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Reid posted this on April 16th, 2010

I have never felt these things earned the title of sandwich. Certainly delicious, but not sandwich. They fail several key aspects:
- Portability – Ice cream sandwiches hate lunch sacks.
- Modular construction – I swear these things are extruded, not stacked.
- Exoskeleton – The outer shell, be it bread or whatever, must hold a sandwich together. The frozen ice cream maintains shape on its own, while the pudding-skin outer layer merely sullies your poor cold hands.
By the way, this is what engineers do all day.
Reid posted this on April 14th, 2010
So KFC shocks the world with their Double Down, a chicken sandwich without bread. That is, the chicken is the bread, they have bypassed bun convention to simply slap some fillings between fillings. The sandwich community was in uproar that eHOR didn’t have full coverage of the release. This is a revolution in sandwich, it must be! Well, here’s my review: KFC is a bucket of pansies.
Listen KFC, your ghetto-cordon-bleu looked familiar. Oh, that’s right, it’s just an extra-patty chicken-sandwich like I used to order at Wendy’s back in grade school. Except without bread. You think that’s edgy? “Too much meat for a bun” is hardcore? Here’s hardcore: I take your $5 breadless sandwich and shove it inside a sandwich. And because we’re playing dirty, that sandwich will be a true classic of gutter craptasticness: the Big Mac.


Presenting the Double Up, alternatively called the Double Over. Here’s 1200 calories and 3000 mg of sodium, with enough secret sauce to lube it all the way down the food hole. No less (and likely more) than three different animals died for this sandwich. And, by a complete surprise to even myself, it tasted pretty damn fantastic, an incredible pairing of highly processed food products.

