An American Odyssey, Part 4: The Road To Utah

The Road to Utah, 3,064 miles. Relentlessly we drove, sometimes not seeing a KFC for hours at a time. For endless days we strived to reach our goal. Crossing the great desserts of Colorado, journeying through the Badlands of South Dakota, traversing the barren wastes of Wyoming and braving the beautiful but treacherous wilds of Yellowstone.

This leg of the journey would see us enjoying KFC's in a further 9 states. We would encounter new menu items, visit one of humaity's most impressive achievements, be duped, find some KFC curios and end on a high when seeing evidence that our allies were active in this area of the USA, far from the liberal coastal areas.

The journey began and we took in as many branches as possible along the way. The first 2000 miles melted away uneventfully although our car was beginning to smell a little like a rotisserie.

One branch in Oklahoma state offered an interesting menu item seen nowhere else and sadly not one I was prepared to try: Kentucky Fried Chicken Livers. Instead I opted for the $3.99 original recipe strips deal which was a welcome treat after hours at the wheel.

The highlight of the journey was in South Dakota. Until 1980 this was a quiet little backwater with one small attraction known as Mount Rushmore. During the 1940's this mountain was transformed by the carving of the likenesses of four previous president's into its south face. This first picture shows the mountain as it existed up until 1980. It attracted only a small trickle of visitors and did little for South Dakota's tourism industry. In 1980 all of that was about to change.

In the December of that year Colonel Harland Sanders passed away and was lost to us forever. A week of official mourning was declared in many countries around the world and what looks like a small blip, actually representing a large drop in the world's GDP can be seen to this day on financial graphs of the period. Following the death of the Colonel an idea first muted by the press was seized upon by congress and gained much public support. Fedral funding was to match public donations which poured in firstly in their millions but soon in their hundreds of millions from not just Americans but from people all around the world.

The plan was to replace one of the busts carved into Mt Rushmore with a likeness of the Colonel and rename it Mt Sanders. By public concensus it was decided to replace the image of President Abraham Lincoln. He was an obscure choice when the mountain was carved, and having achieved little during his time in office it was decided he should stand aside. It was originally planned to be like the other carvings, but with so much money available and with the advent of new technology and carving techniques it was decided to make the Colonels likeness larger and to carve it in full colour. Something never before done. The result: an overwhelming success, with visitors flocking there in their millions.

From here, things took a turn for the worse. A low point was Cody, Wyoming. Whilst working my way through the menu I stopped upon this monstrosity: The Honey Barbecue Chicken Sandwich.

Shredded chicken absolutely smothered in honey barbecue sauce. No lettuce, no cheese, in fact absolutely no ancillary items whatsoever. Is this KFC USA's worst product!

At the same branch another of our missionaries was suffering from the drinking sickness and had speculated about not eating chicken at this particular juncture. Roused by the threat of Harland's wrath he succumbed to the original recipe, a moment gloriously captured on film.

We continued our journey, crossing Wyoming to the town of West Yellowstone, Montana. At first everything appeared normal, quaint in fact. From the outside this branch promised a lot, spinning bucket on a pole, and this exceedingly rare example of classic wooden signage featuring the Colonel sporting a fetching cowboy hat.

Maybe it had been left alone here in the wilderness for too long and had gone mad, for the inside was a hideous nightmare. Tired and tatty decor, staff with no uniforms and an abomination on the menu.

Again what I thought was a new product. . . . Kentucky Nuggets were on the menu. I ordered them, eager to try yet another of the Colonel's many facets and was greeted with a nugget of such poor quality that I doubt even McDonald's would sell it. Concensus ruled that this was not an official KFC product, this was made using chopped and shaped Chicken maybe even MRM. I've heard of fake designer clothing but I never though I'd see the day when I would be duped into eating fake KFC.

I determined to research this and discovered that the real Kentucky Nugget was discontinued in 1996 a whole 13 years before I encountered it in Montana. (However as I go to press new evidence has emerged of a relaunch.)

