I ate the KFC Double Down and have lived to tell the tale.
A co-worker told me about this amazing concoction of two chicken “filets” that act as bread for a sandwich of bacon, two kinds of cheese, and the Colonel’s special sauce a couple of weeks ago, and I was counting down the days until it was released. They say this thing is so meaty it needs no bun, but it also apparently needs no lettuce, tomato, pickles, nor onion. That’s right–this thing is UNAPOLOGETICALLY UNHEALTHY. And that is what I love about America.
Apparently this is what everyone else loves about America, too, because all ten to twelve people in line with me at the KFC near Grand Central were speaking with European accents. At first I thought, “HaHA! See? Everyone else is just as fat-crazed as we are!” But then I realized they were actually probably like, “We’re only here on vacation for two days. What’s the craziest, most ridiculously indulgent American thing we can eat?” Thank you, KFC.
As I walked home from KFC, my paper bag swinging beside me, I couldn’t decide if I felt
a) totally dirty, or
b) as if I had Willy Wonka’s golden ticket in my hand.
As soon as I bit into the Double Down, though, the concerns about my well-being melted away. The chicken was flecked with herbs on the outside, bright white on the inside, and juicy allllllllll over. The two strips of bacon, unnaturally pink as they were, were just the right amount of crunchiness, and the cheeses were that perfect sort of half-melted you only get at fast food chains. I understand that people are afraid of this mysterious Colonel’s Sauce, but it was just a sort of Southwestern blend: spicy, peppery, slightly orange-colored.
The sauce was abundant, though not so much that it made the “sandwich” messy, and I really could see myself eating the thing in public without too many shirt-spills, despite its unusual composition. One was definitely filling enough, which is a good thing, since it cost as much as a value meal at any other fast food joint.
And I got the grilled version, which means my arteries only half-collapsed ten minutes after I finished, and I only half-hated myself in the morning.