In Defense of the Frozen Chicken Nugget

It’s 6 p.m. after a day of partying at São Paulo bloquinhos: packed, sweaty and incredibly fun block parties that take place during the week of Carnaval in February. These parties often start near 9 a.m., and partiers venture from block to block to experience a range of different music and vibes before invariably succumbing to the blazing heat, inclement weather or excess substance consumption. As a 30-year-old who apparently does not have the stamina of the average Brazilian partier, I was dead tired, covered in a melting layer of sunscreen and desperate for something that would fill the void in my stomach buffered only by Brahma and homemade Xeque Mate.

I love Brazilian food, but in that moment, I was unwilling to set foot in a restaurant, preferring to head back to my accommodations and lay under the fan instead of subjecting myself to the long process of sitting down, ordering and struggling through a meal in my sun-fueled stupor. Instead, I made my way to a grocery store, perusing the aisles for something that would provide me the sustenance I needed without further aggravating my compromised stomach.

Past the fresh fruits with a fragrant ripeness I’ve never encountered in the United States, past the packaged mandioca, thick and heavy in all its glory, I saw a glimmer, a beacon of familiarity, a food so familiar, so basic, so bland, even, that I knew I had found my dinner: a yellow package of frozen chicken nuggets, obviously marketed to children but nonetheless appealing to me in my fragile state.

Chicken nuggets are understandably maligned; they don’t taste like much of anything, and they’re usually processed within an inch of edibility, which I usually hate. But for me, there’s something about the texture of chicken nuggets that’s undeniably appealing. They have a soft, almost bouncy texture that’s probably ideal for children’s teeth but that makes for an inoffensive meal when you can’t stomach much else. Depending on the cooking method, the crunch from the layer of breading adds even more textural interest despite the nondescript taste of the meat itself.

Do I think frozen chicken nuggets are a quality food, something you should eat on the regular as part of a balanced diet? Of course not. But when ease and mild enjoyment take precedence (as they sometimes do when we make choices about food), it’s hard to deny the appeal of the frozen chicken nugget. There’s a reason I can get a nearly identical product at home in Boston and nearly 5,000 miles away in São Paulo.

There’s a time for chicken tenders, of course, filled with real meat that hasn’t been grinded into oblivion. And when I’m home and focusing on eating well, I’m much more likely to opt for a well-cooked chicken thigh over the processed tenders that line the frozen food aisle. But frozen chicken nuggets also deserve their moment in the limelight, a chance to shine amongst their less-adulterated cousins.

Post-Carnaval, I microwaved the nuggets, yielding a soggy, soft exterior, but no matter. After dotting them with some particularly spicy hot sauce and pairing them with a fresh, green salad, they made the perfect meal after a long, hot day in the sun.

Samantha Maxwell is a food writer and editor based in Boston. Follow her on Twitter at @samseating.