Rating 9/10
The more I talk to people about delicatessens the more I’ve realized that everyone has at least one that sticks out in their minds. That they can’t wait to tell me about. And that’s how I’ve discovered many of the ones I’ve tested and reviewed. There is a special fondness that people have for these simple, yet endlessly diverse little eateries. For most, it’s the quality of the food at that particular joint. For some, it’s also the vibe of the place. And for those with a special traditional delicatessen in their lives, like the Italian or Jewish deli, they might enjoy the opportunity to come in and drink from the culture as well.
I recently joined a relatively new online platform called Lunchclub. They pair you up with a complete stranger who has similar interests and you chat for 45 minutes over Zoom. Recently, I met a musician in Los Angeles named Ben with whom I had 5 interests in common. Delicatessens weren’t one of them, but we got to talking about them and he implored me to get the fried chicken sandwich at Bakesale Betty’s in Oakland. So I grabbed Nick and Luka that Saturday and made the 45-minute trek over to Telegraph and 51st - near the border with Berkeley.
There was… a line. Looooong line. Bakesale Betty is certainly no secret and one of the things it’s famous for is that line. I should also admit here that it’s not a delicatessen. As the name suggests, it’s primarily a bakery. A tiny little, take-out-only, hole-in-the-wall, corner bakery. But they do make this fried chicken sandwich thing that Ben and his wife thought was worth it.
Betty, whose name is really Alison Barakat, is an Aussie who previously worked as a line cook at Chez Panisse with my sister Megan. She started Bakesale Betty at a farmer’s market back in 2002 and kept the farmer’s market vibe going with colorful hand-scrawled signs posted halfway down the block. She also wears a blue wig as a way to help her get into character as Betty. I like her.
The signs are designed to tempt you with amazing-sounding desserts like strawberry shortcake (which they are also famous for), strawberry rhubarb pie, pecan shortbread, and buttermilk pie – all baked to-day.
The line moves refreshingly fast. We scoot forward at a decent clip for a line that long.
The Chicken Sandwich
We finally get to the front of the line, order our sandwiches ($10.50 per), along with a (surprisingly heavy) buttermilk pie ($30). Not that we’d order any other sandwich from there because it’s the only true lunch item on the menu (I don’t count the tofu version). They sell up to 1000 of these suckers in a 3-hour window (sometimes less) between 11a and 2p, Friday through Sunday. You read right: they’re only open 9 hours a week.
The chicken is a buttermilk-fried split breast served on a barely toasted bun and topped with a heaping helping of slaw - a delightful mix of chilled, seeded jalapeno slices, red onions, olive oil, red wine vinegar, mustard, and of course, cabbage. We added a packet of Frank's Red Hot to give it extra pop (I’m also a hot sauce fanatic).
Have you ever taken the first bite of a food item and decided, right in that first few seconds of chewing, that you’re going to have to slow it down. Savor it. Make it last AS LONG AS POSSIBLE. That’s how I felt about this fried chicken sandwich. I’ve had Popeye’s. I’ve had Chik-Fil-A. I’ve had friend chicken sandwiches from some of the best eateries in the Bay Area and Napa. Nothing compares. Nothing. The chicken is succulent. The slaw is devine. The bun is toasted just enough. The flavors are perfectly balanced. It’s fucking fantastic.
And, of course, the chicken is free-range and everything is from nearby farms. It’s a neighborhood institution, a shrine to fried chicken, and perhaps even a national treasure. I wholeheartedly recommend Bakesale Betty.