This week I finally tried a KFC Doubledown sandwich. (I know, I know…way behind the rest of the world) For those who don’t know…it’s a breadless sandwich of bacon, two kinds of cheese, some sauce stuff all in between two pieces of chicken. I thought, hey, I like chicken. I like cheese. I like bacon. I’m not adversely opposed to sauce stuff. This can’t be that bad, right?
Wrong, people. It is that bad. It’s worse than ‘that bad’. If you asked ‘that bad’ to eat this sandwich it would laugh at you and then punch you in the face.
I opted for the grilled version (mostly because I’m not a huge fan of fried chicken) and the first thing I noticed was that cheese or sauce or bacon grease or sadness had leaked out of the box and into the bag. Then it apparently ate through the bottom of the bag and pooled onto the table. Thankfully I caught it in time before it ate a whole through the table, and really, that should have been enough of a warning to keep me from ingesting the meal. A train full of bacon and cheese and chicken can’t be stopped so I went ahead and started eating. Or at least tried. The great thing about bread, besides being the place you put mustard and containing a portion of your daily fiber is that it is great for holding. Bread is the like police for your sandwich, holding it all together until it gets into your mouth…and that analogy makes me look at the justice system in an entirely new light…but you know what I mean. Bread = food handles. It was pretty impossible to figure out how to hold this thing. Grilled chicken fillets are naturally a bit slippery and once you add melted cheese and whatever that sauce was made from there really was no chance this was getting to my mouth in any sort of dignified manner.
Armed with a handful of napkins and a fork, I finally got my first bite of doubledown-ness. I think the best word to describe the taste was “full”. Yup, my mouth was full, full of chicken, full of bacon, full of cheese, full of secret sauce. You’d think that being that full of that many things, my mouth would be experiencing some sort of flavor explosion. Nope. Not even a tiny flavor firecracker. It was just…full. The chicken was dry and what chickeny taste there would have been was overwhelmed by the cheese and sauce. The bacon had the same problem, I didn’t really taste it at all. In fact the strongest taste was that of the secret sauce…and it wasn’t a good taste. I’m not sure what the secret sauce was made of, but as far as I’m concerned it can stay a secret.
It’s a sad thing but a combination of things that you love turn out so very wrong. Like when you find yourself sitting in a movie theater and thinking that space battles and Ewan McGregor should really be more exciting, or that a song with a cartoon cat and Paula Abdul shouldn’t make you this uncomfortable, or a book about vampires, werewolves and special powers that still manages to be incredibly dull. Individually, all these things are high on the awesome scale, yet someone has managed to merge them together in a way that drains all the goodness right out. It’s like a horrible kind of sorcery. One that I will be avoiding by eating my foods separately for a while…like God intended.
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