Bobwhite Lunch and Supper Counter in Alphabet City Bobwhite Lunch & Supper Counter, a small, no-fuss storefront that opened in Alphabet City in January. FIRST the chicken is baptized in sweet tea, a Southern elixir giddy with sugar, in which tea is an afterthought. It is left to brine overnight, then dredged in milk, flour, salt, pepper and mystery spices that the chef refuses to divulge. Into the pressure fryer it goes, then onto your plate. Dismemberment is swift. The skin is dark bronze and nubbly, studded with tiny crispy kernels and whorls, and already you are breaking off pieces and crumbling them in your mouth. Slow down. Consider, too, the pleasures of the flesh, tender and salty sweet, a marriage of brash and beatific. On hand are Texas Pete's original hot sauce, flaring with cayenne, and squeeze bottles of honey, but the chicken is just fine without either. Southern fried chicken is the mission at Bobwhite Lunch & Supper Counter, a small no-fuss storefront that opened in Alphabet City in January. The owner, Keedick Coulter, hails from Roanoke, Va. He doubles as chef - "de facto chef," as he puts it, acknowledging his lack of classical culinary training. No need for the self-deprecation. Mr. Coulter's fried chicken is the kind you dream about when trapped at other, more buttoned-up restaurants. It comes as a complete supper (available all day), with an overgrown buttermilk biscuit, mottled gold on top and devastatingly moist inside, and a dutiful salad ($11.50). Less successful is fried catfish, which tends to the limp, whether in a supper ($12) or a sandwich ($9). And a number of the side dishes could benefit from more attention, and salt: undersimmered collard greens ($4) that taste not at all of the ham hock and pork jowl they were cooked with; voluptuous but vapid grits ($3.50); oddly dry macaroni and cheese ($4.50); and texturally perfect and perfectly bland black-eyed peas ($3.50). Mr. Coulter makes up for it with a sturdy, not-too-sweet potato salad ($3.50). Better still is the Brunswick stew ($4.50), a loose mélange of tomatoes, corn, potatoes and rich nuggets of pork, dashed with Worcestershire sauce and lemon. It has a whiff of the campfire to it, and could pass for an entree. On the menu, Mr. Coulter notes that all the condiments are made from recipes handed down by family and friends. These include his grandmother's apple chutney, bright with ginger, which lends brio to a chicken-salad sandwich ($7), and chow chow, a pickled relish heavy on mustard and turmeric, a sloppy halo for a butterflied pork chop on a squishy bun ($9.50). Prices are gratifyingly low, given Mr. Coulter's commitment to using only free-range birds and grass-fed heritage pork. The latter comes from the Virginia hog farmer Bev Eggleston, who also supplies the Momofuku restaurants (and is a cousin of Mr. Coulter's, as it turns out). For dessert, skip the banana pudding ($4), whose texture evokes vichyssoise. A mash-up of pecan pie and bread pudding ($4) arrives as hunks in a bowl, oozing caramel under an eddy of whipped cream. Its appeal is obvious, but what's wrong with that? Bobwhite's space is not particularly cozy, yet people linger. Stools are set along a counter and at a few high wooden two-tops. You place your order at the cash register, then sit back. The staff, mostly tattooed and wearing backward baseball caps, delivers dishes as they materialize. Sometimes the biscuits are still so hot they singe your fingertips. At night, when the place fills up in one breathless surge, diners graciously drag aside entire tables, unasked, to make room for new neighbors. Jimmy Cliff grooves in the background. More chicken and more biscuits are called for. There is house wine, and if it runs out, someone will direct you to the wine store a few doors down. It gets loud, and happy, and for one crazy moment it feels as if we can all get along. 94 Avenue C (East Sixth Street), (212) 228-2972, bobwhitecounter.com. RECOMMENDED Fried chicken supper; chicken salad sandwich; Brunswick stew; potato salad; pecan pie bread pudding. HOURS Daily, noon to 10 p.m. WHEELCHAIR ACCESS Dining room is one step up from the sidewalk. Restroom has a handrail.