Do you remember that scene in Alien?
The one where John Hurt’s character experiences a bout of digestive distress just before the chestburster comes, uh, bursting onto the scene.
One might even call it an explosive entrance.
Or is that an explosive exit?
But anyway, that’s exactly how I felt after consuming KFC’s new Mac ‘N Cheese Zinger burger.
Not so much the explosive exit part, but how after eating it, I felt it inside me.
And not in a good way.
I should also point out that I only managed to finish half of it before tapping out.
Yes, I have a delicate constitution that way.
After eating it, I felt it inside me
But are you not the great Snacktivist? The one who laughs in the face of sodium, sugar and fat, and the three horsemen of the diet apocalypse—renal failure, diabetes and heart disease?
It might surprise you to note that the Snacktivist is merely my secret alter-ego, and I don’t often snack or eat junk food when I’m off the clock, as it were.
Like you know how Bruce Wayne’s voice takes on a near-subsonic gravelly edge when he becomes Batman?
Yeah, I’m like that. Except instead of being the hero that Gotham deserves, but didn’t need right now, I eat junk food.
I like to think that most times, I have fairly eating habits, so eating the Mac 'N Cheese Zinger burger actually made me feel a little ill.
It’s the latest in KFC’s mad experiments to see how far it can push the boundaries of science, good taste and common sense in replacing something bread-based as the bun of choice in its Zinger burgers.
Previously, there was the Double Down burger, which saw two Zinger chicken patties sandwiching a slice of bacon and cheese. Which essentially is a burger hit with an inverter ray gun.
Like underwear, patties belong on the inside of, not the outside. There's a really good reason why this is so, and prosaic though it may be, it's to keep your hands from getting (too) dirty.
So this latest Zinger abomination sees a pair of breaded, deep-fried pockets taking the place of the bun, filled with what I assume to be macaroni and cheese. I say assume because between the breading, the oil giving me a grease lip gloss with every bite, the congealed cheese and the fossilsed macaroni therein, it’s hard to tell.
It’s nominally mac and cheese, but only if you’re willing to stretch your definition of what constitutes “mac” and “cheese”. Or, for that matter, what constitutes “mac and cheese” in the collective sense. Food purists should look away now, but then if you’re a food purist and reading a snack column, you’re barking up the wrong tree.
It’s the latest in KFC’s mad experiments to see how far it can push the boundaries of common sense in replacing something bread-based as the bun of choice in its Zinger burgers.
What’s between them is far less surprising. It’s a block of chicken from a regular Zinger. Nothing much to see here, move along.
But when all their powers combine, it summons not Captain Planet, but a monstrosity a little over 10cm tall and something I could barely fit into my mouth.
Again, not in a good way.
But once I figured out how to fit it into my mouth (not in a good way, as you might have guessed) without dislocating my jaw, Mac ‘N Cheese Zinger is surprisingly light. Insofar as a pair of deep-fried things sandwiching another deep-fried thing can be light.
But while it’s light in your mouth, the same certainly can’t be said about the way it just sits in your stomach. Which is why I said earlier I could feel it inside me.
It just… lies there, staring up at you with its hollow, dead eyes trained on the mortal that dared take on such an onerous, golden-brown task.
It’s two fat middle fingers to any concession of healthy eating. Hell, there’s not even a hint of insipid yellow lettuce as a token gesture toward eating well.
But, and this is crucial, the Mac ‘N Cheese Zinger is unabashed about having nil concessions to culinary political correctness. And for that gumption, and that gumption alone, it gets a meh.
10-word review: Two fried things with a fried thing sandwiched in between.
Best paired with: A stronger constitution, because I certainly don't have one.