When I was asked to say a few words on the 2022 Arkansas’s Food of the Year, keeping things to a “few words” was a bit of a challenge.

Where does one begin when talking about chicken? Perhaps at the beginning, with the critter’s obscure origins in southern Asia as many as seven millennia ago. The chicken’s wild ancestor, modern genetic research tells us, is the red junglefowl, Gallus gallus, found from India to the Philippines. Crossbred with some of its cousins, it would become the bird familiar to us today.

From South and East Asia they spread; overland, into the steppes of central Asia and on trading ships plying the old Indian Ocean and Arabian Sea routes.

Carried west over the centuries by Harappan merchants, Persian caravans and Roman armies, the chicken finally arrived in the New World in 1493 as a passenger on Christopher Columbus’s second voyage to the Americas. Or, some astute scholars suggest, they were already here. Some archaeologists believe that chickens were first introduced to the New World by Polynesians who reached the Pacific coast of South America a century or so before the voyages of Columbus. Nice to think of chickens advancing from the coasts, only to meet up somewhere in the middle.

So, our Food of the Year is one with a history, but what makes it great?

The chicken has inspired contributions to culture, art, cuisine, science and religion over the millennia. Chickens were, and still are, a sacred animal: the hen is a worldwide symbol of nurturing and fertility. To the Zoroastrians of ancient Persia, the rooster was a benign spirit that crowed at dawn to tell out the turn of the struggle between darkness and light.

For the Romans, the chicken was not only something to eat or to watch fight, but a fortune teller, especially during wartime. Chickens accompanied Roman armies, and their behavior was carefully observed before battle. A good appetite meant victory was likely, and the Romans took this seriously. In 249 BCE, when one contingent of birds refused to eat before a sea battle, an angry consul threw them overboard! And that’s when things went …wrong.

The historian Polybius tells us that during the First Punic War, the Consul Publius Claudius Pulcher turned to the sacred chickens for approval of his plan to launch a surprise attack on the Carthaginian fleet at the harbor of Drepana. When the chicken watcher notified Pulcher that they were not eating, which constituted a bad omen, he replied, “Since they do not want to eat, let them drink!” and had them hurled into the sea. The naval battle which followed was a right mess: most of the Roman fleet was sunk. Pulcher, humiliated, returned to Rome in disgrace and stood trial on the charge of impiety.

What happened next is unclear, but it seems that he was either convicted and sentenced to exile or acquitted when the proceedings were adjourned due to a rainstorm; a sign that the gods had had enough of this feckless fellow. In any event, Pulcher died soon after, an even clearer sign that the gods were done with him.

Moral of the story? Don’t underestimate the power of the far-from-paltry poultry. Respect the bird. Don’t mess with the chicken!

There’s more ancient history, but that can wait for another time. Let’s get back to the subject at hand. What is the chicken to us, to Arkansas, that makes it the Food of the Year?

Maybe, its sheer extent: Last year, the Arkansas Poultry Federation says our state raised about a billion broiler chickens last year, an average 7 1/3 pounds per chicken. About 6,500 Arkansas farms produce poultry of some kind. Of those, 2,500 or so are broiler battery farms. Raising these chickens supports well over 150,000 jobs. Those jobs produced broilers worth at sale $2.68 billion, but there’s some sort of magic multiplier at work in the equation: the industry is at the bottom of over $35 billion in economic activity. And we haven’t even scratched the surface on the value of the egg.

Or, maybe its universality is the key. Chicken was once the rare bird, the pricey bird, the Sunday bird. A century and some ago, people made imitation chicken breasts, “veal birds,” as a low-priced alternative to the real thing. Today, just about any pot can find a chicken. And, oh, what those pots produce: chicken pulled, jerked, braised, roasted, fricasseed, grilled, boiled, smoked; chicken divan, chicken Marengo, chicken chasseur, chicken cordon bleu, chicken Maryland, chicken Kiev, General Tso’s chicken, chicken spaghetti, popcorn chicken, or popcorn chicken salad (don’t knock it until you try it), to name a few.

Or, maybe, just enjoy the simplest and most sublime kind: chicken, fried, preferably in a well-seasoned cast iron skillet (but “deep-fried” is good, too, if the oil’s just right). Dipped in buttermilk, dredged in flour or cornmeal, a little salt and pepper, fried hot and clean, best eaten fresh and hot with coleslaw and biscuits or johnnycake, or cold out of a picnic hamper, with pickles, coleslaw (again) and plenty of napkins.

This may be my favorite, my prejudice, and I’m sticking to it, but it’s one out of many, just one preference out of millions; a food of the year should be a food for all seasons and for as many occasions as there are reasons to have them. And gallus gallus domesticus fits this description. Its commonality should breed respect, and with that respect affection, and after affection—well, time to eat! And if we lose sight of this, just remember poor former Consul Pulpher—and respect the bird.

Dr. David Ware is the State Historian and Director of the Arkansas State Archive as well as a member of the Food Hall of Fame Committee.