Kentucky Fried Chicken. From the Mothership.
It should surprise no one that until our visit to the original KFC I had never visited the restaurant. Ever. So on the advice of the order clerk we brought home an 8-piece bucket, a carton of whipped potatoes, and a container of corn from our Kentucky road trip.
And the verdict? The chicken was crispy and with flavor, though perhaps a tad greasy for my tastes. The corn was delicious, the potatoes lacked character. For me there is but one gold standard, the Kartoffelpuree from that little restaurant on the Czech-Austrian border Anna Grace and I happened upon early in our oversees tenure.
Will I eat KFC again? When faced with more dire alternatives, like pretty much every garbage roadside eatery in America; or when it’s Sunday and Chik-fil-A is closed, probably.