The penultimate sacrifice

It takes a village. We all know this. And yet, one wonders – who are the villagers, and who the villagees? Who are the people who take up the pitchforks and go in a crazy mob to the town square to protest the latest injustices, and who are those hiding out by the cozy hearth, eating bonbons and leaving the dirty work to everyone else?

I’m sure these are the exact same types of thoughts that go through everyone’s head when confronted with a monumental decision, one that requires taking one for the team, so to speak. Sacrificing the good of the individual for the good of the collective. Going boldly forth, testing the boundaries, risking extreme danger to one’s self.

I am of course talking about KFC’s new DoubleDown sandwich, which, if you haven’t heard, is a heart-stopping behemoth of a “sandwich” which substitutes 2 patties of fried chicken for the bread/bun, and has cheese, bacon, and a special sauce in between.

Even to me, someone who embraces crappy food with a vengeance (only to fuel my training, of course), and who’s been known to travel with a salt shaker, this sounds like a Bad Idea. A grease bomb of hideous proportions. And yet. Yet. I wonder – is this what America was built on? This kind of reluctance, nay fear, towards actually trying something out before condemning it? Maybe the DD has a hidden charm to it, something that doesn’t become clear until one tries it. I mean, isn’t this how the pioneers felt as they were crossing the plains in their covered wagons and encountered their first Big Macs? Which is the original weird amalgamation of meat and cheese and “special sauce”, yet one that somehow coalesces into a perfect entity unto itself?

Plus I was in CA on vacation, and because calories don’t count when one is out of the home territory, it seemed the only appropriate time to try such a thing. And I admit, I wanted to see the spectacle of the “Buckets for the Cure” flying out of KFC, now that KFC has partnered up with Komen, the most discriminating of organizations. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has said, often, “Oh, if only I had eaten more buckets of fried chicken loaded with hormones and chemicals, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten The Cancer!” That’s not just me, right?

In any case, there I was. In an odd fugue state where I was willing to risk it all for the good of mankind. And so….I did. Took a deep breath, walked into KFC, shelled out money for the infamous DoubleDown. Notice that the bacon looks like a strip of cartoon bacon, perfectly rectangular and oddly colored. That the cheese isn’t melted, and wonder about some odd DD forcefield that prevents nearby ingredients from acting as they normally would. And finally take a bite. One bite. And I think it would be no exaggeration for me to say…..

I died just a tiny bit that day.

No, really. I think I’m down to just three major arteries as I could feel one blowing after just that one bite of this greasy, salty, god-awful horribleness. Of a saltbomb so heinous it defies description. And I realize that fried chicken truly needs to be accompanied by bread, to absorb some of the grease and make the whole thing palatable and tasty, rather than scary. This was scary. I still have nightmares. Me, thinking that something is disgustingly salty? Yeah, that’s a problem.

I doubt anyone reading this was planning to actually go out and try the DoubleDown, except for scientific and/or research purposes naturally, but if you were, or were just thinking “what the hell,” consider yourself warned. And if this thing becomes some big best-seller in the US……god help us all.