KFC’s Cheetos Sandwich: A Review

Sometimes in life, you get into ruts. You go through the motions for a few weeks, and you figure you’ll get back to normal soon enough, but then it’s a year later, and you’ve given yourself over to inertia. Things don’t inspire you like they used to, and you keep waiting for something to come into your life to knock you out of it and bring back that fire.

Well, it doesn’t happen that way. You have to take action. You have to at least go to KFC to order it.

Hope.

When the KFC Cheetos Sandwich first came into my life, it was just a press release. But it awakened something within me. Memories of the golden days (Taco Bell’s Doritos Locos Tacos) I so cherished. I couldn’t go back, but maybe I could relive the magic. So I marked down the days on my calendar until I could eat this sandwich and turn my life around. And then, the day finally arrived. I drove to the nearest KFC and confidently ordered my sandwich.

Pictured: A menu of lies.

“Ummm, do you guys have the Cheetos sandwich thing?” I said with confidence. “….Yes.” was the response. “Well, then put it on the menu board, goddammit, and don’t scare me like that.” I thought, thoughtfully. They gave me the sandwich, and it smelled like a Kraft Mac & Cheese packet. Good start. I drove home and 15 minutes later, I had it in front of me.

The bag is now technically edible. Probably nutritious. 

The grease/cheese sauce was already leaking through the bag. “Yes, perfect.” I thought. So, I opened it up, and took it out of its box and…

A bit small actually. For $5, I was expecting like, a Chick-fil-A sized sandwich, not whatever child size this is. But that’s okay, I forgave it. First bite, pretty good. I was impressed with the Cheetos actually retaining their texture, even after a 10-15 minute drive home from the KFC. However, the chicken itself wasn’t crispy, almost stale, and the cheese sauce/grease that seemed so promising seemed to disappear on the actual sandwich.

“This isn’t saving my life.” I thought. And I was really counting on that. I mean, it was good, but would I now have to work through my issues on my own? And did I put too many expectations on a chicken sandwich? Probably. But maybe its value wasn’t in the delicious destination, but the hope and rejuvenation it gave me along the way.

The KFC Cheetos Sandwich: 4/5 Stars

No. Fuck that. I need this. All that other bullshit up there. Fuck it. So, I walked to the nearest KFC—yes, there’s one within walking distance, I live a very privileged life—for a fresh one to eat immediately 2 hours later.

This is actually kind of beautiful. Although I wish the bucket was lit up like a shining beacon to depressed foodies.

I walked right up to the counter and demanded, “Hey, do you guys have the Cheetos chicken sandwich?” They did. Which I would have known if I looked at ad in the front window.

Ad not pictured. But I did really appreciate the packaging.

This one I ate right away, and it was fantastic. The chicken as crunchy as it was supposed to be, the Cheetos even crunchier than before, and the sauce in perfect proportion to the sandwich. This is what I envisioned. This is what I had been searching for! I finished my last bite and wept (metaphorically, I save my tears for more important things like Toy Story and other assorted children’s movies).

Inspiration.

I was gonna be okay. And as I sat alone on a KFC patio, I came to a realization. Maybe the value in this sandwich wasn’t the delicious destination, but the hope and rejuvenation it gave me along the way. Thank you KFC. Thank you Cheetos. You saved my life.

The KFC Cheetos Sandwich: 5/5 stars.

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