The Gravy Chronicles: A Chicken Adventure Gone Awry

Ah, chicken. The culinary superhero of the protein world. It’s the delicious middle ground between red meat and leafy greens—making it the best choice for all of us who love food but have diets forced upon us that could rival a toddler’s picky palette. Between my husband and me, we’ve eaten more chicken than a flock of broilers! But these days, due to our various health issues, we often find ourselves relying on the magical delivery elves known as Door Dash.

Now, let’s be clear: we don’t always order chicken (although it’s a frequent flyer in our diet). I tend to swoon over Italian cuisine like a pasta-loving Romeo, gravitating toward cavatelli or lasagna as if they hold the secret to eternal youth. But when it comes down to getting that all-important protein into our bodies, chicken is our trusty steed—ready to charge into the battlefield of dietary needs.

Door Dash: Our Culinary Lifeline

Ah, Door Dash! The app that has become as essential to us as coffee on a Monday morning. My husband has a special love for fried chicken, specifically the Colonel’s crispy creation. And guess what? It wasn’t until he found himself in the hospital after his last surgery that I decided to indulge in a little fried nostalgia myself. There he was, freshly liberated from the clutches of bland hospital food, practically salivating at the thought of a simple piece of chicken and some plain mashed potatoes. I couldn’t resist, I ordered just a plain chicken sandwich with just mayo. And let me tell you, folks, that sandwich was like a ticket back to flavor town!

Suddenly, I was hooked on that crispy goodness too. But here’s where the plot thickens like gravy on a poorly executed mashed potato order: my husband is pickier than a cat at a dog park. Everyone knows it and we still love him but he’s really picky. He’s got more food quirks than a TikTok chef, and his preferences are as plain as his love for the color beige. “No sauces, no condiments, no fuss,” he insists. We’re talking plain cheeseburgers and chicken dinners that come with an unwelcome gravy sidekick.

The Gravy Debacle: A Comedy of Errors

Now, you’d think with all this plainness, ordering food would be a breeze. Just order it “plain, on the side,” and voilà! But no! Enter Door Dash, stage left, with all its whimsical mistakes. For example, when I’ve ordered Sugar-Free Red Bull Amber and received Regular Red Bull Watermelon, a flavor combination that sounds like a frat party gone wrong, I am frustrated at the lack of attention to detail. I’ve requested a salad sans dressing only to receive an oil and vinegar explosion that could rival a salad-themed Jackson Pollock painting. It never fails.

But the pièce de résistance? Today’s KFC mashed potato debacle. You see, my husband simply cannot abide by the notion of gravy invading his mashed potatoes. So, when he orders “mashed potatoes, NO GRAVY,” one would assume the universe would comply. But alas! Each time, (seven and counting) we’ve been served potatoes by Door Dash drenched in what we’ve affectionately dubbed “the sauce of betrayal.”

A Trip to KFC: The Ultimate Test

Recently, my husband took matters into his own hands and ventured to the KFC drive-thru himself. Like a knight on a quest for the Holy Grail of mashed potatoes, he placed his order: “A chicken sandwich with mayo only and a fried chicken dinner, with mashed potatoes, NO GRAVY.” Clear as day, right? But somehow, in the time it took him to circle around to the pickup window, this simple order went rogue.

As he discovered the gravy-coated betrayal, my husband calmly pointed it out to the cashier, only to be met with increasing rudeness. Apparently, at KFC, they’d rather risk a customer revolt over a small bowl of plain mashed potatoes than serve a man who just survived major surgery a side dish that wouldn’t send him spiraling into a creamy abyss.

The Final Straw

In a plot twist worthy of a soap opera, after some back-and-forth banter, he finally received a minuscule bowl of mashed potatoes devoid of gravy—only to be told, “If you don’t like gravy, you shouldn’t come back to KFC.” Cue the dramatic gasp!

We tried reaching out to KFC corporate, expecting at least a polite “we’re sorry,” but guess what? Crickets. Is this the standard policy at all KFC locations or just the one on Brownsville Rd in Pittsburgh? And where was the manager? I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked in enough customer service jobs to know that telling someone not to return is a surefire way to get fired faster than you can say “extra crispy.”

A Plea to the Chicken Overlords

So here’s the question I pose to all KFC owners and management: What’s the harm in a customer asking you to hold an item? My husband, a cancer patient, just wants a side of comfort food that won’t launch him into a flavor-induced panic attack. Is that really too much to ask?

Food allergies are real, people! And the next time you’re tempted to slap onions, ketchup or gravy on a dish that was explicitly ordered without it, remember: you’re not just cooking; you’re dealing with people’s health and happiness.

In conclusion, I love chicken, and I believe it deserves better than this gravy-laden madness. So, KFC, if you’re listening, let’s aim for a future where plain mashed potatoes are celebrated rather than scorned. Because if we can’t find peace with our food, what’s the point of the whole fried chicken experience?

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to eat a salad that’s likely drowning in dressing. But hey, at least it’s not gravy-laden mashed potatoes!

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