I once wrote that when I was very young and we didn’t have a lot of money, we could only afford to eat meat once a week, when Mom would make crispy fried chicken for Sunday supper after church.

I actually had to apologize to Dad for that because, technically, yes, sliced bologna is meat. Thanks for pointing that out Dad.

Anyway, Mom got her recipe from Grandma, who probably got it from her mother. My Dad remembers his Ma (his step grandmother) killing a chicken in their backyard for special occasions and frying it up.

“Fried chicken was a big deal,” he says.

Fried chicken was a staple in the South, still is, but as I grew up I got away from eating it. First, because even though when I was a struggling twentysomething and loved me a cheap biscuit and a piece from Popeye’s, I eventually eschewed fast food because of the whole factory farm business and how it grew from the fast food industry to destroy the family farm, create Frankenstein animals that are horribly treated and slaughtered, and pollute our land and water.

Scuse me, I’ll climb down off my soapbox now, but if you want the facts check out Nicolette Hahn Niman’s Righteous Porkchop. Yes, that Niman.

Anyhow, I quit eating fried chicken at fast food joints and didn’t make it myself because I’m not good with the whole hot oil thing. You know, burning yourself and setting off the smoke alarm.

But in light of National Fried Chicken Day on July 6 (what, it’s not on your calendar?) I’ve decided to get back to my roots and luckily Houston has some great places to eat real fried chicken.

First off, there’s the legendary Frenchy’s Chicken, not the franchises mind you, but the original one in the Third Ward. The spicy, Cajun, never greasy chicken here is worth the wait in the long lines. It’s a real Houston institution. I once attended a River Oaks dinner party where the host drove to the Third Ward and brought back a mess of Frenchy’s fried chicken and collard greens and served it on fine china with a chilled Pouilly-Fuissé. Best. Dinner. Party. Ever.

That was a few years ago, but today more and more chef-driven restaurants are doing real Southern fried chicken.

Phil Mitchell of Phil & Derek’s Restaurant and Wine Bar subscribes to the Cajun theory, using regular milk and flour and special Cajun spices to coat his birds, which turn up in Cobb salads and on the Sunday brunch buffet with waffles and syrup.

Of course, if you’re into wings and waffles, The Breakfast Klub is a go-to must. The Klub is the first place I ever tasted wings and waffles and the blending of crispy chicken and sweet Belgian waffles with syrup was eye opening.

Max’s Wine Dive, a forerunner of the gastro explosion on Washington Ave. that opened in 2006, made its reputation with gourmet down home fried chicken. Its house-made jalapeño and buttermilk-marinated chicken, deep-fried slow and low, is a delicious foodie tribute to childhood eats. It’s why they have T-shirts with the slogan “Fried chicken and champagne, why the hell not?” made up.

Seriously, why the hell not indulge in that combo?

Craving a fried chicken fix for lunch? Check out Randy Evans’ Haven on Thursday when the $10 Blue Plate Special offers a sublime old school fried chicken meal. No wings and waffles here, but for a different take on fried do try the amazing dish of fried chicken livers with andouille cream gravy atop buttermilk biscuits.

While this is nothing like anything I ever ate growing up, it is truly a decadent comfort food. Maybe not the most heart and waist friendly dish on the menu but one should try at least once in your life.

Least you think fried chicken is only an American Southern dish, note that fried foods have been prepared in Europe since the Middle Ages. Fried chicken was known as pollo fritto in Italy, as Ga Xao in Vietnam and the Scotts had a tradition of deep frying chicken in lard long before Scottish immigrants brought it to America.

And look no further than Houston’s own Kenny & Ziggy’s Deli for some comfort-fried chicken that is decidedly not Southern. At least not south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

Third-generation deli man Ziggy Gruber makes a special dish called South Bronx Fried Chicken that’s crunchy and juicy. He mixes matzo meal with flour for an extra crunchy crust. It’s a Jewish take on a Southern dish. But if you want to indulge in this tasty treat you need to get on the email list. Gruber only makes it occasionally and you’ll only know about it when he sends out an email blast.

However you make it, the hallmark of good fried chicken is that it’s tasty, crunchy and not dried out on the inside. And not too greasy. If it takes an entire role of paper towels to eat a wing, it’s just not right.

And good fried chicken is heaven on earth when it’s hot right out of the kitchen, but the true test is if it’s still wonderful served cold the next day.

Which kinda makes me wonder why National Fried Chicken Day is July 6 and not July 3, so you can stuff your July Fourth picnic basket with cold fried chicken. And maybe a chilled bottle of Pouilly-Fuissé.