West Yellowstone had one more surprise in store for us however. Here we were away from the populated coastal areas that pander to faddists. Here in Montana there were no vegan supermarkets. People in this part of the world want meat and a resistance movement has sprung up to counter the threat of those who believe that animals are "not ours to use for food". We here at KFB disagree as did our friends in Montana who've formed a rival organisation of their own and are even selling merchendise.

Knowing we were in friendly territory, we set off on our way to Salt Lake. . . . where it all began.

An American Odyssey, Part 3: Kentucky

Kentucky, we had arrived. Our trip to Louisville was one more stop on our Chicken Hajj. The trip that the colonel expects us all to make once in our lives.

Kentucky as a state holds a number of important religious sites, notably Corbin, where Harland ran his gas station and restaurant 'Sanders' Court' and of course where he developed the recipe. And Louisville, home of some some more sombre relics, the Colonel's grave at Cave Hill Cemetery, world HQ for Yum brands, Don Decker and the Louisville Visitors Centre KFC Experience. Contrary to popular belief however, Kentucky was not home to the World's first branch of KFC, that much coveted honour goes to Utah.

Our trip to Kentucky was sadly not taking us to Corbin which as you can see from the map is quite some distance from Louisville. Today Corbin hosts a small museum at the place where it all started.

We arrived in Louisville at roughly 4.30pm on what was a hot and sunny afternoon on Saturday 13th September 2008.

We entered the city along the thoroughfare of Baxter avenue, bringing us right to the Baxter Ave/ Bardstown Rd branch which was a fine example of a new restaurant that would be seeing our patronage the following day. More importantly however Baxter avenue took us right past Cave Hill Cemetery, the final resting place of our lord Sanders. (before the Resurrection)

As we arrived at the gates they were being locked for the day and there was little we could say and resolved to visit the grave the following day.

We wondered around in down town Louisville and I saw Colonel Don Decker, Harland Sanders impersonator extraordinaire available for weddings, christenings and Bar Mitzvahs who also happens to ply his trade on weekend evenings at 4th Street live, the epicentre of Louisville's chicken fuelled night life.

The following day we awoke, checked out of our fine motel and went to the Louisville Visitor Centre KFC Experience featuring wall displays, glass cabinets containing relics such as an original pressure fryer, an authentic white suit and other paraphernalia. There was a life size model of the Colonel with which to be photographed. There was an electronic touch screen quiz (100% needless to say), and my favourite, a telephone which when you lifted the receiver relayed to your ears the sweetest sound you ever did hear, a voice from beyond the grave, a selection of the inimitable wit and wisdom from the mouth of Harland.

When we left the experience (having purchased one of every KFC themed item from the gift shop) the wind outside had picked up noticeably and it continued to get worse. As we drove towards the cemetery our car was struck by a flying branch. Getting closer still there was near gridlock, power lines was down, lights were out and branches and even whole trees littered the roads and sidewalks crushing houses in their wake.

It was these treacherous conditions that the city authorities deemed so dangerous as to warrant the closure of Cave Hill Cemetery on safety grounds and so our visit to the grave of the Colonel was denied by the tail end of Hurricane Ike.

We retreated to lick our wounds to the nearby branch. For some reason the staff in there thought flying 3000 miles then driving a further 2000 to visit the grave of a man who you've never met but happens to cook tasty chicken was a crazy thing to do. Go figure.

Nevertheless the experience was a great one. We were the last people allowed into the darkened branch. With no power, no chicken was being cooked. We ate the last chicken in the place and had maybe the worlds first KFC lock in as the staff busied themselves with cleaning. They did however deign to dine with us. In these magical moments it seemed that the Colonel had seen our plight and intervened to make sure that Kentucky offered us a true taste of its soul food.

Forgive me Harland for I Have Sinned

As the large congregation finished the final hymn, California Soul by Marlena Shaw we began moving forward ready to take the Eucharist. As I reached the head of the queue I struggled to look Father Doyle in the eye. I knew that in about 20 minutes time he'd be hearing my confession.

