So this is how it works: In the city, you have the small, mom-and-pop, hole-in-the-wall, usually ethnic eateries or regional chains (technically speaking, El Pollo Loco and Yoshinoya would be classified as “ethnic food” as well). In the suburbs – and I mean the real suburbs (the 818 and 626 don’t count anymore), you have these freakishly peculiar, strangely-named chain or test-market chain establishments that soccer moms and their spawn subside on. Claim Jumper, anyone?
One of these such chains is called Chick-fil-A. I’ve heard about this one a couple years back, and thought, "What a weird name. Chik-Fill-UH?” But then I realized it was pronounced “Chik-Fill-AY,” as in “chicken fillet.”
The only place in this Golden State I’ve ever seen these Chik-Fill-UH! joints in is deep in the Inland Empire, along the 15 Freeway corridor. They don’t stand on their own though, only in or next to a big-box development that usually includes a Target or Sprawl-Mart, and the obligatory Kohl’s, Bed Bath and Beyond and a Best Buy thrown in for good measure.
This was a weekend of trying all things new. After spoiling myself in the relaxing Glen Ivy Hot Springs Spa for the first time, I headed back up The 15 hungry, and ate at, why, not, Chik-Fill-UH!
Arriving there, it had all the trappings of a fast food chain: The drive thru, the mandatory ball bounce area for the little tykes, The chain’s history mentioned somewhere with a portrait of the founder smugly smiling. And there he was on the wall – a predictably elderly gentleman by the name of S. Truett Cathy (Cathy?) Ready to take his place among the Ray Krocs, Dave Thomases and Carl Karchers of the world (According to the history of the chain, it stretches back to 1946, where Mr. Cathy (giggle) and his brother seemed to invent the chicken fillet sandwich somewhere in Georgia, and two decades later opened the first Chik-Fill-UH! stores in Atlanta).
This being my first time, I didn’t know what to expect. Upon walking in, as if some sort of survival mechanism, I seemed to find myself as the only non-white person in the establishment. And not only non-white, but non-blond. To my relief, this brown Fil-A-pino person spotted an African American cashier, and I naturally gravitated myself to her counter - But not before inspecting the rather peculiar menu.
Everything was…chicken sandwiches. Chicken nugget packs, charbroiled chicken sandwiches and chicken fillets (duh). Now I got it. They had the mandatory fast food “combo items,” with a chicken something, a soft drink and fries. But these fries were dubbed “waffle fries.” One of the combo selections had their standard chicken fillet sandwich (why not), plus a cole slaw (merely referred to as “slaw” here), so why not.
“Number 7,” I told my colored sistah. “With a lemonade,” my cola-weaned self requested. I even specified “for here,” just for the sake of immersing myself in the Chik-Fill-UH! experience.
After the transaction of currency and not even a minute, she hands me the tray and wishes me the best. My car running on empty, I also asked her where the nearest gas station was, to where she pulled out one of her managers, a Latino dude, to give me directions. “Go down this road,” he said, pointing east, “Right after you see houses, there’s a 76, down the road, about a block away.” (Later, I reached that 76 and I don't know what people out here consider "a block" but I must have gone over a mile...) I thanked him, and turned 180 degrees to the condiment stand.
I grabbed a straw, plastic-wrapped fork, some napkins a couple packets of mustard and a couple more packets of ketchup. “Gee, there’s an awful lot of packets of ketchup here,” I thought to myself. So I grabbed a few more.
I sat down at one of the tables near the window and inspected my meal. It was neatly wrapped in the red-on-white corporate colors of the chain. The first thing I noticed was that the sandwich didn’t come in a box, but a paper-foil bag. Perhaps these Chik-Fill-UH! people were doing the environmentally sound thing. The fries were in a cardboard container, like all other fast food fries are, though this one uniquely shaped, as if this chain was pressured to do things differently, where folds came up on the bottom corners. The slaw (smaller than I expected) came in a black round container with a clear lid and the lemonade came in a 16-oz styrofoam cup. It is now time.
