That is what I went through to get this fried chicken sandwich. Why, you ask? Because it is the best fried chicken sandwich ever! Oh, I'd heard tell of it, spoken of like the Holy Grail by those who had sampled its savory goodness. But I thought, why the hell would I drive to Oakland for a damned sandwich?
Well. I didn't know Bakesale Betty. My bad. You get off of the highway in Oakland, land on Telegraph Avenue, and in an unmarked corner space painted black, you notice that there are more than a few people waiting outside. Apparently, when it is not shitting rain, there is usually a line out the door and around the corner. I was lucky enough to go right to the front of the line, like a little gift from the gods - I don't know which gods - the Lunch gods? I felt like I was at the Soup Nazi - there is no menu, you have to know what you want. So I said very clearly with little expression "two fried chicken sandwiches, please", and shuffled my feet down the line towards the cash register, without looking down.
While they were being made, I ordered a chicken pot pie for dinner. You know it's a foul-weather day when you are making provisions for 2 meals at the same time.
So I recieved my food, got back in the car, and drove back to San Rafael where Amy was waiting at her house to eat lunch with me. Those sandwiches were taunting me from their box, I tell you! As soon as I arrived, we sat down and dug in....mmmmmm! The coleslaw was delicious, the bun was soft, and the chicken was succulent. All elements had just the right flavor and spice, and blended perfectly. It's completely satisfying without being the least bit heavy.
So now I have this sandwich on the brain. I must have another one, soon.
Why did the chicken cross the road? I have no idea, but I would cross two bridges in a rainstorm to get another one of these sandwiches in a minute!