As I opened my mouth he placed a succulent piece of Popcorn Chicken on my tongue which I washed down with a sip of Gravy from the Prayer Bucket. For a few glorious seconds my soul was clean as the recipe coursed through my veins. Then I was back in the middle of a Sunday service at the 5th Chickentarian Church of Stone. It was a traditional church with the spire representing the Chicken's neck and head and the two wings representing, well, the wings. It often amazed my how much of our religious lexicon had pervaded everyday language but it was uplifting to be reminded of the Colonel during everyday conversations. For example, a bucket now was a common word for a rigid bag. A colonel is a very high military rank, and the list could go on.

My sense of dread came back to me as we genuflected for the lords prayer:

Our Harland Who Art In Heaven
Shallow Fried Be Thy Name
Thy Chicken Come
It Will Be Eaten
On Earth As It Is In Heaven
Give Us This Day Our Daily Zing
And Forgive Us Our Subways
As We Forgive Those Who Visit burger king
And Lead Us Not Into mc donald's
But Deliver Us Some Chicken
For Thine Is The Recipe With 11 Secret Herbs & Spices For Ever & Ever

Chick-en

Following the service there were about 10 of us loitering near the confessional. I thought again about the sermon which had had an Easter theme. Father Doyle explained why symbolically we ate chocolate eggs at easter as they represented the Chicken we all love so dearly. It should be broken into a symbolic nine pieces to represent the nine different cuts that Harland had decreed should come from the bird.

I moved forward as a lady left the confessional in floods of tears but I was still a few places from the front. By now my mind was swimming and I began to think about all the stories I had learnt in Sunday School 20 years ago. I learnt about how Harland had perfected the recipe in 7 days and the feeding of the 5000 from only one Bucket of Chicken. In another story Harland had thrown all the imitation Fried Chicken vendors from the malls in disgust.

By now I had moved up a couple of places and had begun remembering the more sinister stories we had been told as we got older.

Harland had lost his only son in an automobile wreck so that we could enjoy the recipe and that later on he was betrayed by his disciple Tim. I always thought that the most exciting times were the Chicken wars that had taken place in Eastern Europe. In Sunday School they'd told us that when they got the recipe over there it translated as "Kentucky Fried Poultry" two groups sprang up, those who thought it should be made using Chicken and those who thought Turkey. Many countries in the region had related names Turkey and Turkmenistan fervently believed the recipe should be made using Turkey. Greece and Cro(w)atia believed Chicken whilst Hungary and Eg(g)ypt often changed allegience.

The saddest tales had been of prohibition, imagine four whole years without KFC? People during this time would mix up illegal batches of spices in their bathtubs, some of which proved to be lethal. Ruthless gangsters such as Al Caponthebone ran eateasies ,but thankfully, finally the world came to its senses and the industry rapidly sprang back to life using the one good thing to come from this period. To hide the rancid taste of many recipe attempts Chicken cocktails were invented and Zing was born, it has been a favourite ever since.

By now it was my turn to enter the confessional. I silently repeated the Hail Harland:

Hail Harland
Full Of Taste
The Lord Eats With Thee
Blessed Are Thou Amongst Poultry
And Blessed Is The Food
Of Thy Dining Room
Father Of The Recipe
Pray For Us Eaters Now
And At The Hour Of Our Coronary

Chick-en

"Forgive me father for I have sinned. I have forsaken the Zinger Tower on a number of occasions now and had the Blazin' Boxmaster instead"

"And why have you done this my child?"

"Well Father, it's the Blazin'. I had to try it once like you told us so that we can understand all of Harlands good work, but the Blazin' Father, it's just so good."

"Tell me about this Blaze" he said emphasising the word blaze with obvious contempt for it.

"Well father, the Zing is still there but the Jalapeno Mayo that makes the Blazin' is just so spicy and good."

"Jalapeno Mayo?" he said desperately before he seemed to have an epiphany "Oh my Harland, I was wrong, forgive me. Only now has the prophecy been fulfilled. Don't you see? Harland said 'I will give you the spice of life', it is in the scriptures. I always thought he meant Zing."

"Father are you OK?"

