Do me wrong, she warns, and you might as well not anything at all. Do me right, says fried chicken, and you’ll never need to do anything else. Catch the fried chicken from Steven Starr’s Jones on a good day, for instance, and you’ll be pleasantly surprised but even Starr knows better than to hang his hat on the dish, for fried chicken is a mistress that requires singlemindedness. Beyond that, there’s the odd restaurant that has their hand in the game, with varying results. On the other side, there are numerous Crown Fried Chicken franchises dotted around the city, some of which are regarded better than others. That’s not a slight so much as a differentiation point in marketing strategy - like all fried chicken, it’s pretty fucking good fried chicken. On the “high” side, there’s the ever-expanding Federal Donuts franchise, of course, which has played to a more upmarket style of fried chicken - let’s call it the cronutization of fried chicken, where there are different flavors on offer, where you’re almost expected to Instagram your order, where the donuts have their own press releases. And even when it does appear, it plays to a kind of high and low that mirrors the growing economic divide between the city’s inhabitants themselves. For a city that’s closer to the Mason-Dixon line than we ever seem to acknowledge, Philadelphia’s fried chicken availability is somehow not what it should be. To be fair, there isn’t a lot of competition. Because to your left, a large amount of Club Lukoil’s retail square footage - and a good amount of attention on behalf of locals - has been dedicated to a tiny Krispy Krunchy Chicken franchise, which has quickly gained a reputation as the very finest “gas station chicken” in the city. At some point, there was a glass case somewhere in there where an array of hookahs, bongs and pipes were on offer, but who knows if it’s still there. Past the security guard, the convenience store portion of Club Lukoil reveals itself as a tightly packed retail space to your right, you’ll see all the sodas, chips and other stuff that is the usual fare.
Some nights, it still does, but nightclubs in general are not what they used to be, and so neither is Club Lukoil.
Ostensibly, he is here for your protection, but really, his presence is a remnant of the days when this gas station was dubbed “Club Lukoil” due to its proximity to many neighboring nightclubs often, this very same gas station would serve as an unwilling afterparty locale. Upon crossing the threshold of the Lukoil located at Delaware and Spring Garden, you will notice, to your right, a security guard in the most up-to-date Kevlar finery.
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