Is anyone else tired of chicken? Not just any chicken, the plain chicken you get in the grocery store that you have to take home and put in the refrigerator. That chicken. That kind of food.
I’m tired of tasteless. My taste buds aren’t 95 years old. I’m not gumming my food. And my cultural inclination- when eating meat- is to embellish it, with or without sauce…
Or seven herbs and spices, the kind the colonel makes. The colonel used to make. The colonel used to have his workers make. After all, he’s dead, and so is his chicken…tortured or untortured…thrown against the wall or not thrown against the wall…Kentucky Fried Chicken, the eighth wonder of the world.
Maybe, in my longing for small, controlled plastic sealed mashed potatoes and gravy, I feel a certain affinity with the rest of the USA. That would make sense, as this Irish boy does not feel at home- some of the time- in this polyglot nation of fast food giants,
Which would make you cook at home most of the time. Which I do. Which is why I am eating fresh ingredients from my refrigerator’s vast domain. Which is why I am getting tired of eating yummy things that are healthy for me. Which is why I drool passing by the aroma of freshly frying chicken. Which is another reason for writing in phrases, breaking all the rules of standard English in one paragraph.
Perhaps, though, there is some truth to those fringe elements, those who have made documentaries of horrific tales of chemical additive addiction. And not just those who religiously read The Weekly world News, but a vast contingent of average, law-abiding citizens.
People like this man….
who claim the colonel adds an addictive chemical making you “cleave fortnightly.” (Mike Myers, So I Married An Axe Murderer)
Nevertheless, I am determined…yes, I have pledged…to drive forty-five minutes to partake in the juicy-seared-goodness of the colonel’s chicken- regardless of that poor chicken’s previous treatment in captivity before succombing to the plucker, the freezer, and trip to the restaurant.
I shall be away for awhile, enjoying my plastic tub of mashed potatoes and gravy, but I shall return soon to eat dinner at home, with or without sauce.