The second my eyes blinked open this morning, I knew I was in for a treat. Today is a day that warrants its noble distinction, one celebrated the whole world over in recognition of a thing so sacred, so magnanimous in its existence. Yes friends, today is that day where we recognize the humble chicken and its omnipotent iteration as one breaded and deep-fried for the benefit of tastebuds and appetites everywhere.

Happy National Fried Chicken Day.

Mere moments after uttering such a greeting, I’m already counting down the next 365 days until I can say it again. If the obvious somehow hasn’t revealed itself to you already, then here’s the complete lecture at hand: I love fried chicken. This declaration rings true dearly, knowing the deep affection I have for every crispy… juicy… savory, bite of it.

And so, in honor of such a beloved day, I present to you the very reasons why I love fried chicken.

That crunch thooooo…

No matter the manner of breading, or how its been brined, my favorite part about fried chicken is its soul-soothing crunch. The barometer for that perfect crisp can be indicated through the perfect, golden hue of the outer skin: sun-kissed in appearance, delectably brittle in structure. One impeccable crunch is all it takes for me to perpetuate this love for fried chicken.

I bow to the flavor gods above

Whether you take your bird packed with heat or arrested in savory nirvana, fried chicken’s versatility in flavor will satisfy any discerning foodie. So much so, that I promise, every bite of your version of perfection will have you dancing right where you stand in no time. So go ahead and Stanky Leg that drumstick away, Nae-Nae your enthusiasm for that thigh, and heck if your fried chicken’s just that good, headspin out your love for it. A lover of wings, you say? Well the endless kinds of sauces to coat your little golden trophies should be reason enough to have you praising any known deity for the creation of fried chicken.

Gotta have ’em all

Oh so it’s raining fried chicken? Hallelujah. I’ll take it in any form, really, from the buttermilk-brined goodness of the American Southern fry, to the perfectly crisped skin of the Filipino kind, to the double-fried, sauced up Korean counterpart. My love for the fried bird knows no cultural bounds. And if you feel so inclined to echo my sentiments, I toast a drumstick to you, friends. This one’s for the golden foul that’s finessed it’s crisp contents into our chicken-lovin’ hearts everywhere.

I salute you fried chicken. Today is your day, and technically, all fried chicken lovers’ as well.