The Tuesday Taste: The Chicken Sandwich Mishap

 

 

Yeah, when you're flying your flag

All my confidence sags

You got me packing my bags

I'll stowaway at sea, yeah

You make me mutiny 

Where you are

I won't be

You're going to be the death of me

 

It definitely didn't go according to plan this week.

 

I had it all timed up nicely. My original intended review closes at 9pm on Mondays, as does the Value Village in Leslieville (I wanted to buy some more CDs because I'm trapped in the 1990's apparently). My plan was to leave my painting gig around eight so to provide plenty of buffer room to achieve both goals. 

Along comes 8 o'clock, the mid-May sun beginning to brightly set here in the east end of Toronto, and I began closing up shop. As I'm locking up my buddy's big cargo container, a very friendly fella who helps run the facility starts chatting me up. He offers me a tall can of Old Milwaukee, and while I may be a snob (it's a prerequisite of being an internet critic) I am certainly not the type of sociopath to turn down any beer offered in kindness. 

We continued chatting and walking for a bit, the western sun continuing to sink beneath the horizon like a grand vertical stopwatch to my plan. I drink my drink with polite haste (although my counterpart downed his much quicker than I) and about ten minutes elapse. We cheerfully part ways, but now time is beginning to crunch me. 

No matter. I still had half an hour to spare, two wheels eager for an ambitious adventure and was already reasonably close to both my destinations. Order the food, go album hunting for a few minutes, come back with my grub ready just as they close. Perfect timing. 

Well... not quite. After a long day of moving wood planks around in the sun, on an empty stomach no less... that can of Old Milwaukee hit me a bit harder than expected. Hey, it's a 5.5 percenter! Don't worry, I didn't wipe out or anything... but my brain apparently erased the precise location of where I was going to. Down I went on Carlaw Avenue (spoiler?) and somehow didn't see what I was looking for. Retracing my steps for a couple blocks... still couldn't find it, and the confusion grew. 

Now everything closed in twenty minutes, which at this point still wouldn't be an issue except... well... my internal workings start giving me that signal. You know the one, the "find a toilet imminently" flag, a tree won't do. Perfect timing. 

So begins another entrant in this absurd race against the clock. I blame the Old Milwaukee. To quote my old roommate "I'd hate to see New Milwaukee". 

In this dire situation, the strangest of desperate thoughts occurred to me: I knew a restaurant on Queen East with a bathroom immediately close to the front entrance. A place I could slip in and use the facilities while barely being seen or having to ask/plead. Of course, it's a place I used to work at: La Carnita... one of the most unpleasant jobs I've ever had. A basket loaded with bad memories. Don't get me wrong, the food was/is quite good (and with over four locations I may have to properly review them someday) but I was at a strange point in my life and a few of the people I worked with were just legitimately gigantic pricks. I spent large chunks of my shifts hiding in the bathroom stall (you can see why they liked me) and now seven years later here I was again.

I quickly slipped through the front door of La Carnita East and zipped to the right and down the stairs where I knew the washrooms were (apparently my brain can remember the floor plan of a place I haven't been to in seven years but can't recall an address I looked up four hours ago). My stealth operation wasn't quite ninja-like, as I heard a voice aggressively call out "Hey! What do you want? Hey!"... exactly the level of friendliness I associate with my time as an employee there. Nice to know they've remained on brand.     

Still, I was in some measure an intruder and made sure to oblige the campsite rule. Once that awkward business was done, there were only ten minutes until 9pm and a serious risk of failing at both of my objectives for the evening. So... I chose the album hunting. Now sure, I could've called M... I mean my food destination and picked it up after the bell... but I've worked in a lot of restaurants and nobody likes to be that person you're waiting on when you just wanna close up shop after a long day. There needs to be a name for that unspoken rule... fire your nominations away.

 

Long winded backstory aside, I did try something to review this week... and it was so bad I had to try something else both for the sake of comparison and also just to clear that (non)flavour from my mouth. Yep, it's back to slagging the manufactured food factory of McDonald's and their attempt to resemble something that tastes like something. It's the McChicken! 

First off... it's never good when your freaking chicken sandwich has the exact same texture and juiciness as your beef burger. This reminds the tongue of chicken, but like a condensed, minced and pulped version of such a thing. It really is suspiciously juicy also... I love white chicken breast and cook it for myself all the time but even frying and drenching the thing in butter isn't going to result in something like this. It's an illusion.

It has that iconic 'McDonald's taste' which I'd describe a mix of grease, salt and pepper... just with the fading feel of chicken. I find McDonald's extremely dry (their sandwich buns are consistently stiff and this is no exception) and so at least here the juiciness of the chicken is a welcomed element. I'd take this over any of their hamburgers, and as a chicken option I'd say this is also better than KFC (which I think can be commonly agreed is barely edible). 

It's not very good though... there need to be layers, crunch and little changes in flavour bite-to-bite in a genuine fried chicken sandwich. The McChicken is too perfect in it's shape, texture and similitude. I suppose that means you know what you're getting every single time... which I can see the appeal of but is definitely not for me. This is the cookie cutter of chicken sandwiches... there's conceptual machinery in place to create the exact same product precisely each time. Maybe that's fine for a lot of people (clearly so) and I'm not one to judge that, please like what you like... but personally I've always found the fakeness of this food rather repulsive.        

 

 

So I washed that unpleasantness aside with another chicken sandwich! Geez how am I not 300 million pounds at this point. Off to Popeye's I went... problem is I've already reviewed them (the very first Tuesday Taste in fact) so there really isn't a whole lot to say about that detour without repeating myself (I save the 'repeating myself' parts for when I explain why McDonald's sucks). 

However, I didn't review Popeye's fries on that first try (incidental rhyme).. so here goes. I like the different seasoning they have, it's overdone certainly but there is plenty of distinctive spice. They're also exceptionally oily, even for a french fry, and there's a bit of a externally stale "been under a heat lamp too long" aspect to them I've noticed here and previously. Very 'whatever' as far as fast food french fries go... and to be honest most fast food chains have underwhelming fries. To take one last shot at McDonald's, their fries are boring bland sticks of saltiness... distinctive only in that very few commonly edible things taste less like actual food. Burger's Priest perhaps (or Rudy's) have come the closest to offering something that tastes like real potatoes, and so not needing a curtain of over-seasoned, super oily grossness. 

Overall... I wouldn't recommend anything I just reviewed, especially the McChicken. Go check out Chica's, PG Cluck's, Heartbreak Chef (haven't tried them yet to be fair), Rudy's or Dave's Hot Chicken instead. Get something real. 

It was quite a journey to get to that predictable conclusion, wasn't it. But an amusing one, I hope.

 

Burnt Ends -- In case you missed it, I checked out A&W's 'Best Burger Ever' last week (a bold claim I dispute, but an admirable effort). Also... yes some final thoughts on the nightmare that is Star Trek: Picard season 2 will be coming soon. At this point it feels like modern Trek is keeping me hostage, and finishing this up can allow me to see fresh air once again. 

 

They're Zany To The Max -- As a kid who grew up in the 1990s, I definitely watched some Animaniacs. So check out this origin story of those crazy siblings, Yakko, Wakko and Dot.  

 

Tuesday Tune -- This album turned fifty years old last week, and while lost in the previous spirit of my youth I was tempted to share a Billy Talent tune here... I cannot deny the sheer awesomeness of one of the greatest records ever made (and perhaps the best double album... although London Calling is certainly stiff company). Enjoy this closing track, to close out this bizarre review that's kind of a non-review. Don't spill that mustard either.