"Don't you see. . . . . The Spice Of Life! Jalapeno is the spice and the mayo made with eggs is the life, eggs, dont you see? The prophecy has been fulfilled." Suddenly he fled the confessional and his words trailed off. All I heard as he ran from the building was "Do not worry child you have not sinned, I must go to Kentucky to see the Popultry. . . . . "

And with that he was gone.

Obituary

It is with a heavy heart and great sadness that I write this. Stafford's Greyfriars KFC closed its doors for the last time after a short illness in mid February. This magnificent edifice, a shining example of early post Colonesque architecture now stands forlornly at Stafford's Northern fringe. The Restaurant was one of the 38% of company owned venues and had been a stalwart of the the Staffordshire fast food scene since the 80s.

The restaurant had been bypassed by the recent refurbishment programme that has breathed new life into many branches and initial reports upon the closure suggested Greyfriars branch was being remodelled in line with the parent company's 2006 diktat. There was palpable excitement indeed at the prospect of a refurb. The sign on the door however for those that bothered to read it exclaimed otherwise 'This Branch is now closed'.


Stafford witnessed an outpouring of grief unprecedented in its 1000 year history, local flower shops were inundated with orders and many shut their doors early with nothing left to sell. Patricia Boynes, proprietor of one town centre flower vendor said

"Of course I was shocked like everybody else, I sold out in hours but saved a £150 bouquet and laid it myself, One guy came in here and spent over £1000, it's a tragedy for Stafford and a tragedy for the country as a whole."

The Greyfriars branch closure was also surprising due to its rumoured status as a regional hub. It's unusual two floor design held substantial office space which was presumably used by the firm. What will happen to the building remains to be seen, but local firm Tushingham Moore are handling the transition period. It was this unusual two story design which attracted Unesco, who are now considering making it a world heritage site as one of the finest examples of early post colonelesque architechture in the country its transmogrification into another business therefore could be slow.

The story of its demise was recounted to me by a worker moved from the Greyfriars branch to Stafford's young pretender the Hough Retail Park Branch(HRPB). Apparently the lack of a drive through facility at Greyfriars was the death knell and was enough the spur customers on a further 1.7 miles so as not to have to leave their car. There is a worry that the move may be premature. With the HRPB only trading since November, has it been long enough to accurately formulate a business model based on the seasons critics of the closure are asking. The Greyfriars branch came into it's element during the summer months when families would flock to its patio seating area to watch enthralled as the traffic roared past them on the busy A34, a fond memory that many Staffordians will hold dearly on to.

Other fond memories are of the winter wonderland that the staff went out of their way to prepare at the the Greyfriars branch. Each year a fake Christmas tree was festooned with all manner of product wrappers lovingly fashioned into Colonel themed decorations. From freshen up wipes to Popcorn Chicken boxes, nothing was left out in the pursuit of a perfect Chickeny Christmas and the neighbourhood children loved it as one elderly local resident recalls.

"If you lived round here you always just knew when KFC had decorated their tree, there was a feeling in the air, people suddenly seemed happier it lifted everyones mood and to see the children so happy, It was as if the Colonel himself had been here"

Another wonderful feature (for me at least) of this branch which was my local was the lack of disabled parking. I was able to park right by the door thus speeding up my overall journey time from home to branch. Stafford was also noted for the extremely high quality of its gravy, some of the best 3 step I have ever encountered was served to me at this branch. This would have been a prime candidate for a gravy centre of excellence. The Colonel himself was very particular with regard to the gravy,noting in his book:

"with me gravy is a mighty important thing. Most of it I see in restaurants today ain't fit for my dogs"

As Chaucher pointed out to us though

"all good things must come to an end"

but i didn't think the same proverb applied to great things too.

Rest In Poultry
1980s - 2009

An American Odyssey, Part 2: Deliverance

The Engine of our 1.4litre Chevrolet Cobalt neither roared nor purred but occasionally if you put your foot down it could be made to meow. When Leaving Washington DC we decided to take scenic route 50. After four hours we were beginning to regret it, we were deep in the Appalachian mountains and it looked like we somewhere close to where the events described in the book Deliverance occurred.

