Chicken for Breakfast: I'm Lovin' It

While at painting class last night, with the class full and busily man-handling their color still lifes (oh wait, that was just me), the radio was on and playing all sorts of fun 1970s classic rock.

And then a commercial promoting McDonald's new breakfast treat—chicken biscuits—came on and interrupted the quiet. The class all simultaneously reacted negatively, with the teacher even saying aloud, "who eats chicken for breakfast?"

Uh...have you EVER been to Chick-fil-A? The fast food chain that is healthier than the rest, tastes better, smells delicious and is torturously NOT in the Midwest yet? Ok, so apparently there are a few franchise spots up in Wisconsin, but even I haven't had that much of an urge. Yet.

At Atlanta-based Chick-fil-A, you eat chicken for breakfast, and you wash it down with a giant lemonade. That's just what you do. Then you go back at lunch and get the nuggets and waffle fries, and wash that down with a sweet tea. HEAVEN.

So now when I'm seeing the article in the Chicago Tribune today asking, "Will the chicken for breakfast work in the North?" it just upsets me. At least one observer, quoted in the article, was smart enough to give credit where credit was due saying, "They may not admit this, but it looks like they copied this a little from Chick-fil-A."

Give it a chance. I'm not sure that Midwest-based McDonald's will do it the way that Chick-fil-A does, or half as well, but let's not knock it before you've tasted the delicious salty chicken resting on a buttery, flaky biscuit.

McDonald's is giving them out free tomorrow, and Costa-Rica-trip-diet be damned, I'll be in line.

Wishing it were the real thing, but willing to take one for the team, and sacrifice a little something for a taste. I'll let you know.

Curious Combination Y'all

A fried-food-loving (beautifully thin) friend at work was proudly cooking her chicken fries today for lunch. When we looked at the box, we saw that they were Dwight Yoakam's brand of foods. They are only a dollar at Walgreen's, so what do you expect.

But I must say that I find this hilarious—I know that Paul Newman has long since promoted his dressings and other foods under his name, but come on.

A country star? What does he know about chicken?

Well, I guess now that I type that sentence, anyone from a small, rural town like he probabaly calls home likely does know a thing or two about frying up some chicken.

But, still. I'm in branding, and I think this goes a bit far.

What's next?

Kelly Clarkson Texas-sized onion rings?

Britney Spears fatty cheese doodles?

Ok. Actually, these start to make sense.

However, I'm still not buying them.

Chicken Torture

No, this is not a post about the terrors of cock-fighting.

Last night, on the way home from a brief bout of shopping, I was feeling the stomach growling as I made my way home on Michigan Ave. The bus was fairly empty, and I had a seat, a new book and my iPod tunes. I was happy.

Then a woman boarded at the last stop before the Lake Shore Drive underpass with the worst thing to bring on a bus. Terrible. Cruel and unusual.

She was toting a large take-out bag of fried chicken.

You think it is safely sealed in those plastic containers? Yeah, no.

The smell of fresh, crispy, warm, seasoned fried chicken flooded the bus. People looked around, noses perked up, stomachs audibly responded.

As a girl from the south, I know some good fried chicken when I smell it. And that was finger lickin' good chicken.

I had to use everything in my power keep myself from getting off at her stop and following her home for dinner.