C, C, C, Chicken Express

Welcome to C day, which, as it turned out, was also a Potluck Day around the office. A much loved member of our support team is moving on to greener pastures, better hours, and a different building. Some folks make all the luck.



The Process:

As our luck would have it, Chicken Express begins with C and is a long time favorite of the gang, especially when it comes bringing a big platter of food to a potluck. There are, to be fair, a few other C restaurants in the directory that might have made it to the top of the list had we not had larger obligations. CE it would be !

The Chow:
Chicken Express is an odd little corner place whose specialty is, oddly, chicken, Mexican rotisserie style. The options are many: eat in, take out, or drive thru. All options come with Open Late, a super nice option wherever you happen to live, but not much of a value add if you’re just looking for lunchtime fun. And, late is, after all, a relative term in a town where the sidewalks are rolled in at five in the afternoon.



If restaurants had middle names Bargain would be appropriate for CE. Three whole chickens, cut and boxed for a mere 24 bucks. No sauce, no extras, no tortillas, just skin, meat and bones. Cougar offered to drive, so off we went to pile into her vintage Bentley and do the drive thru. I have to confess that I’ve never been a big fan of the drive thru, but after yesterday’s clothes destroying experience at Bud’s I was happy to forego the wait in a greasy foyer.

If presentation is everything, then we had some work to do before walking the dead birds into the potluck. Cougar brought in a nice platter and I plated it up, not without some significant direction and tips from Flower herself. You can see that it made for a very appealing presentation.



You might, at this point, be wondering about the actual chicken itself. What did it taste like? Imagine those old snack crackers, Chicken in a Biscuit with a little less taste and the texture of very fine packed sawdust….What was Express about it? The drive thru, perhaps…or the digestion time: 45 minutes from mouth to beak.

The Wrap:
Chicken, chicken, I declare, I see someone’s underwear. Could be pink, could be white, but I won’t eat again tonight.

The Rating: 2.5 out of 5.