Remembering the Double-Down

Last night I had an epiphany. It finally hit me that in the middle of May, I am going to be boarding a plane and heading to Florida for two weeks. This, in itself, is great. Despite basically being one giant freckle, I enjoy sunbathing as much as the rest of 'em. I like sitting by the beach and reading millions of books and watching all the fat old women trying to discretely remove sand from the gussets of their all-in-ones. I like ice lollies. I like the nice big wide roads, and I would even go so far as to say I don't even mind getting sunburnt, because I'm on holiday- and that's what's supposed to happen. 

All that is great. Lovely. Can't wait. But then, last night as I visited my mate Leap and we enjoyed a delicious KFC (dine in as it was a special occasion), it hit me. I could once again have the most hallowed of all chicken based fast food products....THE DOUBLE DOWN SANDWICH.

Last year my boyfriend and I got caught up in all the volcanic ash saga and ended up in Miami. On the long drive from Sarasota to Fort Lauderdale we were fucking STARVING. And then, out of nowhere, we saw the shining beacon up ahead that was Colonel Sanders and collectively sighed in relief, did some air punching and American style whooping and drove on in.

When there, and safely within the air conditioned restaurant, we gazed up at the menu with disbelief. For there, in front of our own, British eyes, was the stuff of fairytales, the Mecca for the Masticator (sorry) and it was beautiful. For those uneducated in fast food, the Double Down Sandwich is to KFC what the Martini is to James Bond. Here's the Daily Mail's artery thickening article on it, which I had dribbled over the week before we went on holiday.  It appears some absolute genius was sitting in a product meeting in KFC Head Office and decided that what the USA needs, what it's been crying out for, is a chicken burger that - and this is the amazing part -  instead of BUNS, it needs CHICKEN AS BUNS. You heard it right. CHICKEN AS BUNS.

It was fucking GREAT. I wish I could stick my nose up at it and say it was horrid, that I felt disgusting and greasy after eating it, that I needed to escape to the toilet and have a baby-wipe bath. But I didn't, I loved every salty, cheesy, crispy yet greasy bite was delicious. So I am now sitting counting down the days, seconds and hours until I can once again enjoy one in all it's beige goodness.