I carefully opened the paper-foil bag containing the very essence of this chain. Inside was a chicken fillet sandwich, no lettuce, but a reasonably large sized chicken fillet patty mounted over a couple pickle slices. That seemed to be it.
So I opened one of the mustard packets and spread it on one bun, and opened one of the many ketchup packets and did the same for the other. Here we go.
It tasted like…a chicken fillet sandwich. In comparison, it’s a lot more considerable and a lot more flavorful than a McChicken (of course that’s not a good comparison anyway) but still not as interesting as even a Wendy’s chicken sandwich. I felt slightly disappointed. After all, this was the very namesake of Chik-Fill-UH, damnit!
I tried the waffle fries. They were basically criss-cut fries, though not as heavily battered or as crunchy. Kind of soft. I instinctively grabbed one of the ketchup packets, and soon found myself opening some more.
I believe I had consumed about three or four ketchup packets to justify eating these waffle fries.
The “slaw” was like any other slaw. The cabbage was cut more finer than the one you’d find at KFC. Still I’d prefer the KFC slaw, though this one wasn’t submerged in as much mayo-milk.
As I sipped my lemonade (which I found out was a house-made lemonade, and it was nice and sweet, the only thing that didn’t seem to disappoint me), I looked around. First I was a little wrong on my clientele assumption. Now the place had a more diverse ethnic mix: A black gentleman was waiting in line, a couple of Latino teenagers were talking about Rage Against The Machine as they found a table. I did see The Manager, a girthy, surly-but-polite white guy with blonde crew-cut hair, dressed in a short-sleeve button-down shirt and a tie. Of course such a uniform screams “The Manager.” It was as though I expected someone like him to manage not only this establishment, but people who looked like him to manage all the other Chik-Fill-UH!s out there. I would have to say that the customer service looked pretty good here, and in fact Chik-Fill-UH! was recently ranked as the top fast-food chain in the country when it came to customer service. Maybe I’ll try the drive thru next time to put that to the test! Muhahahaha.
I also inspected the décor and marketing culture of the restaurant. I must say the tables do look nice, the bench seats have some sort of respectfully decorative motif, the place was immaculate (of course it was a new place, though).
The in-store ads feature black-and-white cows holding sandwich-board signs, crudely painted with messages like, “EAT MOR CHIKN” and other humorous messages, encouraging people to not eat beef (burgers) and eat chicken instead. I instantly thought of the Indian American demographic flocking to Chik-Fill-UH!
Within minutes my meal was consumed. I still wanted more though, so I tried their desert (prompted by a table display ad that read (in the crudely-written cow font) “CHIKN / DESURT” (huh?) Oh well, I bought myself a slice of lemon pie to go.
I didn’t eat it until arriving home – some 55 miles away. I thought it would be cool to bring back a little souvenir of sorts from Chik-Fill-UH! Eventually I did eat it and though it was nice and sweet (especially when I got down to the crust part), I did see to my surprise what looked like two Nabisco Nilla Wafers sticking out of the end crust portion of the pie slice. Maybe it’s just a Southern thing, I thought to myself.
Usually when I do go to McDonalds/Wendy’s/Burger King, I don’t eat the burgers (I only eat burgers once in a while and boy are they good when you don’t eat them all the time). I thought about the prospect of a foreseeable future when these Chik-Fill-UHs creep into my urban world and become one of my regular fast food choices. A fast-food establishment that sells nothing but chicken sandwiches is a nice healthy (healthier) alternative to the burger world, but frankly…I don’t see what all the fuss is about.
Chik-Fill-UH! I mean – Chick-fil-A restaurants can be found in the Inland Empire along the 15 freeway. This particular location was located at The Crossings of South Corona, 3555 Grand Oaks in Corona - I-15 South, exit Cajalco Road.
