To successfully bite into this Zipper food hall stall’s legendary Portland fried chicken sandwich, you may need to unhinge your jaw: Fried chicken thighs retain serious height on their brioche bun, nestled in a pile of pickles and cabbage slaw that add even more crunch. Basilisk was one of Portland’s earlier adopters of Nashville hot chicken, here drenched in a spicy cayenne sauce and served on a thick slab of Texas toast from the nearby Franz Bakery. You pick your heat preference but be warned: they won’t swap it out if you fly too close to the hot sauce sun. You can also order your fried chicken on a salad, which comes with thick ginger-garlic noodles, a soft-boiled egg, and a side of kimchi.

Big’s is primarily known for its take on Alabama barbecue chicken slathered in a tangy white barbecue sauce, but the fried chicken is no slouch. It’s marinated in a mild Fresno chile pepper sauce and smoked—before it’s soaked in buttermilk and dunked in the fryer. A light batter offers more crackle than crunch and a heavy kick of peppers and onion powders. Pros order it as a meal: a half or whole bird paired with fluffy jojos and classic slaw. Be sure to stock up on the white gold barbecue sauce for liberal dipping. Takeout is popular here, though you can also tuck into tables under the corrugated metal walls and play with the restaurant’s vintage toys.

FOMO owner Sun Kim grew up eating fried chicken in South Korea before immigrating with his family to Atlanta, where he was introduced to the American South’s version of deep-fried poultry. Kim draws from both cuisines at his cart at Pod 28, serving buttermilk-brined boneless chicken bites in a sweet and spicy gochujang sauce, a sticky-sweet soy garlic sauce, or an American-style dry dredge. The two Korean versions are dredged in gluten-free potato flour, fried twice for that customary airy-crispy exterior, then tossed in sauce and served with rice, slaw, and pickled radish. The Southern style is a little nontraditional, perhaps picking up a little hippie flair from the Pacific Northwest: A garbanzo and fava bean flour dredge gives the chicken a gluten-free crust and a nutty flavor, and it’s heaped over mashed potatoes, corn, and coleslaw.

Sunny Hatch’s Frybaby earned a cult following when it opened in 2023 at the Lil’ America pod, one that followed him to his new location on SE Woodstock. Raised in Texas, Hatch combines Korean cooking with Southern influences. Wings, drumsticks, and tenders bathe in batter that balances principles of both fried chicken schools: The combination of rice, potato, and tapioca flours keeps the chicken ultracrisp, with the added bonus of vodka—it evaporates faster than water, leaving the coating airy and light out of the fryer. Meanwhile, a dose of makgeolli, a Korean rice wine, stands in for buttermilk, flavoring and tenderizing the meat. You can get chicken dressed in a salty-sweet soy garlic sauce or spicy gochujang, but we love the snow cheese, a dusting that almost resembles a boxed mac and cheese powder packet—it’s slightly sweet, creamy, and cheesy, and is especially delicious in the cart’s sandwich, served with crisp radish on a buttery bun.

Hat Yai isn’t the only Portland restaurant serving the southern Thai city’s iconic style of fried chicken, but it’s still the pinnacle, always thoroughly seasoned and consistently tender and moist. From Thai restaurateur Akkapong “Earl” Ninsom and industry vet Alan Akwai, Hat Yai coats its chicken in a light rice and tapioca flour breading. The flavor is what’s heavy: white pepper, cumin, coriander, and garlic make up the marinade, and a dusting of ultra-savory fried shallots add another layer of crunch. The chicken is delicious on its own, but you’re supposed to eat it with the rich Malayu-style curry and buttery roti. You can find it at the always-hopping counter-service restaurants on NE Killingsworth and SE Belmont.

Running Portland’s most buck-wild Instagram account is only half of what makes Jojo so recognized, even beyond city limits—The Food Lab scientist himself, J. Kenji López-Alt, has sung the praises of owner Justin Hintze’s fried chicken sandwiches. At a Powell food cart and an airy, plant-filled spot in the Pearl, Jojo churns out its namesake fried potato wedges (gluten-free, double-fried, and spice-coated), chicken tenders, and popcorn chicken. But fried chicken sandwiches are the headliners—colossal, boneless thighs coated on pillowy rolls. Start with the classic, simply adorned with Duke’s mayo and pickles. But second visits and beyond call for branching out—take, for example, the fried chicken melt, which sees Jojo’s fried thighs, American and cheddar cheeses, and coleslaw pressed between butter-grilled Japanese milk bread.

While the majority of dishes at Rangoon Bistro are influenced by the cuisine of Myanmar, its fried chicken pulls from Malaysia. Whole birds sectioned into pieces marinate with curry leaf, turmeric, onion, and garlic then get a craggy crust red with pepper. Still, the flavor leans mild, setting up some of the best coconut rice in the city and a crimson, house-made hot sauce: a balance of all things hot, sweet, and tangy. Order a bright thoke, or Burmese salad, to go with, like the fermenty tea leaf and cabbage salad.

The fried chicken at this tiny watering hole on SE Division is so good, it nearly disqualified Reel M Inn from our dive bar list. It also reportedly inspired fried chicken maven Sean Brock when he opened his famous Southern restaurant group, Husk. It’s debated what exactly makes it so good—Brock claimed he saw the chicken chilling in the dredge before it was fried, but the bar has said it’s dredged to order. However it’s made, it comes out looking like it was painted by Norman Rockwell: bubbly, rippled waves of tawny batter that cling to the bird through each deafening bite. It’s nothing fancy, nothing fussy, and usually takes upward of an hour to get to the table. But that just means plenty of time for stiff drinks and a few games of pool in the cramped bar lined with fishing equipment.

Screen Door might bear the most responsibility for the unending debates around brunch lines in Portland. And while many a Portlander will rush to decry it as “overrated,” that certainly doesn’t stop all the other locals who line up on weekends for the famous chicken and waffles: buttermilk-battered boneless breasts stacked tall on a sweet potato waffle. Not into chicken and waffles? Screen Door also serves its fried chicken as a savory dinner entrée with mashed potatoes and tasso gravy, or as a sandwich with pickles and coleslaw on the brunch menu. You can find the fried chicken at both the cheery yellow East Burnside location and the swanky Pearl outpost.

Chef Feny Lim brought the style of ayam goreng, Indonesian fried chicken, she ate growing up in Jakarta to the menu at Wajan when she opened in 2013. It’s marinated in spiced coconut milk, which flavors and tenderizes the meat before it goes directly into the fryer without a dredge, its skin and fat frying to a deep umber. Each piece gets bits of spiced crispy tapioca called kremes, doubling the crunch. You can get the chicken as a main with coconut rice and cabbage for wrapping, or as an add-on to the nasi campur and nasi uduk, rice plates with tempeh, veggies, chile eggs, and tapioca crackers. Either way, don’t skip the sambals.