Red PepperBistro

Tucked into a Strathfield sports club, this Korean kitchen has been frying chicken since the mid-2000s, and the chicken is why the room stays full. A dozen versions come out of it, each bird marinated for twelve hours and fried twice for the lacquered crunch that holds even under sauce. The house favourite arrives heaped with spring onion over a thick, slightly sweet wasabi-and-soy gravy; elsewhere there is the snow-cheese version dusted in powdered parmesan, and a soy-sauce gangjung drenched, without going soft, in something sticky and sweet-sour. Around the chicken sits a short run of Korean staples and pub-style plates, the kind of easy, shareable eating that suits a table of friends and a jug between them. The setting is unpretentious, club carpet, big tables, television murmur, and that is part of the appeal; the food does not trade on the room. It is a family-run operation that has kept its standards steady across two decades while the city's Korean fried chicken scene grew up around it. Come hungry, come in numbers, and let the double-fried birds do the talking.