It’s Not A Publix Buffalo Chicken Tender Sub Without The Buffalo, by Collin
With Iowa State trailing Oklahoma 24-13 in the third quarter in Norman, and that being the best of the noon slate of games today, I decided to order my go-to “I’m watching college football all day Honey leave me alone” meal: the Publix buffalo chicken tender sub. White roll (though wheat is fine), American cheese (didn’t feel like Muenster today), oregano, and garlic dill pickle chips on the side.
I was born in Philadelphia, home of perhaps the most famous sub-style sandwich, the Philly cheesesteak. But I will argue that, depending on your mood, this particular Pub Sub can actually be even better. Come at me, Sports Radio WIP caller. The fried chicken strips, when drowned separately in a creamy-with-some-decent-heat buffalo sauce IN A SEPARATE BOWL OR PLASTIC BAG AND NOT ON THE SANDWICH DIRECTLY (you know who you are, certain Publix sandwich makers in certain stores that aren’t trying as hard), is as addictive and intoxicating as the pill mill-prescribed Oxycodone given out at the pharmacy.
I am also a child of modern convenience, and usually order my Pub Subs in advance via their online website on my phone. They usually have them waiting for me once I get there (though sometimes they get overwhelmed or forget to check the printer), and I can duck in-and-out the side entrance quickly before heading back to my home a few blocks away. And because this is a warm sandwich, when it’s made in advance they put it in a warmer with my name on it while it waits for me to pick it up. I don’t want to open it before I can eat it because each half of the sandwich is wrapped in wax paper and then placed in a paper bag. That also helps to keep it warm before I get home.
So when I get home, and there’s no buffalo sauce on the sandwich... it’s hard. Really hard, you know? When this happened today, again, I had to let Publix know how I felt.
Publix is out here selling dreams. They have let me into their pearly gates of delicious so many times, and their business model is based on the premise that it’s always available from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. seven days a week. Where shopping is a pleasure? Not when you get home and your sandwich is as dry as the paper which surrounds it, Lakeland Mafia.
The Big Szechuan Fail, by Jamie
OK, so I wrote about the McDonald’s szechuan sauce in the TV viewing post. Even though my wife was not excited to chow down on McNuggets, she wanted to try the sauce too. So we took our kid to the nearest McDonald’s giving the stuff away this morning.
My first hint this would be a debacle should have been where they chose to send the sauce. All the McDonald’s with szechuan sauce were near college campuses. (In Tampa, you could go to 56th Street and Fowler, down the street from USF.) I actually thought about going to the McDonald’s right next to TCU, thinking maybe all the students would be busy with College Gameday and we could sneak through the crowd. But that’s a long drive. We settled on the one nearest us.
We didn’t even make it to the parking lot before aborting the mission. As my wife reached the intersection, we could see there was a line out the door. Not like a couple people, either. There were seriously 50 people in line. At McDonald’s. Nah.
Now, I’ll wait in line for food. But I better be getting something really good at the end of it, like Pecan Lodge or Voodoo Doughnut or something. McDonald’s just does not count as good, I’m sorry. Not having access to another dimension, we ended up at Chick-Fil-A.
On the plus side, if McDonald’s can bring back McRib 75 years in a row, they can surely bring szechuan sauce back. THIS IS NOT OVER.