I don’t mean to gloat, but … oh, who am I kidding?! I love to gloat and really, when you’ve got this kind of chicken at your disposal whenever you want (except Sundays), who wouldn’t feel at least a little bit boisterous?
You see, long, long ago I thought I knew what good chicken was – enjoying a savory Spicy Chicken Sandwich from Wendy’s or even munching on the classic Chicken McNuggets a la Happy Meal that I grew up on. I was content. It seemed like a good enough meal. I guess I just didn’t know any better…
And then a few years ago I moved south to Florida and saw the light … the chicken-flavored light, and needless to say, things just haven’t been the same since. Because if there’s one thing that the south knows, besides warmth, mind you, it’s how to brew up the most delectable chicken this side of the Mason-Dixon Line. Seriously, these people down here do things with chicken wings that would rock your world, but I’m not here to rave about mega hot chicken wings today, for that would be the equivalent of worshipping the prince in the king’s presence (the monarchial figureheads, not the musical legends). For anyone who really knows chicken will proudly proclaim that there is only one who creates a variety of chicken so tender and delicious that men would happily give their lives for an 8-piece nugget with a side of waffle fries and a handspun milkshake.
Of course, that one and only king of the chicken sandwich, along with many other fine chicken-based lunch and dinner items, is none other than the legendary, the magnificent … Chick-Fil-A.
Never before has meticulously breaded chicken been cooked to precision in 100% fully refined peanut oil to produce a nugget, strip, or full-blown sandwich so tasty that it would instantly render all other chicken products around the globe inferior with a single moist and tender bite. Smothered in their heavenly blend of Polynesian Sauce that fills other sweet and sour varieties with a combination of envy, jealousy, and shame, Chick-Fil-A chicken is the caviar of fast food, except that there are no worrisome afterthoughts like when it really sinks in that you’ve been nibbling on fish eggs all night long.
Living up north, I never knew that I would find true happiness with regards to deep-fried deliciousness, but it was here in the Sunshine State, with its magic and whimsy and precipitation that doesn’t freeze in the wintertime, where I learned that not all chicken is created equal and one doesn’t have to sacrifice quality and flavor and juiciness for the fast food convenience. Words can never truly express the gratitude that I owe to S. Truett Cathy and his fantastic family of foul fanatics for opening my eyes to the wonders of poultry perfection, however I’ll still nonetheless raise a crispy chicken strip with pride and urge my fellow Americans to open up their hearts and their stomachs with those three simple words that changed my life forever, “EAT MOR CHIKIN…”