After more than six months of promising myself that I would eat one, I finally ran out of excuses not to try this abomination. I didn't get one after the Rev3 Half Ironman, nor the 103-mile ride over the Cherohala Skyway. Ditto my Atomic Man 1/2 marathon, the Booker T Washington tri, or my Flintstone Triathlon victory. Not even after a normal, long-ish bike ride or run.
No, this "sandwich" was consumed after arguably my least-active week of the entire year. Following a week of recuperating my knee -- with little to show for it, by the way -- and eating accordingly less than I'm used to, my stomach craved a fat-frenzied protein pounding. And who am I to deny the onslaught? I waited until I was suitably hungry, then hit the drive-thru at the closest KFC.
My first complaint was that KFC shares a building (and kitchen) with Long John Silver's. I was jonesin' for some steak fries, but they only serve run-of-the-mill Silver's fries. Strike one. The drive-thru also took a really long time, but I'll excuse it because my Double Down was piping hot.
I had to take a picture. My fingers left a slight grease stain on my phone's touch screen. I was momentarily delayed in savoring the awesomeness.
The first bite set the bar. It was hot and juicy, with a crispy fried coating. The cheese was melted and creamy. The bacon and special sauce gave it a surprising, spicy, smoky kick -- they set off each of the 13 secret spices of the original recipe. In short, it was a delicious mouthful of food.
And then I began to notice the less pleasant sensations. Where did KFC find so many pieces of chicken shaped perfectly for a sandwich? Why is this meat so uniformly dense? How did I convince myself to ingest so many potential carcinogens and heart disease risk factors in one setting?
As the sandwich -- and I use that term loosely, considering there's no bread -- gently cooled down, the chicken became a little tougher to chew. The cheese became more noticeable as its own entity. The bacon took a little more tooth to cut through. It lacked the greasy, brand-new taste of seven minutes prior. I finished the sandwich and the mismatched fries, overstuffed from the weighty ingredients.
Hours later, I still felt uncomfortably full as I went to sleep. I wasn't exactly hungry when I woke up, either. I'm glad I challenged myself, though, to go through with it. At $5 ($7.08 with fries, and tax) it's an expensive undertaking for what it is. I would be much more pleased in the taste category with a Five Guys burger, or some Zaxby's chicken fingers -- and I know from experience that I wouldn't have the same gut-bombed feeling.
On the fast-food spectrum, KFC should stick to home-grown classics like regular fried chicken. Leave the creations to the other people, like Hardee's. They've always got some ridiculous Philly Cheesesteak Grilled Portabello Chipotle Girthyburger promotion going on. That's for some other time. In the meantime, I'm going to start a 3-day juice fast to clear the polyps inevitably growing in my large intestines.
*Don't judge me. Or, if you have to judge me, note that I didn't order any biscuits or sweet tea. I still respect myself...a little bit.
2 comments:
I think my stomach just got that gut-bomb feeling just reading this...
Not going to lie here: I am so hungry right now, and I really want to go to KFC and get that now. My real stomach hates you because my body is actually too lazy to get up and drive over to the KFC. I'll just drink a glass of water. It'll be awesome.
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