The fried chicken challenge is down to 2. Vote now in the Frynals.

And now, for the main course.

After four rounds and nearly 40,000 votes, IndyStar's Fried Chicken Challenge has gone from a field of 32 contenders to two thighnalists. On one side of the bracket, we have the historic No. 6-seeded Kopper Kettle Inn of Morristown, which rode an aggressive Facebook campaign to end No. 16 Sgt. Pepper's Chicken of Martinsville's Cinderella run, 15,103 votes to 5,762.

Central Indiana's oldest fried chicken eatery will square off against No. 4 Wilson Farm Market of Arcadia, which has survived a grease-slicked gauntlet of challengers from Indianapolis and beyond to reach the championship. Last round, Wilson logged 1,512 votes to No. 8 Putnam Inn of Greencastle's 506.

Similar to IndyStar's burger and tenderloin brackets of the last two years, one competitor has seemingly distanced itself from the pack through the first several rounds. However, one of the few ways in which our niche food bracket mirrors actual March Madness is that truly anything can happen — Kopper Kettle may have name recognition on its side, but Wilson has defied the odds time and time again.

Below, you'll find the poll to determine the favorite Hoosier fried chicken of central Indiana. But if you somehow haven't gotten your fill of fried chicken knowledge, I have one last helping of history to heap on your plate.

In fried chicken history: What is Hoosier fried chicken, anyway?

The archetypal fried chicken in the States is Southern fried chicken, the poultry progenitor from which pretty much all other American fried chicken is derived. Though the earliest fried chicken pioneered by enslaved African women was pretty bare-bones, the quintessential Southern bird these days is defined by a tangy buttermilk marinade and a craggy, three-dimensional crust achieved through a well-spiced dredge of flour, spices and often a little extra brine. That said, according to newspaper accounts from the early and mid-1900s, Hoosier fried chicken is very real and very good.

One of the earliest available recipes for this style of chicken comes from the mother of Indiana lawyer and politician Wendell Wilkie, the first step of which is, plainly enough, "catch a chicken." The cook is then instructed to cut and clean the young bird (2-3 pounds) into pieces, coat them in a mixture of flour, salt and pepper and then fry them in a pan with lard for about 20 minutes, at which point the meat should be brown and crispy.

Though somewhat primitive, this recipe effectively establishes the core components of so-called Hoosier fried chicken. As outlined by Serious Eats and Food and Wine, Indiana's version is typified by its simplicity, cost-effectiveness and the mass volume of black pepper featured. If you've spent most of your life in this state, you'd probably just call this "fried chicken."

It's roughly the style of chicken you'll find at Indiana's oldest poultry purveyors, namely Hollyhock Hill, Kopper Kettle and the recently closed Iron Skillet, and it makes total sense. Most Hoosiers at the turn of the 20th century were not in the business of maximizing the tenderness or crunch factor of their fried chicken so much as they were trying to feed their families. Cutting a whole bird into several pieces, often including the neck and/or back, seasoning them with pantry staples and frying them in leftover grease was a great way to get by.

Fortunately, it also happened to be a rather tasty method. During the mid-1900s, Hoosier fried chicken achieved substantial acclaim both in and outside of Indiana. In a humorous and, frankly, unhinged 1939 essay published in the discontinued New York-based agricultural magazine The Country Gentleman, the author calls Indiana's style of fried chicken the best in all the land.

"It is almost impossible to get a bad piece of fried chicken in the Hoosier state," he wrote, "except in a few city hotels where imported chefs practice their dark heresies."

The essayist goes on to say all Indiana girls are born with an instinctual knowledge of how to fry excellent chicken and calls other regions' methods "rank treason." His ideal chicken, like Mrs. Wilkie's, involved rolling hunks in salt, pepper and flour and frying them in hot fat.

The May 18, 1952, edition of the Indianapolis Star details then-Gov. Henry Schricker's declaration of the "Hoosier Fried Chicken Week."

Another notable fan of Hoosier fried chicken was none other than Indiana's 36th and 38th governor, Henry Schricker. In 1952, Schricker declared the days of May 18-24 "Hoosier Fried Chicken Week" in honor of Indiana's mass production of young "broiler" chickens, with Hoosier farmers expected to ship off more than 700,000 birds during the celebratory period. "Long noted as a fried chicken enthusiast," the governor teamed up with Purdue University and the State Poultry Association to market the celebration and encourage home cooks to use their broiler chicken for such delicacies as "jellied chicken cranberry salad" and "creamed chicken mushroom waffles." Terrifying.

Schricker's fried chicken fanaticism was so well-documented that a 1952 Hammond Times article not only cited the governor as a connoisseur but claimed that he had "eaten more fried chicken than any man in America" due to his regular attendance of church, fraternal and political dinners. This is almost certainly false. However, for someone working in a profession that faces constant accusations of dishonesty, this particular politician seemed to remain refreshingly constant in at least two of his values.

Said the Hammond Times reporter of Schricker: "He loves fried chicken and people."

Vote in the championship of the Fried Chicken Challenge

At last, it's time to crown the best of the breast, the pride of the fried. Below, you will find the lone matchup for our Championchick. You can vote as many times as you'd like between now and noon on April 9, though as a reminder, IndyStar reserves the right to remove votes where there is reasonable suspicion of fowl play. The winner will be announced Monday, April 13.

And if you're particularly aggrieved by a result or snub from our bracket, let me know why (nicely, if you could) at [email protected]. Just please remember, we're talking about fried chicken here. Unlike the fryers in which the bird becomes beautifully golden brown, this really isn't that deep.

Contact dining reporter Bradley Hohulin at [email protected]. You can follow him on Instagram @BradleyHohulin and stay up to date with Indy dining news by signing up for the Indylicious newsletter.