Stay tuned next week when I try out the Veinteiuno, where I skilfully insert a Double Down into a 7-Layer Burrito.
devidal posted this on April 12th, 2010
There’s been a lot of hype about this sandwich. People have called it everything under the sun, from gluttonous to glorious, delectable to disgusting. The internet is abuzz about two pieces of fried chicken surrounding bacon, cheese, and a condiment known only as “Colonel’s Sauce”. The last thing I want to do is buy into corporate marketing, or continue adding fuel to the hype fire, but I think it’s fair to say: this sandwich is our generation’s moon landing.
Think about it. For years, developed civilizations have been trying to push the boundaries of sandwich exploration. China made great strides in the 18th century, up until the Dalian Dagwood Disaster of 1852. With the memories still haunting, the Chinese abandoned the concept altogether and never looked back . The Russians’ bold dressing experiments yielded great results, revolutionizing the Reuben, until the concept and naming rights were stolen by Canadian espionage. In the early 40’s, some of Italy’s brightest minds boldly suggested that they do something other than “cut it long ways an stick some meat in there.” Mussolini had them executed immediately.
With the proper historical context in mind, you can see why the launch of the Double Down is such a momentous occasion. True American creativity, ingenuity, and passion all coming together between a thin paper wrapper on a red plastic tray. I like to imagine that the sandwich was invented in a smoke filled room full of scientists, much like the problem solving sequence from Apollo 13. Facing enormous pressure, the Colonel walks into this room, dumps out a box of ingredients, holds up the chickenbacon, and declares “Gentleman. We’ve got to find a way to get this [bacon], into the space meant for this [chicken], using nothing but that [whattheshitiscolonel’ssauce]. Get to work.”
The result is exactly what you think it is. The best description I’ve seen to date was from Adam Frucci of Gizmodo: “You see, it’s a sandwich, but instead of bread it uses fried fucking chicken.” I really can’t say it any better than that.
I was really excited to see it laid out before me, vainly wrapped in a thin sheet of wax paper. I took out the Nikon and started snapping away on macro mode, drawing a fair bit of attention for being the chicken photographing bag of douche in the corner. My antics drew the attention of Sean and Tim, UT students and fellow Downers who had also made the trek up to 2222 to stand in line and fork over $7 for the Colonel’s latest masterpiece. We talked shop for awhile, until they had also received their double D’s, and compared notes after the first bite.
“Fuck. That’s a lot of chicken”, was the general consensus, with follow up notes about the flavor:
-The Bacon. Pretty good, but standard fast-food, pre-microwaved bacon. Salty, thin, and somewhat crispy.
-The Cheese. Better than we expected, which was miles from gourmet, but within spitting distance of Velveeta.
-The Sauce. It’s got good flavor, but the end result depends on the quantity. I think mine was pretty perfect, but Tim’s looked like it was drowning.
-The Chicken. Awesome. Mine was actually crispy when served, and looked more like the advertised version than any fast food sandwich I’ve ever had.
-Presentation. Meh. I could eat mine, but others were so hot, they were near impossible to hold. At least for Texas markets, KFC should serve them with a flour tortilla. Not a “turns it into a burrito” type of flour tortilla, but a “use it like an edible pot holder” flour tortilla.
In general, it’s exactly what you think it is. If you’re the type who likes fried chicken, bacon, cheese and red mayonnaise, KFC has your number. If you thought it was disgusting to begin with, forcing one down your mouth hole in a restaurant that also serves as a Long John Silver’s isn’t likely to be a game changing experience for you.
Most of the media hullabaloo has focused on how “over the top” this sandwich is. Eating it in person made me think otherwise. In actuality, it’s little more than a McDonald’s Chicken Bacon Ranch sans bun plus chicken. The idea of using chicken as a bun is intriguing, but does two wimpy pieces of bacon and some condiments make it “gluttonous?” Hardly. The thing has less calories than a standard Big Mac, and had it been released more than 3 years ago, it would have simply been called “Atkins Friendly.” If we really want to get “gluttonous”, let’s get crazy with that shit. How about a Philly cheese steak with chicken buns? “Two all beef patties, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun?” Fuck what you’ve heard, let’s use chicken.
The point I’m trying to make is that it’s a great concept, but hardly the end-all-be-all of fast food ridiculousness. I personally thought KFC’s previous iteration of mashed potatoes+chicken+corn+cheese+gravy was more outlandish than this (not to mention that bowls have 140 more calories).
From a strictly marketing perspective, I’ve got to hand it to KFC and Yum! The test marketing strategy, followed by the internet buzz and media promotion made this one a winner before it ever left the gate. They were able to create an Apple-like event, where loyal fanboys stood outside their local store, clamoring to get the latest product and write about it on their blogs. What losers those people are.
djstar posted this on April 11th, 2010
Being that I’m the typical poor college student, these are the only 2 items in my fridge at the moment. There is actually one Lone Star Beer and 2 packets of ketchup from Whataburger but they didn’t make the photo. Since funds are tight right now, I haven’t been able to buy the other items that are necessary for a sandwich (bread, meat, cheese…). Best Maid pickles and Hellmann’s REAL Mayo are 2 vital ingredients for the Broke Student’s Sandwich. Let’s start with the pickles, who’s motto is “The Taste That Makes You Smile.” Cute, right? To hell with Vlasic, Best Maid gives you more sodium than your heart can handle..and its amazing. Moving onto mayo – the ONLY way to go is with the REAL stuff. Nevermind the ultimate fattiness of mayo, it is necessary for a successful sandwich. That’s all for now. Forgive me for the tease – I will go to H.E.B. soon enough. Xo, Dj*

Reid posted this on April 10th, 2010
In an effort to cleanse myself of the long night of taco smut, I headed to FoodHeads, the original mecca of sandwich innocence. “Gourmet” might be a word applied to a place with no less than 4 varieties of homemade mayo, and a cafe claiming such seriousness in sandwich could typically be avoided in a town of constant half-assed novelty (you hear me Lucky J’s?), but FoodHeads predates the latest wave of Californians and has an honest devotion to sandwich purity. Maintaining the sanctity of bread-and-filling union, this is the place for those looking for more than the one night taco stands.
And true to form, I am quickly served up a sandwich of roasted leg of lamb between grilled ciabata, stacked with grilled eggplant, feta cheese, cucumber mayo, lettuce and tomato, all arranged with devoted accuracy.

