The Glory Days Of Howlin' Rays
Yes that rhymed on purpose, and yes it was worth waiting three hours for that chicken
I’m glad Howlin’ has their Pasadena spot now. With beer and wine. With real seating. But the days of old were a special time.
Read on and find out why it’s the best chicken sandwich in the entire world.
RING RING! It's a Sunday morning in 2018, and my alarm is blaring at 6:30AM. I want nothing more than to throw my phone against the wall, but (not only would my Otterbox case prevent any damage whatsoever) I know I have to get up.
Why? Cause we're tailgating today.
No, not for football. '
For chicken.
Specifically, Howlin' Rays Nashville Hot Chicken in Los Angeles.
I connect with my friends, get ready, and head to Chinatown to begin our pre-chicken celebration. We arrive at 8AM. The restaurant doesn't open until 11AM, but the energy is already lively.
Outside there is a group of guys ahead of us, the same guys we've seen weekends past, coolers filled with beer, chugging away. There are probably about 15 people waiting in total. By the time the restaurant opens, it will be hundreds.
Inside the restaurant (which the most "hole-in-the-wall" spot that could ever exist set across from an ice cream shop within a two-story plaza in Chinatown) we hear hip-hop bumping, and the only thing heard between the music is the unison chant of "Yes chef!" as the workers waste not even a second to prepare for the inundation of happy, hungry, and in some cases, drunk, customers about to make their claim for the best chicken in LA.
The chef in question is Johnny Ray Zone, the co-owner of Howlin' Rays with his wife, Amanda Jo Zone.
Despite having the capital to hire a full staff at the restaurant, Johnny is still on the line every day. Cooking the chicken, greeting customers, creating the Southern hospitality experience he fell in love with while visiting Nashville—an experience that made him want to bring Nashville hot chicken to his hometown of Los Angeles.
Johnny and Amanda started Howlin' Rays as a food truck in 2015, borrowing $80,000 on credit cards, serving roughly 15 people per day. In 2018 they were serving over 800 people per day, and those people waited in line for as long as four hours to get their hands on some Howlin'.
Since Howlin' opened, the Nashville hot chicken trend has enveloped Los Angeles as well. On Yelp there are now well over 20 different hot chicken restaurants around LA (that's individual brands not counting all the different franchises of each), but people are still willing to wait hours for Howlin'.
Why?
The taste of the food is surely a huge part of it, but simply put, everyone involved in Howlin' Rays, from the staff to the customers, is a part of the Zone family. Johnny and Amanda Jo know people spend hours waiting, and they want to make sure it's worth it.
After three hours of chilling, drinking, and trading shifts of going to our cars to smoke weed, the doors open and the line begins moving. One by one, orders are served. Some people take massive Howlin' branded bags to-go (the bags may be filled with as many as 50 chicken sandwiches), but most stick around, eating inside or on the tables outside relishing in the experience that feels like a massive family dinner.
Finally, it's my turn, and the first face I see is Mario Aguilar, assistant manager of Howlin' Rays, who greets me by name with a smile and a high five. Mario has his own version of fries at Howlin' aptly named Mario fries. I didn't order any this time, but two of my friends did.
After I'm done ordering enough chicken to last me for two days (my friends and I regularly spend $60-80 per trip), I turn to my left and see the now Director of Operations at Howlin' Rays, Julian Sanchez, who greets me, once again, by name, but with a fist bump because he's wearing gloves that are peppered with the most exquisite seasoning that rubs every piece of chicken.
But here's a problem. When the process of waiting for the chicken begins, I see there are people sitting at the counter inside.
Howlin' Rays’ Chinatown location has 11 seats total. Three tables for two, and a counter for five. Some people might be OK with sitting at the tables or on the benches outside.
We're not.
We wait.
We watch everyone eating their food, teased by the glory that is filling our senses.
We wait some more.
And in about ten minutes (which almost feels like another hour) the counter opens.
We get our asses on those stools as fast as possible, and immediately free food starts coming our way. A high school friend of mine named Luis Silva (who now owns his own hot chicken restaurant, Humble Bird) first delivers free fries, then free waffles, and then starts experimenting with different concoctions and combinations for us to try. Covering a single chicken tender with cheese and coleslaw. Putting another tender on some bread with collard greens and comeback sauce.
Then in comes the man.
"Here's Johnny!"
(No one actually says that, but Johnny's entrance is almost the precise inverse of Jack Nicholson breaking through the door in The Shining where fear is replaced with elation).
Johnny, like Julian and Mario, addresses me by name and remembers my personal greeting, a peace sign but turned around.
In his hands is my sando. Mild spice. No coleslaw.
And, like always, Johnny looks me in the eye with a big ol' smile and hands me my chicken sandwich personally. As if to say, you are a part of the Howlin' family, and I hope you enjoy family dinner here in my restaurant.
Oh, and believe me, we did enjoy it.
That's how I've felt whenever I've come to Howlin' Rays. I’ve had so many friends question why I would dare wait so long for food. When this happens, I’m more than happy to wait out the line myself, playing Skyrim or Breath of the Wild on my Switch for three hours (something I would do at home anyway) so my skeptic friends can come and join when for the last ten minutes.
Without fail, 100% of the time, the skeptics walk out having seen the light (and eaten the chicken).
Even now that they've expanded to a much larger location in Pasadena, the feeling of family has never changed.
Johnny and Amanda Jo have turned down dozens of franchise offers for ten to twenty different restaurants. They've rejected having Howlin' Rays in Vegas hotels that rake in billions of dollars per year. All so they can maintain that experience. So they can look their customers in the eye, and let them know they are a part of the family.