Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Double Down.
No sandwich has ever turned this nation on its head like the Double Down has in its short lifespan. The Double Down had its coming-out party on April 12, and last week you couldn’t watch anything without hearing about it.
You’d absentmindedly sit through commercials and see an ad for the Double Down, complete with male Neanderthals saying they don’t get enough chicken. (On a side note: Isn’t KFC’s slogan stupid? “Unthink”? Unthink what? Are you telling me not to think about eating your chicken because then I’ll realize it’s not good? I think KFC is good, but this slogan is idiotic.)
You’d innocently watch an episode of WWE Monday Night Raw and notice that the KFC Double Down sandwich is sponsoring the next pay-per-view, WWE Extreme Rules. (It’s Sunday night. Go to Buffalo Wild Wings on the Strip, and watch it with us! Edge versus Chris Jericho in a cage, how can you miss it?) And yes, you read that right. KFC isn’t sponsoring the event. Specifically the KFC Double Down sandwich is. Has that ever happened in the history of promotions?
Well all I knew is that I needed to try this sandwich that doesn’t think it needs bread. This sandwich that feels it’s important enough to sponsor entire wrestling pay-per-views on its own, without the backing of the rest of the KFC franchise.
It felt like a myth at first. I first heard about the Double Down when reading The Onion’s sister site, a serious and quite excellent entertainment website called The AV Club. There was an article months ago about a sandwich that was being tested in a few states called the Double Down, which discarded bread and was made of two chicken filets, with pepperjack cheese and bacon in between.
Nearly everyone who talked of the sandwich used baffled and condescending terms when describing it, equating it to a culinary coronary. I thought of it more like the fast-food Bigfoot — something that people need to see in order to believe it exists. I was just as surprised as anyone when it was announced to go national. I figured it would fail, but just like all great underdog stories (and just like John Cena), the Double Down overcame the odds.
As a man who enjoys his chicken, specifically Guthrie’s variety, I was very interested in trying it. Plus it sounded good. I really like chicken, and the idea of eating two chicken filets at the same time was not disagreeable. In fact, I didn’t understand why some people grew nauseous at the thought of it — people who would normally be fine eating KFC. It’s just a sandwich without the bread; none of the ingredients are different.
It was these unfounded ill feelings that delayed my experience of the Double Down for awhile. I asked friend after friend in the first week and got shot down, until finally I ventured out on Saturday night to try the sandwich that was changing the face of the fast-food world.
At first I thought God didn’t want me to eat the sandwich. My friends and I went to the KFC on Chapman Highway, which closes at 9 p.m., just a few minutes too late. But we were so dedicated to the cause that we ventured out to the Western Avenue KFC. When our party saw the sign in the distance, we exhaled in relief, smiles falling like rain across our faces.
Our first question to the attendant on duty at the restaurant: “Do you have the Double Down?” She nodded solemnly, and our faces lit up. It was REALLY going to happen. We were REALLY going to get to eat it.
When it was my turn in line, I grew serious and ordered the Double Down combo, choosing potato wedges as my side. I decided for the fried side of KFC, since a grilled Double Down seemed too slimy for my hands, like holding a dead fish. The cash register ran up about $8, and I thought that was a bit steep but worth it for the experience.
The service was expedient — these professionals clearly knew what they were doing — and it was time to sit and dig in.
So how was the Double Down? I guess you’ll have to try it to find out.