Reid posted this on April 9th, 2010
As much as this site hides under the romantic idealism of sandwich true love, there will always exist that raw, carnal hunger that underlies whatever thin veneer of gourmet mustards and obscure cured meats we attempt to label as sandwich harmony. We hide behind our fancy olive loafs and aged cheddars, but between those paved deli streets of love lie the dark back alleys of lust, the deep hidden acknowledgement that the greased-over burger is a sandwich, that those New York dirty water dogs do fulfill that sandwich need, fulfill it in ways no fluffed-ham-on-seeded-bread ever could.
Ramble on as I might try, it could never be summed up with such guilty pleasure as Tony’s book, T&T&A. The latter ‘T&A’ means tits and ass. The first T means tacos. Tacos and Tits and Ass. Yeap, a coffee table book filled with full page photos of the taco-next-door laid bare to the world, as intimate and candid as that trailer taco ever could be. And then just as many pictures of naked chicks. Al pastor with glistening pineapple chunks and a doe-eyed ebony pulling down her studded bikini? Pages 34 and 35, respectively.

Tony could have kept it classy. Food and sex are old time favorites, cliche in too many forms. But the tacos are the greasy laundromat types, pure trips of indulgence, those tacos that catch your eye and make your mouth water, all the time knowing you should resist, that as much fun as that taco may be, it’s ultimately trouble. The taco your mother always told you about, the type of taco that is going to leave you with a weight on your shoulders and lasting regret despite the few moments of total bliss.
And then most of the girls are from Fresno, so there’s that.
Domy Books was having a signing, and I met with Tony, the author, and Meagan, one of the models (she’s signed the photo of her looking back over a shoulder as she removes a sequined evening gown, opposite pescado tacos on red corn tortillas with a jalapeno aioli). Meagan seemed entirely uninterested in the taco aspect, but quite proud of her and the other girls. Tony admitted having taken almost all the taco photos over the course of a day, something like 45 different taco vendors and a rental car that he could barely return. “This was just something I slapped together.”
But it worked, I guess. The division blurs, lessening distinction between the hungers. I also can’t look at guacamole quite the same.
Grab a copy here.
Huisman posted this on April 7th, 2010
I had planned to spend the late afternoon having a picnic at the Conservancy in Central Park with my aunt. And by aunt I mean my mom’s best friend from childhood and coincidentally my sister’s godmother. For simplicity’s sake, I shall refer to her from here on out as Mrs. Peacock.
After picking up an organic multi-grain baguette, a brick of Cotswold cheese, and a cheap screw-top bottle of wine from the Whole Foods on 99th and Columbus Avenue, we headed for the park. But as Mrs. Peacock and I arrived at the Conservancy with the baguette we were informed that it would be closing in 10 minutes. I snapped a few photos of the blooming Magnolia trees before we settled on a rock overlooking the Harlem Meer.
When I returned home later that evening, famished from the day’s reporting and the bottle of wine, I dug into my backpack looking for the day’s leftovers. I added a slice of Boar’s Head from the fridge and rounded it out with some Kettle jalapeño chips.
The best part of the sandwich is definitely the Cotswold, made of cow’s milk, onions and chives, it gives the sandwich a distinct tangy taste.


Huisman posted this on March 29th, 2010
After having one story I was reporting on fall through I hitched a ride with a couple of ladies to Coney Island in the back of a red Volkswagon Beetle. On their way to interview a gun-toting, fur-wearing, jaguar-driving mortician they dropped me off at Nathan’s Famous, home of the Original Frankfurter.
Since this was my first time I ordered the Original, unbeknown to me that it was simply a plain dog on a bun. And for $3.45? What the hell. I must admit the hot dog was delicious. Had it been a sunny day I would have enjoyed my tube steak on the wood boardwalk with the screams from the Coney Island Cyclone in the background.
As I devoured my dog I received a call from my day editor who had informed me that a building collapsed in Williamsburg. I called my colleagues and we sped off to report the story. Read it here….



Reid posted this on March 25th, 2010

Any Burger with boudin mixed in pushes the bounds of sandwich convention, and that I can get behind. The ridiculous prices are masked by the sweet felon charm of the busy cooks, and several rules are quickly laid out:
-First time: discount
-Walk here: discount
-Bike here: discount
-Live on the eastside: discount
-Grab a beer at the gas station next door and stick around
The labyrinth menu and obsessively proud chefs stir up a desire to pull out a loan and take a day off, eating to an altered state of fried delusions.
And they even deliver.
yourmoms.net
Reid posted this on March 23rd, 2010

Habanero chili cheeseburger, La Sabrazito Salsa, $1 High Life, and the generous pours of whiskey from Brendan the best bartender in town.
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