KFC Review – Checkpoint Charlie, Berlin, Germany – 18/10/23
Summary
Chicken 12/20
Sides 6/10
Service 7/10
Magic 9/10
Total 34/50
The story
“Two thousand years ago, the proudest boast was civis romanus sum. Today, in the world of freedom, the proudest boast is “Ich bin ein Berliner!”
Whether you take a Berliner to be a citizen of the city of Berlin or to be a jelly donut, John Francis Kennedy’s momentous statement is equally profound. As someone who is equally as fond of freedom, degenerate modern art, nazi facts (not a fan of nazis to be perfectly clear, unsupervised access to the history channel in my formative years has just turned me morbid), and jelly donuts, Berlin is a city that holds a special fascination for me.
There to run the 49th edition of the Berlin marathon and coming off the back of a month of monastic self-denial in preparation, I was chomping at the bit. I was excited both to run the race and for the race to be run so that I could get back to my life’s true calling, reviewing KFC restaurants. After the race I spent the next 6 hours painstakingly untying the Gordian Knot that my stomach had adopted in the aftermath of the effort. Relieved, we made the pleasant stroll down the Friedrichstraße to a Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant located at Checkpoint Charlie, the symbolic border between the free west and the soviet east during the cold war. That the Colonel has established himself as ongoing sentinel at this monumental border is, I’m sure, a surprise to no thinking person. Read on to discover whether the offering was worthy the location.
The order
From a remarkably straightforward menu we ordered a classic three piece box, a zinger burger, two chips, two corn on the cop, a large gravy, and for good measure and by mistake, an additional potato and gravy. I’m sorry to say that the price of the meal has been lost to time.
In the spirit of celebration the meal was accompanied by a bottle of veuve clicquot, sipped from the finest paper cups that the restaurant had to offer.
Chicken –12/20
Our culinary experience in Germany up to this point had indicated that the average German lives on meat (preferably fried), spuds, gravy, and beer. This obviously provides a strong cultural base for KFC to take off from. Like the Soviets sweeping south at the end of WWII though, the positive start wasn’t able to be capitalised on. I was given two thighs and a wing, which is a diabolical combination of pieces. The chicken itself didn’t fare much better. The crunch factor of the chicken had more in common with the churning mud of a Russian thaw than the firm turf of a French spring. The taste was the blend of the secret herbs and spices that we know and love, but without the texture, a decisive victory was not possible and a tense stalemate an inevitability.
Sides – 6/10
Unfortunately the sides were also more Lada than Mustang. The chips were acceptable but seemed to have been planned by central committee, lacking the animating flair.
The gravy was on the better side of average but only by a small margin. The addition of potato to the mix didn’t improve anything, and looking back, I’d struggle to tell you how both ended up in the order.
The cups that we drank our wine out of were uniquely poorly suited to the endeavour but that was no one’s fault but our own. The Colonel, as a man committed to the sober production of democratic excellence cannot be blamed for the decadent follies of the bourgeoisie.
Service – 7/10
The lie at the heart of the communist system is that the group is wiser than the individual. The lie at the heart of the capitalist system is that the customer is always right. Thankfully some of the advances of American hegemony had been fought off at KFC Checkpoint Charlie and we weren’t subjected to ‘service with a smile’, which was a great start off the bat. The staff were being harassed and harangued by a United Nations consortium of foreigners but took it all in their stride and struggled through gallantly.
Magic – 9/10
Putting a KFC right under the drapery of the iron curtain is an act of swaggering bravado akin to a medieval conqueror displaying the head of a deposed king on a spike at his own wall. The crushing victory of the power of capital flowing freely down to the lowest common culinary denominator is a victory that I was all on board to see celebrated. While the lowest common denominator isn’t usually celebrated, sometimes it should be. What brings people together stops them from pulling apart and makes the world a better place. As the Colonel himself said, “I feed truckdrivers and millionaires at the same table.” Ich bin ein Berliner.
Mingin or Finger lickin?
Finger Lickin 🙂
KFC Reviews 