For three weeks I fought an urge for a chicken sandwich. Specifically, a spicy fried chicken sandwich, like a buffalo chicken sandwich or maybe a Nashville Hot. But, I staved off this urge because, well, fried chicken sandwiches aren’t exactly a prime part of a healthy diet.
During that third week, I was often driving a between Pittsburgh, Watkins Glen, NY and Coudersport, PA. I stopped at a LOT of Sheetz for gas, sustenance, and “relief”. I was on the verge of cracking. I was no longer looking for an incredible fried chicken sandwich. I was looking for ANY fried chicken sandwich to rid me of that nagging yen I had. So, when I started hitting buttons in the Sheetz self-serve kiosk, I knew I was looking not for GREAT, but for “Good Enough”. Anyway, three different Sheetz did not have any fried chicken. I was disappointed.
That disappoint lingered until the end of week three when I stopped at a Get-Go. I started hitting buttons on their self-serve kiosk and was delighted to find a Nashville Hot Chicken Sandwich on the menu! About 15 minutes later, they gave me my sandwich and I gleefully headed for the truck.
I opened the box and dove in for that first bite. Instantaneously, the saddest chicken tender I’ve ever seen fell out of the bun and into the box. It was frail, and tiny and thin as a crepe. I picked it up and put it back I the bun, right beside its tiny twin.
The second first bit attempt was successful – Assuming we define “Success” as getting a bite into my mouth. Those two tiny highly processed chicken tenders barely covered the bun and had no chicken like texture to them. The bun was sweet as a donut. The sauce was neither hot nor Nashville-y. Tis a sad day when the best part of a fried chicken sandwich are a the few slices of run of the mill dill pickle topping it.
Two bites and I was done. I put the sad sandwich was put back in the bag and I drove off. I was embarrassed by its presence, so I stopped at a car wash in New Bethlehem to drop it into a trash can.
I mean, I know I was at Get Go, so I wasn’t expecting Gourmet, but this sandwich rung such a disappointing note. So disappointing that it ruined my afternoon. It was so un-good that I was further saddened when I thought about it twice the following day.
Okay, I’ll admit that I was stupid of me to expect a respectable chicken sandwich from a gas station, but, It’s Get Go. It’s part of a regional grocery empire that supposedly prides itself on good groceries. So, someone sat in a board room or a test kitchen, took a bite of this sandwich and said, “Yeah, I approve selling this salty sandwich with two tiny pieces of lousy chicken to dorks with no palate for $8.99. Ya want mozzarella sticks with that? “
Ugh. I still need a chicken sandwich.