And now, Scary-Crayon presents...
the chicken finger sundae sandwich
by: Wes

Mmm-mmm-good! You know, I really like watching "South Park". On the surface, it seems like just a poorly animated cartoon about a handful of kids living in a remote town populated by incredibly stupid adults -- which in and of itself would be a potentially interesting premise, bad animation aside -- but in almost every episode Matt and Trey manage to include some commentary or satire regarding popular culture, current events, celebrity figures, and so forth. Sometimes it's insightful, sometimes not so much, but even a shallow introspective look is welcome when 99% of what you find on the tube (and the radio, and the newspaper, and issuing from the mouths of the people that you meet when you're walking down the street each day) is pointless filler that promotes lazy thinking or blind conformity or is just plain stupid. The occasional standup comic special notwithstanding, "South Park" is about the only show on Comedy Central I can tolerate.

"But wait!" you're thinking. "This is a Foodstuffs article -- why the heck is Wes going on about 'South Park'?" I will tell you. You see, in addition to the element that I've mentioned above, there is also a whole heckuva lotta wackiness that goes on in that Colorado town -- so much, in fact, that I'd wager that that is the primary and sole reason that most viewers watch the show (and the reason that many of them prefer "Family Guy", even though it's totally true that most of the gags could be constructed from idea balls fetched by manatees) -- and it's one of those wacky little instances that inspired today's article. See, in one episode, Cartman bumped his head and managed to convince the townspeople that he was having psychic visions (oOoOoOoOo), leading them to enlist his help to catch a serial killer. And in one of those faux visions, which led to the false arrest of a local ice cream shop owner, Cartman saw a fried chicken breast being covered with whipped cream, drizzled with chocolate syrup, and topped with a cherry. "Oh my God..." he gasped. "It's a fried chicken sundae." You can see the image from Cartman's vision the upper left corner of the picture above, just as a hand places a cherry atop the eldritch concoction -- and in the remainder of the image, you see the ingredients that I gathered in order to create my own version of this unusual dinner-dessert combo. Behold: The Chicken Finger Sundae Sandwich.


In lieu of the fast food fried chicken breast, I opted to go with dollar store chicken fingers. Fast food chicken typically has bones, and I dislike bones, so I dislike fast food chicken. I also dislike being hospitalized due to food poisoning, so that incident with Popeye's Chicken during freshman year (suffice it to say that I do NOT love that chicken from Popeye's) has pretty much destroyed my taste for any chicken that comes in a bucket. Also, I like buying stuff from the local dollar store (it makes me feel thrifty and cool), and seeing as how I had picked up some waffles on a recent visit, I decided to do the chicken and waffles thing and make a sandwich of it. After popping the waffles in the toaster and the chicken in the microwave, I was all set to add the ingredients that made The Chicken Finger Sundae Sandwich a sundae -- the whipped cream and chocolate syrup. Note that applying the whipped cream topping (also from the dollar store!) to the hot chicken caused it to get all bubbly and melty almost on contact. With the added chocolate syrup, this sandwich was very messy indeed.

...and a cherry on top! Well, two.

Cherries on top made The Chicken Finger Sundae Sandwich complete! Well, almost -- placing the adjacent waffle on top actually made the sandwich complete -- but that would hardly have made for such an impressive photo. Bear witness to the full and wondrous glory of the ingredients: the warm and slightly damp microwaved dollar store chicken fingers underneath, the melting globs of white whipped topping, the rich brown splashes of black-and-white B-movie blood, the bright red of the maraschino cherries, and, just to the left, the golden yellow of the waffle sporting the image of none other than the Pillsbury Doughboy. Naturally, I removed the stems from the cherries before I slammed him face-first into the adjacent pile of chicken sundae glop. It's too bad the real Poppin' Fresh wasn't here, though, 'cause then I could've jabbed the stems into his doughy skull and given him antennae! Doughy creatures with chef hats and red alien antennae and infectious giggles are delightful.

The Chicken Finger Sundae Sandwich: COMPLETE!Here goes...!

Above, we see the completed sandwich. As noted, the melting whipped topping and runny chocolate syrup made the thing a total mess, to say nothing of the soggy-making moisturizing effect that the chicken fingers had on the bottom piece -- and since I don't like touching sticky wet things (no porn career for me :() or ruining shirts with cascades of ice cream toppings, standard hand-to-mouth sandwich eating was out of the question. No, to tackle The Chicken Finger Sundae Sandwich, I grabbed a fork and dug in, carving off a single sodden sandwich square to begin the tasting. After taking a rather awkward photo, holding the camera in one hand and fork with the precariously positioned piece in the other, I raised the sample to my lips and tucked it into my open mouth...

yummore plz

...and then I went back for another, because holy crap it was excellent. I can't say how much the whipped topping had to do with the taste -- by this point, it had almost completely melted and seeped into the waffles -- and the waffles themselves were pretty much filler, but the combination of chocolate and chicken was truly worthy of note. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if someone else recognizes the potential of this combo and starts making chocolate-coated chicken nuggets, because I can seriously see them becoming a popular food item. Or ice cream sandwiches, only with chicken between the two chocolate wafers instead of ice cream. I could even see people stuffing roasted chickens with German chocolate cake and drizzling the bird with hot fudge. That's how well chocolate and chicken go together, folks. The cherries didn't add much, though -- cherries have an antisocial flavor that doesn't play well with others. Yes, you have chocolate covered cherries, but the tastes remain fairly distinctive -- first you have the chocolate, then you have the cherries. I do like maraschino cherries, but I might as well have been eating chocolate-chicken-and-waffles with cherries on the side. In the high school dance that took place within The Chicken Finger Sundae Sandwich, the cherries were the wallflower goths.

fin.Despite my glowing praise of the sandwich, however, I can't see making it a regular thing, at least in the form depicted here. As noted, the whipped topping pretty much evaporated on spot, and the cherries were just sort of there in an atmospheric capacity. The waffles were tasty, but ultimately negligible -- the primary purpose of bread on any sandwich is to give the diner an easy way of eating the stuff he/she really wants, and the waffles utterly failed to fulfill that function here. Yet The Chicken Finger Sundae Sandwich cannot be called a failure either, because it did alert me to the amazing taste sensation of chocolate and chicken. And you mark my words: it's gonna be big. Someday, instead of stirring cider with cinnamon sticks during the winter holidays, people will be stirring hot chocolate with chicken fries from Burger King. Instead of gorging on bon-bons, lazy, overweight housewives (or incredibly hot ones that hail from Wanker County and sport big red beehive hairdos) will scarf down buckets of chocolate-covered popcorn chicken while they watch their stories. Instead of ketchup packets, 6-piece orders of chicken nuggets at fast food joints will be served with little plastic tubs of chocolate sauce. Truly, I have seen the future: and in this brave new world, chocolate and chicken are inseparable.

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