“Wise man say, it’s a hardship to screw up chicken fingers.”
There have been weeks at work where I will eat fangers or chiggin sammiches for 5 lunches, because it’s the only thing that the corporate cafe across the street or the mall food court around the block cannot possibly make inedible (and in fact, dressed properly, are often damn tasty).
I should certainly be expanding my local palette, but going any farther than those places I couldn’t throw a rock and hit takes more time than I like to give to my lunching (who honestly needs an hour a day for lunch? I would rather skip lunch and siesta, but for whatever reason that’s “frowned upon”). Once nice weather rolls around I will ease into the neighborhood eateries, but for now…can’t argue with that protein energy, baby.
I have found faith in chicken edibility to be universally true in virtually every phase of my life thus far. Primary school. College. Hospitals. Prison (jk, jk). But seriously, in the U.S. at least, cooked or fried chicken is about the closest thing to a guaranteed halfway-decent meal you can get. It’s (relatively) healthy, provides good nutrition & energy, and can be prepared in so many different ways with so many different dressings or sides (Bubba Gump Chicken Co.?) that its versatility can save it from monotony.
My name is Tom, and I just really like chicken fingers, y’all.