KFC

So after I came out of my salt comatose (and that’s no exaggeration, unfortunately), I’m able to tell you about the brief experience I had at this restaurant.
My visit only included using the drive-​thru, so nothing special there. I ordered my chicken pot pie meal with a diet Pepsi, gave the lady at the window my money and waited for my food, which came quickly.
When I opened the box of my much-​anticipated chicken pot pie lunch, I was pleasantly surprised with the size of the pie! It was a good 6 inch pie with a flakey outer crust — winning so far. I then broke open the pie and was even more excited! The in-​erds were full of juicy chicken, peas, carrots, and when you broke off the flakey crust and mixed it in, it looked like this was going to be a total slam dunk. But then I tried the gravy sauce in the pot pie. Man, I think I got my WEEKLY supply of salt in that single meal. Geez, KFC, what are you doing?! The quantity of salt in that gravy was insane. I think you’d find less salt in a salt shaker. So there is definitely room for improvement there. But anyway, after the salt shock, I reluctantly ate the whole pie (but to my organs discontent!), and gulped down my Pepsi, which was the saving grace of the meal.
I love KFC, but if you are sensitive to salt (or would like to avoid eating a weeks worth of salt at once), stay away from the chicken pot pie and go for some plain chicken instead.

The food here is much the same as any KFC. What differs is the low quality of the management. More often than not, when we stop here (which is seldom, given the many disappointments we’ve had), they’re out of whatever we order… ask for two pot pies? They only have one. Ask for grilled chicken, two breasts & four wings, they only have one breast and one wing. Ask for two two-​piece white-​meat dinners, they’re out of grilled chicken breasts. So unless you really crave KFC, skip the Wauconda store. Odds are good you’d be disappointed anyway.

When I walked into Kentucky Fried Chicken, I immediately realized why it was called Kentucky Fried Chicken. I looked over my right shoulder to see a large man peering into my fake eye. The resolute man exclaimed «excuse me.» I realized at that time that that man had just passed gas and needed napkins. Chunky gravy across the man’s jaw line coated his scraggly beard. He smiled a toothless smile which was both reassuring and Kentucky-​esque. I stepped up to order, still cognizant of the humble man behind me. I pulled out my RAZR cellular phone and started talking in what I assumed to be Japanese in order to mask my personal meal of 8 potato sides, having never really enjoyed fried chicken. The countergirl smiled with delight and said «Okey Dokey!» I waited for my order for what seemed like hours. In no less than 2 minutes. I devoured the potatoes whole one by one staring intently into the eyes of the whimsical yet plump countergirl like a penguin cut out of a watermelon. I realized at that moment that I was the aforementioned man. Call me Ishmael. On a side note, this is the first KFC that I’ve been to that was BYOB.

KFC, get your chicken and get out. Nothing special or fantastic about this one to stand out from the rest. But nothing horrible about it either.