Can someone please explain to my why the chicken ain’t the National of These United State of North Americans bird? Have you ever tasted bald eagle? Did I just answer my own question? (I missed President O’s SOTU. Did I miss this too?)
The perennial front-runner: Turkey, is far too dumb and ugly to be elevated above the status of say the official bird of congress. Verdad, chicken suggests weakness but only to someone who has never eaten hot chicken in Nashville.
But c’mon, let’s be honest ‘merica: who refers to acts of bravery, patriotism or congress as “Bald Eagley”.
Unconvinced? Anyone who has ever seen the whites of the eyes of a real live bald eagle – not on TV, the Internet, or zooed – please step to the front of the class…..just as I expected.
Therefore the second law, amendment, favor, creed or dictum or edict – whatever they’re called – I shall pass down once elected President: fried chicken from some day forth shall be the official food of these United States of North Americans. The first was obviously outlawing cumin.
Admittedly, I may sound like a trend-follower, what with fried chicken and waffles now available at Popeyes and Chicago experiencing something of a pollo frito renaissance last summer. But diga me, once I put this shit into law there will be no more fried chicken ‘fads” only beachfront vacations in Guantanamo Bay for anyone who pooh-poohs perhaps These United States of North American’s most significant contribution to childhood obesity, I mean our big-fat-ol’-democratic-collective gut.
Yeah, while last summer when every last foodie and Yelper had been sent running to what from all reports and jpegs looks like fried chicken’s answer to The Shake Shack’s cheeseburger I chose to explore those deep fired establishments that only make it into the Red Eye Crime Tracker inexplicably ignored in a survey 2013).
Actually, I started checking out these fried chicken shacks , hatchets and all, last winter. I work a swing shift down in the Loop and decent eats are slim pickens
Mira: I am not here to report of my starting the pollo frito trend – among others: The Return of the Rat Tail 2014 – as this blog is mostly committed to both exposing local poseurs and passable purveyors of Az/Chi/Mex comida. Which, as is my practice, brings us in the most meanderingly roundabout way to Chick-Fil-a.
Fried chicken re-flavored forever the epicurial zeitgeist and went from posh to pop the day Chick-Fil-a’s Loop location finally unhinged its rotating glass doors. At the corner of State and Lake where once stood bummed out OTB losers now sit wide-eyed fried foul feeders, snackin’ as blissed out on yard bird as the Yard Bird was ever blissed out on smack.
Am I the only ex-smoker who sorta wonders where the heck Big Tobacco’s dark and evil forces fled? And am I also the only ex-smoker who thinks perhaps Phillip, RJ and the rest sold their “trade secrets” (READ: highly addictive chemical additives – big fat ol’ democratic collective nicotine vats) to fellow Southerners Chick-Fil-a?
For real, I now must walk away from this blog for a smoke. I’ve had to take up smoking again if only to curb the Chick-fil-a cravings. I’ve lost weight, am notably bitchier and was doing fine there for a stretch until last Saturday. 7-11 was out of American Spirits and I was early enough for work to pop into Chick-fil-a for breakfast.
Okay, so the smoking thing is a bullshit excuse, a lie I tell myself so I can eat something I wouldn’t blog. This for me defeats the whole purpose of trying anything I haven’t made at home and amazing. I can’t blog every meal but I do pretty much eat Az/Chi/Mex exclusively. The only real exceptions are when my wife cooks or buys and hot dogs. I was raised believing that eating out was a special occasion – until our mom bought a hoagie and pizza restaurant that flipped the whole equation and I’ve been foodily fcked since.
See what not smoking or eating Chic-file-t does to a brain? (It makes for really poor spelling by cows for one thing.) Look, I was as blown away as the next SouthWesterner my first bite of a breakfast burrito made with eggs, shredded hasbrowns, not my favorite selection of peppers (bell/red) and onions, cheese and HOLY SHIT ARE THOSE FRESHLY FRIED CHICKEN CHUNKS!??!. Yeah, I know I rocked that all caps thing last blog, but seriously, I was ready to rush to the bank, then the store for some sans-e-belt slacks, and call in sick to gorge myself silly on what outside of Taco Bell and my beloved Jack-in-the-Box is the closest approximation to a gringo/Az/Mex mix I might slather into a tortilla at home. I may even have shouted afore all-capped words aloud. Addiction can do strange things to a man.
Not really sure. I was so tuned into my headphones/ear muffs to notice. Had cued up for the grubbing:
NOTE: Should you choose a Chick-fil-a ‘habit’ and choose the burrito before moving on the hot chicken bisquit (hell if I’ll ever be able to spell that word) I had also ordeded and you will too – trust me – root around the bag before inhaling. Chick-fil-a, purveyors of not simply nicotine chicken, also offer a selection of additional nicotine delivery vehicles that come in the way of sauces all for the dipping and slathering. Just so the lowly burrito would not feel left out, they’ve designed a damn fine jalapeno salsa. Foolishly, I did not discover this until I was down to my last bite. On my return visit the next day I asked for a few more packs of salsa for future reference.