Unlike the America we see on the television this wasn't the land of rampant consumerism, businesses seemed few and far between let alone billboards which were thus, offering only accusation and damnation.



I hoped beyond hope to see something like this:


But it never came and after 8 hours of driving it was getting dark, we were tired, hungry and I was getting worried about running out of gas.








Just then. . . . something that seemed insignificant happened, we passed over the state border, leaving plain old Virginia for 'Wild & Wonderful' West Virginia, and wonderful it turned out to be

Dont just take my word for it, ask this chap:

John Denver is thought of as one West Virginia,s greatest advocates, but that is a fallacy. His famous song 'Country Roads'' had its original chorus altered at the behest of a tyrannical record executive insistent that the track appeal to a wider demographic. When I interviewed a bitter John regarding the whole unfortunate incident he told me:

"I was just a country kid back then, I knew what I loved and that was chicken, so I wrote a song 'bout it. I just figured back then that if I got that record deal and made me a stack o' money, that I'd be able to get me as much of that finger licking chicken as possible. And yeah it paid off, I've eaten me a whole lotta chicken since that day. When Harland died I realised I'd never had the chance to say sorry for turning my back on the man who was like a father to me. Well thems was real hard times. I don't know what I'd have done if I didn't have chicken at that time, I'm not even sure if I'd still be here. I musta eaten me damn near a thousan' buckets, Sad days man, sad days."

John agreed to let me have a copy of the original lyrics (in red) as opposed to the filth that was released (in blue.)

Country roads, take me home
To the place, I be-long
West virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads

Country roads, take me there
To the Chicken, I adore
Colonel Sanders, Chicken Popa
Cookin' Chicken, on the bone

It was this story that made finding a KFC in Grafton in the back waters of West Virginia so magical. Nestled as you can see amidst dense forest on route 50 as it langurously winds it's way across the country Grafton KFC reached out of the darkness like a reverse chicken lighthouse drawing modern day land mariners towards its enchanting warm glow.
And what a KFC it was, this was the paradigm, the bar against which others should be judged. This wasn't just a fast food chicken restaurant it was a dining experience. Pictures of the local football team adorned the walls, charity was prevelant but not intrusive, there were tasteful Haloween decorations (perhaps slightly premature) and many homely touches. A cruet set for example adorned each and every spotlessly clean table and there were mints along with the other condiments. Why anyone would want to purge their mouth of the flavour is beyond me but I appreciated the gesture.

Our Hostess, for that I what I would call her was knowledgable, helpful and understanding to the point of perfection. She could knock a few of those big city branches into line I thought to myself. And the food? well this was my introduction to the 'Plated Meal' Original recipe strips (great) a side of mashed potato and gravy, (good) soda (standard) and the curious american 'biscuit'. This was something akin to a plain scone which one can cover with the contents of a sachet of the Colonel's buttery spread (not to my taste).

And so we ate, said our goodbyes and went on our way into the night,revived not just by the food, but by the thought that tomorrow we'd be in the promised land. . . . Kentucky.

Coming Soon. . . . An American Odyssey Special Report~:Kentucky

An American Odyssey, Part 1: The Eastern Seaboard

Our flight landed at roughly 3 in the afternoon, we had touched down in United States of America. Land of the Recipe & Home of the Chicken.

The itinerary of the trip had been planned specifically to take in some of KFC's most ancient temples and revered monuments and relics. Along the way we planned was to seek refuge and revictualing in any of Harland's houses that we passed. Little did we expect to be so rigorously tested in the first three days.

Boston, our first port of call suffers a dearth of KFCs, we passed none during our idle wanderings around the city and resolved to use electronic means. But Google was a false prophet merely leading us astray. We walked for an hour towards what we thought was our goal but there was no chicken in sight. Defeated, we retreated to the scant comforts of base camp before the following day's outing to Salem, would this offer up the prize we strove for?

Salem is of course famous for its witch trials in 1692 in which 19 people were put to death. Had Harland Sanders been one of the pilgrim fathers and introduced his recipe at about this time the world would be a very different place indeed. I am sure that he would have been accused of black magic (for I think that the unearthly tastiness of the secret recipe is a mystery that even modern day science will never explain) but I have no doubt it would have been embraced and the USA we know today would have a distinctly different 3 letter acronym for its name!

