Always juicy, sometimes humongous: Does this chicken ‘sandwich’ live up to the hype?

Adriel Reddy is a man obsessed. His mobile phone’s lock screen is a photo of a fried chicken drumstick. He wears a baseball cap that proclaims “Double Dredged” to the world. Last year, while fixating on his next ChickyBoi pop-up, he lost an engineering contract because he appeared “distracted” during his day job. Now, six months on, ChickyBoi is the day job, with a permanent home in Fitzroy.

When the ChickyBoi “OG” fried chicken sandwich hits the table, it peeks out from branded liner paper, cradled in a red plastic basket that’s visual shorthand for its American fast-food origins. The deep-fried, sizeable (sometimes humongous) chicken breast (always breast) looks like a crag of glowing meteorite. The meat sits atop a bed of mandolin-shredded lettuce and dill pickle slices in a toasted potato bun, and is generously covered in a thick dill-flecked ranch sauce.

I never thought a chicken sandwich could possess gravitas, but here we are. Reddy takes the etymological high ground, by the way, and refuses to use the word “burger”, which food purists insist should only apply to a minced patty between bread.

Hefting this upwards for your first bite, you crunch through thick, secret-spice-dusted batter. The meat is thick, exceptionally juicy, and carries the flavour of buttermilk in which it has been brined for two days.

The pickles are slightly sweet, the sauce tangy without tasting too much like mayonnaise. The fresh lettuce and soft bun offer textural counterpoints. A few bites in, ranch sauce runs down your chin and drips into your palm.

If you’re a slow eater, you may notice pieces of coating starting to drop off the meat. Rescue them, for they remain too crunchy and flavourful to waste. Takeaway is possible, but Reddy implores people to eat within 20 minutes to avoid compromising their experience.

Check the social media page to see how quickly sandwiches might sell out on the day because the hype shows no sign of abating.

ChickyBoi’s laconic menu has settled on four core sandwiches and, often, a rotating special. The OG transforms into the HoneyBoi with a hot honey glaze and purpose-made jalapeno pickles subbed in for the dill variety. The BasicBoi is a simpler offering with mayonnaise instead of ranch and chicken salt instead of the more complex spice mix (although traces of chilli heat may carry through from cayenne in the base coating).

The SpicyBoi, on the other side of the flavour continuum, offsets “Nashville-dipped” chilli oil ferocity with the cooling ranch sauce.

Sides include either chicken strips with one of nine dipping sauces (I can recommend the rich and complex house-made barbecue option), or chips – albeit not the hot kind.

Reddy tasted 15 brands of chips to find the right balance of crunch and seasoning to carry his ranch dressing and complement the sandwiches, landing on Smith’s Salt & Vinegar. He doesn’t fry hot chips as he believes they would detract from the experience.

The open kitchen is best observed while perched at one of the bar stools. Chicken breasts are dredged in seasoned flour, dipped in buttermilk, and dredged again to create a thick, moisture-preserving coating. After timed batch-frying, the meat is rested and seasoned depending on your order, then sent down the production line for assembly. The intensity of this process evokes scenes from the war movie Das Boot: orders are yelled with greater kindness but no less urgency than a 1940s German submarine team scrambling to load torpedo tube after tube, confined by metal and heat.

Is ChickyBoi a good place for a first date? It depends on expectations. You will need to check its social media page to see how quickly sandwiches might sell out on the day because the hype shows no sign of abating. You’ll likely get conversation time while queuing, and then again while waiting, possibly for more than half an hour, for your order.

Sitting in the main restaurant will have your clothes absorb cooking aromas, so if the outdoor tables are occupied, head to neighbouring bar Near and Far and the team will bring your order over. ChickyBoi serves drinks too, though, and you might sip on a ferment-focused mocktail, beer, wine, or a delightfully maximalist “lagerita” while you wait.

When the food does arrive, pause to realise you’ve shared a focal phenomenon of Brunswick Street’s revival, serving up what some people online are calling the best chicken burger of their life. Sorry – sandwich.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.