Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Here's the thing about the KFC Double Down

Here's the thing about the KFC Double Down. It's not weird at all. Stop freaking out.

The sandwich was brought to my attention by the social media blitz it created mostly because someone took the standard components of a modest meal and assembled them into a sandwich. That modest meal just happened not to feature any bread, so the outside of said sandwich is two reasonably sized pieces of fried chicken. To keep your hands clean, it comes in wax paper.

If you took the sandwich apart, you'd have two average pieces of chicken, a tiny bit of bacon, a little cup of sauce, and some cheese. No big whoop.

The thing's about the size of a McDonald's hamburger, so KFC's advertising agency clearly used some very special camera lenses to make this thing look much larger than it actually is. I had a Double Down, a side of mashed potatoes and two Dr. Peppers and I'm not even uncomfortable at this moment.

On to the flavors.

It's delicious. The fried chicken breading has some black pepper and other seasonings, the Colonel must have an interesting diet because the orange "Colonel's Sauce" is nice and zesty, and the Monterey and pepper jack cheeses (yes I actually ate the cheese) added a nice little kick and didn't taste like rancid death.

So, go eat the damn thing because at 540 calories, it's less than 1/3 of your daily caloric intake. And despite what the hippies in my office say, the universe is NOT going to be replacing bread with meat any time soon.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Floor pastry from Bread and Cocoa, San Francisco

Before work this morning, I went to the cafe / pastry shop on my hotel's corner, Bread and Coco. I was there on Monday morning, when I enjoyed a coffee, orange juice (California-style?) and my all time favorite -- a chocolate pastry.

The flavors were just right and the place has a great Motown soundtrack.

Because of this exceptional experience, I returned. This time, I got the usual coffee and OJ but this time the main course was something different:

Floor pastry.

The conditions have to be right for a floor pastry to be made. Some of them are as follows:

  • Some jerk in front of you swoops in and steals the last chocolate pastry

  • Mind reeling, you grab some giant fruit-filled pastry

  • The giant fruit-filled pasty fits in the pastry envelope but doesn't leave room to fold the end over

  • The cashier rings you up for a bear claw

  • You receive your coffee without room for sugar

  • You only have two arms but three breakfast items, so you have to put the pastry in your Chrome bag

  • While trying to be a cool guy and put the pastry in your bag, it falls out of the pastry envelope, landing face-down on the floor under a table

But let's get you in on the ground floor of the floor pastry-eating experience.

The material of this particular item is akin to the particle board that comprised most of the furniture you had in college -- you attempt to cut it and get a few sizable bits but, in general, it crumbles all over the place.

In the end, the dirt people tracked in had a negligible effect on flavor.

Oh, and the fruit was blueberry.