Throwdown with Bobby Flay exemplifies the arrogance of its Food Network chef host. In every episode, Bobby challenges another chef or restaurant owner to a public “throwdown” in which the two compete to discover who actually cooks up a tastier version of the local chef’s signature dish. Bobby travels to American towns like Buffalo, New York, where citizens’ identities are comprised almost entirely of intense local pride, and attempts to strip them of their hopes and joys by cooking their own dish better. Luckily, he rarely wins, as I discovered one uneventful Saturday night of watching four glorious hours of Food Network television shows.

I had the privilege of attending a throwdown last Tuesday in Union Square, in which Bobby competed against the Dessert Truck for the title of chocolate bread pudding king of the universe. I’ve sampled the Dessert Truck’s best-selling bread pudding many a time on late night walks home through Astor Place and can attest to its creamy decadence. The warmth and sweetness of this dessert and my disdain for Bobby Flay left me quite biased as to who I would designate the winner pre-tasting.

The Dessert Truck and an unidentified white truck were parked behind two red cloth-covered tables on the west side of the park. Jerome Chang and Chris Chen, the Dessert Truck founders, pretended to be hosting an episode featuring mobile food vendors. Finally, Bobb-O and his lady groupies, Stephanie and Miriam, arrived on the set via truck (how ironic) and alerted the audience of the show’s actual intent. The two began whipping up their bread pudding – Bobby’s was a chocolate-coconut bread pudding with passion fruit syrup, and the Dessert Truck guys served their famous chocolate bread pudding topped with a bacon anglaise.

I had to throw some serious ‘bows into the guts of freeloaders who had crawled onto the set mid-show in order to get a taste of both recipe renditions. Bobby’s bread pudding almost made up for the smug smile perpetually plastered to his face (emphasis on the almost). Its texture was more complex than the Dessert Truck’s – he layered chocolate ganache, coconut flakes, and airy bread layers to create a light and subtly sweet bread pudding. My favorite aspect was the drizzled passion fruit flavoring, whose concentrated sourness added depth to the pudding.

The Dessert Truck’s pudding was sweeter and a bit heavier; its simplicity a winning attribute. The bread, which the Dessert Truck boys buy from Sullivan St. Bakery, sits atop a thick layer of smooth pudding. The bacon-infused anglaise was understated; its nearly-hidden saltiness enhanced the pudding’s sweetness.

Three hours of standing in the sun left me irritable and slightly arthritic, so I left before the judging. Even if I had stayed, I wouldn’t be able to reveal the winner or the Food Network overlords might slay me with their sharp Santoku knives and Cuisinart blades. I’m still quite torn over who I’d choose as my bread pudding hero. I think I’d have to go with Bobby Flay, though I’m extremely reluctant to admit this tragic resolution.

When I bite into a piece of fried chicken, I expect a specific sequence of sensory details to follow. There should first be an audible crunch, then a thick layer of meat softened by its own juices, and finally a greasy residue to stain my lips and require a hefty stack of napkins at the ready. With this idealistic image in my mind, I ventured to two of the city’s fried chicken outposts — Dirty Bird To-Go in Chelsea and Piece of Chicken in Hell’s Kitchen — in search of the bird that could most closely match this description.

Dirty Bird To-Go’s small, white brick interior is accented by bright orange barstools. Its menu touts Southern comfort food, such as buttermilk fried chicken, smashed potatoes, kale, and macaroni and cheese. Lighter options, like rotisserie chicken, salads, and wraps, are also available for those who choose to leave without the feeling of grease seeping through their pores. I ordered the 2-piece buttermilk fried chicken plus 1 side option ($8.10) with smashed potatoes. The sassy Latino cashier, whose hips were swinging rhythmically to Spice Girls’ “Stop”, barked “no!” when I requested my gravy on the side. Apparently, it’s all or nothing at Dirty Bird.

Two fairly generous pieces of chicken were quickly brought to the table, accompanied by a pile of gravy-topped mashed potatoes and a wedge of cornbread. I vowed to pace myself with the meal, keeping in mind my subsequent trip to Piece of Chicken and the taunting waft of meaty steam rising from the chicken before me. A rich mahogany hue, the thick, crispy layer of skin encased its meaty interior. Audible crunch? A definite check. The chicken itself was moist enough to be pried off the bone with my fingers. The potatoes were buttery and creamy, though their pudding-like consistency was a bit too dense for me. I should have opted out of the gravy; its pure smoke flavor brought me straight back to memories of fried-chicken-Fridays at my childhood day camp. After taking a sample of cornbread, I decided to skip it altogether. It was cement-solid and bland.

I guess the feisty cashier didn’t quite get his fill pre-meal. As I walked out, he sarcastically hollered “you’re welcome” in a tone that seemed surprisingly masculine in comparison to the soft, effeminate one that had so accurately mimicked the Spice Girls lyrics.

I could feel the mashed potatoes and fried chicken thrusting their burly fists into the walls of my stomach as I made my way uptown to Piece of Chicken. This place is known for its $1 fried chicken and consequently frightening weekday lunch lines. Unlike Dirty Bird, it’s a large take-out window which offers no seating. I ordered a piece of chicken ($1) and a side of mashed potatoes and gravy ($2.75). Unfortunately, my chicken was tainted by condensation as it endured a 45-minute subway ride in a Styrofoam box. On the plus side, I experience no heckling by puny staff members as I enjoyed this meal in my comfortable room. The battered skin was wispier than Dirty Bird’s and fried to a perfect, caramel hue. Though it had gotten soggy since it couldn’t be eaten on the premises, its flavor possessed tanginess from the buttermilk and required no salt. The potatoes were lighter and fluffier in texture and tasted natural rather than overpowered by cream and butter. This gravy was ruddy in color and had a modest kick to it, though it didn’t add much flavor on the whole.

Though both eateries boasted some pretty mean fried chicken, I’d have to say Piece of Chicken is my preferred poultry restaurant. The sides were more satisfying than Dirty Bird’s, and the whole package cost half the price! A mere $4.75 gets you two tasty pieces of chicken and a heaping portion of potatoes — just make sure to find a comfy bench to eat your chicken right away so it doesn’t get water-logged.

Dirty Bird To-Go
204 W. 14th St. (b/w 7th & 8th Aves.)
212.620.4836
Price rating: $-$$

Piece of Chicken
362 W. 45th St. (b/w 8th & 9th Aves.)
212.582.5973
Price rating: $