Salem though yielded a blank and we were forced to seek pastures new on Manhattan island where our patience was rewarded as soon as we alighted from our coach by a KFC at Penn Station and my first foray into the world of The Famous Bowl.



This dish has been described by blogger Louis Fowler as

"One of the most delicious concoctions man has ever come up with"

Imagine, creamy mashed potato, rich and thick chicken gravy, sweetcorn kernels, crisp Popcorn Chicken and 3 types of grated cheese. It was good, not that I'd go as far as Louis but this was just my first foray into an exciting and exotic foreign menu.

Manhattan's KFCs however were not competition standard. Given that not many tourists make it away from major cities on the US' East Coast it seems a shame to leave them with such a poor memory of one of the US' best loved exports. Seating areas were graffitied, dips were out of stock and air conditioners dripped ice cold water onto the faithful below. We were still a long way from Kentucky though and I knew things would improve.

Whilst Philidelphia yielded no KFC, Washington DC offered a fine establisment boasting both KFC and TacoBell under the same roof a phenomenon seldom seen but that I have been lucky enough to witnessed also in Australia and Canada.

To ability to mix and match from the two menus really adds an entire new dimension to the whole dining experience.




What Washington DC also introduced to us was KFCs rival: Popeyes Chicken. A chain that worryingly commands the kind of fan loyalty seen below.


Sun Tsu in his two thousand year old tome 'The art of war' told us to

"Know your enemy"

and Popeyes in terms of food quality appeared to be a formidable opponent.




.

What both the Capital and arguably the US' most important city were lacking was a flagship store on a par with London's Leicester square branch, nothing it appeared thus far was up to competion standard.

From here however our journey began across country through the Virginias towards the greasy heart of chicken country.

Coming Soon. . . . Part 2 The Road to Louisville

Ray Allen. . . . Saint, or Sinner

We here in the United Kingdom have much to thank Ray Allen for, we also have a lot of reasons to hate him. Ray was the visionary responsible for bringing KFC here to the UK in 1965, a whole nine years prior to the arrival of Ronald McDonald and his burger pedaling cronies.

Following meetings with Harland in 1963 Ray was able to open the UK's first KFC ,in Preston ,in May 1965. Back then Preston was a small town in North West England. It seems a strange choice, but here Allen was on home turf and due to his catering background throughout the 1950s he thought that the good people of Preston were ready for this taste sensation. He was not wrong. Still trading today at 92 Fishergate, Preston, Lancashire, the store is testament to Allen's early successes.

RISE TO GLORY

The Colonel is in fact rumoured to have visited Preston to oversee the overseas expansion of his empire in its nascent stages. Rumour though is all it seems to be for there is no substantiating evidence to be found, not even in Preston. Nor does the colonel mention ever having visited in his autobiography giving the country only a fleeting mention.

Ray Allen undoubtedly did some good work in the early days, expanding the UK KFC operation to some 250 outlets. In fact he himself climbed so far up the greasy pole that he too was made a Kentucky Colonel Just like Harland by the then Kentucky Governor Edward Breathill.

THE GRAVY THICKENS

Nobody knows exactly when it happened, or how it happened but it has since become apparent that Ray Allen turned his back on the Colonel's guidence and benevolence before finally sticking the knife in. The Colonel, wiser than us, may have seen this treachery afoot as early as 1974. In his autobigraphy published in that year he gives scant mention to England and does not mention Ray Allen's name. Surely a man whose franchise business had just begun to operate on a whole new continent would have something more to say about this? But no, compared to the Colonel's good friend and first American franchisee Pete Harman, who's mentioned regularly throughout the book, Allen is a ghost.

What other evidence is there to suggest that Allen dropped the ball, deliberately or otherwise? Most damning of all is the squandering of a 9 year head start that Allen had over the rival McDonalds chain which went onto dominate the UK fast food scene. Surely Allen would have only let this happen if he had designs on his own fried chicken empire?

