I finally had a chance to try the much-talked-about buttermilk fried chicken at Hawks last night. The poultry plays a starring role in the Granite Bay restaurant’s weekly prix fixe Sunday Supper, and it was fabulous. The crust was thick, ridiculously crispy, and so flavorful I could’ve happily made a meal out of it, sans chicken. It was served with a bold honey mustard sauce, a comforting square of cornbread and onion-flecked, better-than-mom’s green beans. But I was even more impressed with what preceded – and followed – the toothsome chicken pieces. The meal started with a grilled Monterey Bay calamari salad, tossed with feisty leaves of arugula and fat Italian butter beans; and was followed by a knockout broccoli and aged cheddar soup, sprinkled with applewood smoked bacon bits. The dessert was the pièce de résistance: a delicate black pepper panna cotta, scattered with sautéed Bing cherries and drizzled with an intense, sweet Port reduction.
