Johnson and Palandech are fully aware of the nugget’s less-than-savory reputation, which is a large part of the reason they got into the business. The couple’s Hip Chick Farms is “taking something that’s not considered healthy and making it beautiful,” Palandech said during a phone interview.
Their nugget mission actually began more than four years ago when the couple entered the frozen-food market with a line of chicken fingers, meatballs and other products. Hip Chick’s “farm to freezer” products are now available in more than 5,000 stores coast to coast, including Mom’s Organic Market in the D.C. area. (An eight-ounce box of the nuggets/fingers costs about $8 at Mom’s.)
Hip Chick Farms wants to be fully transparent with the ingredients of its nuggets and fingers. According to the company’s website, the “chicken and turkey in all of our products is humanely certified, free range, natural and organic poultry that are raised without antibiotics or added hormones. The organic product is non-GMO. All of the chickens and turkey are fed a high quality, vegetable diet and grow naturally with plenty of room.”
This is “organic for the 99 percent,” said Palandech, an event planner and fundraiser before co-founding Hip Chick Farms. “Chicken sandwiches for the 99 percent.”
The inspiration for Hip Chick’s nugget-based business grew from Johnson’s 16-year stint as a personal chef for Ann and Gordon Getty, the billionaire couple and philanthropists who established a Montessori school in their home for a grandchild. Johnson made her own chicken nuggets for the kids attending the school, applying the locavore and organic lessons that she learned while working under Alice Waters at Chez Panisse. The nuggets were a hit.
One of the keys to Hip Chick’s success in the frozen-food market is that Johnson has created nuggets/fingers that don’t require dipping sauces. Instead, Johnson mixes dry ingredients right into the breading, Palandech said, injecting her snacks with the flavors of ketchup or maple syrup. There’s no need to reach for a jar of barbecue sauce to enjoy these nuggets.
At the couple’s modest 50-seat restaurant in Sebastopol, the bites are offered with house-made sauces, just in case you suffer from that rare form of Alien Hand Syndrome, in which your arm unconsciously searches for some place, any place, to dunk a chicken nugget. At the Kitchen, you can order nuggets in three flavors: maple, ketchup and original (seasoned with salt, pepper and paprika, among other ingredients).
But the Kitchen also serves — you knew this was coming, right? — a flight of all three chicken nuggets. “Of course we do,” Palandech said, laughing.
If this sounds like Johnson and Palandech have a sense of humor about their nuggets, they do. Yes, they’re dead serious about producing high-quality chicken nuggets that don’t require a forensic scientist to reveal the ingredient list.
“But simultaneously, it’s a chicken nugget,” Palandech said. “How serious can you be?”