ALLEN MAKES HIS PLAY

With the dawning of the 90s, some 25 years after bringing KFC to the people of the UK Allen decided that,

"The UK market would appreciate a home grown original fried chicken"

which having developed

"Their very own secret recipe fried chicken"

they brought to the market in the form of Allens Fried Chicken.

KFC's response it seems has been expunge Allen from the record. The official UK website simply states the facts before moving swiftly on witn no mention of Ray Allen's involvement. Not the actions of a company proud of their affiliations. If the Colonel had had his way Allen's treachery would be all but forgotten were it not for the actions of Allen's themselves, in what appears to be a to be a ploy by the fledgling franchise to trade off the Colonel's good name. Below is a picture of the box lid that adorns all Allen's packaging. Read it for yourself, look at the pictures, and ask yourself why they feel they need such as strong disclaimer at the bottom there.

Allen's it seems, after about 15 years of trading has failed to leave the north west and who can blame them when the chain gets reviews like these below from real diners posting their thoughts on the website www.trustedplaces.com

Don't bother

Alans fried chicken is a mistake which I think everyone makes once, and will never make again. I hope by reading this you save yourself from a waste of time and money. The food is standard, and what you expect when you go into this style of eatery but the staff are rude and rubbish and tried to short change me and then blame it on myself – not a good start. The food is greasy but sometimes that’s what you need but for the treatment I got I would not go again. A friend also went and some other customers thought he was going to have the last piece of chicken so they threatened to pull a knife on him. I do not blame the Alans chicken staff for this but I blame them for not doing anything and for not asking them to leave when my friend was in obvious distress.

Followed by the more comedic and scathing review:

Quantum Physics and fried chicken

At a fast food restaurant i do not expect to receive gourmet food or gourmet service. What i do expect is quick, simple, properly cooked food for a reasonable price. If i have any issues i expect them to be given due consideration. I got neither from my one and never-to-be-repeated trip to Allen's Fried Chicken on Oxford Road close to St Peter's Square.

After ordering a chicken fillet burger meal i sat down to eat my food. When i found a deep-fried mosquito-type fly in my chips my appetite escaped me. I returned to the counter and asked politely for a refund on my barely touched meal. The response i received was simply astounding; The fly was "my responsibility" and must have flown into the restaurant and landed on my chips (somehow deep frying itself in the process). I was told "once food passes over the counter it was no longer his problem". I was further told if the fly had been on the chips when i had bought them "i should have noticed it and said something straight away". I am alas getting older now, and am no longer able to see through the paper bags that hold the meal and the chips themselves.

My repeated request for a full refund (a quite considerable £4.10) was absolutely not possible-the "manager" assured me the till could not perform this task - i can only imagine what trails you must conquer to attain change from this machine's obviously unwilling bowels..?! After asking the "manager" for his name - as i now wished to make a formal complaint against him - he suddenly went tongue tied, turned out the restaurant's lights, pulled down the shutters and demanded that my friend and I leave as they were now closing (this despite another couple in the corner of the restaurant who were not asked to leave-presumably Allen's have exclusive "lock-in's" with select customers...) i wonder if their opening hours will remain at the new 9.40pm closing time or mysteriously revert back to a later "catch the pub-leavers-going-home" business...?

I have been left with not only a sour taste in my mouth but also the theological question of "just how drunk will i have to be before i forget my experience and happily accept assorted diptera in my food again"...? a quandary indeed. If i ever crack that, bring on quantum physics...


And so we finish this story back where we started it, in Preston where the Lancashire Evening Post reports that the people have chosen their hero, opting to adopt Colonel Harland Sanders to adorn their city over local lad and chicken traitor Ray Allen.



A finger lickin' First for the city

Published Date 30/10/08
By Emma Broom

He's the face that launched a world famous secret-recipe and now Colonel Harland Sander the man synonymous with Kentucky Fried Chicken is in line for his own treat. A lasting tribute to the man behind the fast food brand, possibly in the form of a bronze bust has been included in plans for a heritage art trail in Preston.