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I am sandwich. Hear me roar.

April 24, 2010

So. When contemplating writing about food in St. Louis, the following, errr, taste treat, wasn’t exactly what came to mind.  But lest I affront fate and the calls of nature, I shouldn’t fight against what is good and wonderful, if unexpected.

I call your attention to the Double Down, of KFC provenance.  2 chicken filets encasing bacon, pepper-jack cheese, and some kind of sauce.  No bread.  I am sandwich.  Hear me roar.

Until this past Monday, I had not been to a KFC in many a moon.  However, a meat enthusiast friend of mine, SPK, sent the following message/command to fellow meat enthusiasts re: a lunch outing to honor the debut of the Double Down on April 12th.

“This is probably the most important moment of our adult lives.  Don’t fuck this up.

Class scheduling conflict?  DROP OUT

Spouse giving you guff?  DESTROY THEM WITH FIRE

You are a pussy that can’t handle greatness? BE BETTER AT LIFE”

Naturally, I was down.  One might even say doubly down.  Or perhaps quadruply down, like my eventual bypass will be.  And it was worth it.  We sat eating our fried chicken greatness to the sound of “God Bless the USA” playing from an iphone.  Need a Monday lunch indulgence?   Then be better at life, go eat a double down, and then eat raw carrots for the next several meals.

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