A mix between KFC, Popeye's and a middle school hot lunch. The American South is a treasure trove of different "casual quick service" chains. Bojangles remained elusive for several months. I had seen them, but only when my standards were prohibitively high. To actually dine in one I'd have to be actually high.
Sunday I was passing through Greensboro North Carolina when the smell of country biscuits got the better of me. This intoxicating aroma of old timey cooking was too much to resist. I entered the dated looking chicken franchise and was greeted rather enthusiastically by a profoundly gay employee who looked like he was fresh out from jail.
I ordered a egg and cheese biscuit as well as a steak biscuit, then I waited with the growing crowd of Southerners who all preferred to spend the Lords day running a few weeks worth of trans fat through their system.
What arrived on my tray was the most vile creation ever to grace a dollar menu. Seasoned fries that looked like they had been created from MSG extract and potato leavings. The salt/butter to biscuit ratio was intense, the steak came country fried and extremely processed. I only made it a few bites into either item before giving up entirely. Bojangles only saving grace is their iced tea, advertised as "steeped in old time goodness" it was plum necessary after ingesting several bites of biscuit hell.