Supermarket food hall is home to some of Houston’s hottest Korean fried chicken.

1302 Blalock Rd., Houston, TX 77055
(832) 808-9888
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10:00AM–8:45PM, Monday–Sunday

The ToreOre offers a twist on that old proverb: good things come in small packages. Located in an Asian supermarket in the Spring Branch neighborhood of Houston, this chicken counter proves that delicious things come in pizza boxes—even when they contain something besides pizza.

On a recent trip to Super H Mart for a sack of rice and other staples, we happened by the food court just as a diner was opening a container from one of the eateries opposite the produce section. Illustrated with caricatures of mustachioed chefs rolling dough and paddling pies into a brick oven, the flat cardboard box jarred with the store’s Korean theme while inspiring happy associations with America’s most popular food. Inside the taped-up pizza box was a pile of fresh-fried chicken coated in glistening, fire-engine-red sauce. Grocery list, be damned, as well as the fact that we had just come from a taquería. We had to have our own pizza box full of KFC now.

Hot & Spicy – All parts mixed (7 pieces, $9.99): The ToreOre offers several variations of fried chicken from original to balsamic scallion and more novel flavors in between. Given the choice of all parts mixed (bone-in), wings, or boneless thighs, we went with the first because bone brings vital flavor. Since we had downed 3 tacos each only 10 minutes beforehand, we decided on a 7-piece order. But it turned out to be a second lunch; it wasn’t until later we noticed the menu’s distinction between a 7-piece and a 14-piece: “Half chicken or whole chicken?” Hell bound, we chose the flavoring whose radioactive glow had caught our eye: Hot & Spicy. As with all orders, it includes a container of Asian radish in pickling liquid, but also comes with an additional item: plastic gloves. This safety measure plus the cooling pickles should have warned us of the saucy rage to come.

At The ToreOre, all chicken is fried to order, not once but twice, a technique that ensures the crispy crust for which KFC is beloved. Combined with the temperature heat of chicken fresh out of the fryer, the chili heat of the Hot & Spicy ratchets up internal temperatures by several degrees. Though this is a hostile food item—burning to the touch, even through the gloves, and combustible on the tongue—not finishing is hardly an option because the culinary calculus of the Hot & Spicy, pain plus pleasure, is transportive.

Aside from its searing character, the sauce is oceans away from Buffalo, NY, or Louisiana. More sweet than vinegary, the flavor likely owes much to gochujang, the glutinous red chili paste that defines many Korean dishes. Typically, recipes for KFC augment the already-sweet gochujang with honey and/or brown sugar as well as sesame oil, soy sauce, and garlic. It is hard to discern what exactly all goes into The ToreOre’s sauce but it is the stuff of future cravings. (We overheard another customer ask what they put in the Hot & Spicy, but the cashier kept the mystery alive with an “I don’t know.”)

Garlic Plus – All parts mixed (7 pieces, $9.99): On a repeat visit, we resisted the urge for more fried-chicken masochism by opting for the Garlic Plus. This version packs a pungent punch of garlic but also shares the saccharine quality of the Hot & Spicy. We loved this flavor too—the less-saucy options allow the crackle of the chicken to reverberate that much louder through the food hall—but the chili heat of our previous order better countered the sweetness that The ToreOre favors.

Boneless Gang Jung (Small, $8.99): This standalone item intrigued us with the addition of rice cakes. Like the Garlic Plus, the Gang Jung lacks any spice heat. Instead, it derives its flavor from peanuts care of a sprinkling of crushed nut powder along with black sesame seeds, diced carrot, and chopped green pepper. The rice cakes, shaped like peanuts in the shell (on purpose, we’d prefer to believe), provide a fun, springy starch base. Though addictive, the Gang Jung slightly recalls excessively-battered, extra-syrupy Chinese-American standards like sesame chicken.

Order, shop while you wait, then gorge. Now, when we go to H Mart intending to be grown, budget-conscious adults who eat at home, we fear The ToreOre will likely trap us with its Hot & Spicy chicken. But there are advantages to succumbing to this crisp, piquant bird. Cooking time usually runs 15–20 minutes, so you can shop while your chicken makes repeat visits to the fryer and then to a pizza box. Plus, after cleaning out your box, you will be less tempted to sneak imported candies into your cart on the way to checkout.