Recreating the KFC Double Down, locavore-style

The KFC Double Down might be simple blasphemy, or just a sign that the apocalypse is nigh. Were the Four Horsemen eating Double Downs while they rode into town? Certainly, anyone who eats more than half of one in their lifetime greatly ups their chances of dying before December 2012.

I say this as someone who has, indeed, eaten a Double Down. (I know. I live on the edge like that.) I went on a secret mission, cloaked by half-truths, with another human who will remain unnamed here—it’s fair enough to out myself, but not to out my compatriot—and we tried the damn thing. And it wasn’t terrible, as these things go.

It was certainly too salty. The Colonel’s Special Sauce was both lacking in amount and was functionally tasteless. The “sandwich” looked much less appetizing than the advertisement (which isn’t really saying much). The wan cheese and limp bacon really didn’t offer any respite from the mediocrity.

While we ate our contraband, my compatriot said, “You know, this would be really good with some spinach in the middle,” which led me to comment on the ridiculousness of introducing a vegetable into a “sandwich” where the bread has been replaced with fried chicken, which then led us to discuss how the damn thing could be recreated at home.

I know. You’re sitting there saying, Um, Genie? Why would anyone recreate this at home?

And I retort with this: What if we could avert the apocalypse if we just shopped locally for the ingredients?

Thinking corporately, shopping locally

Here’s what the Double Down comprises:

• Two pieces of fried chicken breast (Note: There is a grilled option, but it has more sodium than the fried incarnation, and if you’re eating meat as a bread replacement, why do it in a half-ass manner?);
• The Colonel’s Special Sauce;
• A slice of Monterey Jack;
• A slice of Pepper Jack;
• A slice of bacon.

A trip to the Ferry Plaza Farmers’ Market on Saturday morning got me a long way toward all the ingredients on the list. I picked up a half-dozen Rock Island eggs from Petaluma Farms for $1.75, a rasher of Fatted Calf bacon for $9.68, and some aged cheddar from Pt. Reyes Farmstead Cheese Co. for $10. Inside the Ferry Plaza, I bought 750 mL of Stonehouse House Blend olive oil for $18, and stopped at Cowgirl Creamery to see if they had something to sub in for the Pepper Jack.

“I need something that’s preferably local, definitely regional, will sub in for a Pepper Jack in a recipe, and will melt a bit,” I told the cheesemonger, whose face lit up.

“I know just the thing,” she said, and she handed me a taste of Capricorns, a peppercorn-laced cheese from Tumalo Farms in Bend, OR. It might not have been from within a 150-mile radius of my apartment, but it was perfect. I bought a quarter-pound for $7.44.

Please note that, compared to the Double Down, which clocks in at approximately $5.65, depending on where you purchase it, this little trip to market was breaking the bank.

And I had not yet bought the chicken.

A plan, thwarted

I originally planned to go to Bakesale Betty, a local purveyor of some of the best fried chicken sandwiches in the area, to purchase said sandwich ($8.50) and strip the chicken out of it, thereby eliminating any need to actually fry my own chicken for the homegrown Double Down variation. But the new Bakesale Betty location near my office had a soft opening and then closed up shop again right when I had the free night to try this little experiment, so that was the end of that.

Luckily, the Internet knows all, so I located the Bakesale Betty fried chicken sandwich recipe online and figured out what ingredients I needed to make this project a reality.

I hit my favorite butcher, Baron’s Meat & Poultry in Alameda, for a Mary’s Free Range Chicken breast, filleted into two relatively equal-sized pieces. $6.77. And then I went across to the Alameda Natural Grocery to pick up some Clover Stornetta Farms buttermilk ($1.49) and some cayenne pepper for the dredging flour ($2.49).

I got home from work at 6:05 p.m. and turned right around to go to the store. I was home from the shopping trip by 7, which is when I stopped to total up everything I had spent so far in service of this little experiment and came to $57.62. That’s not counting the flour, paprika, salt and pepper I already had at home. Oh. And the half-bottle of canola oil, which is not exactly a trivial ingredient. Right.

I had to sit down just a moment, really, because I could have had at least 10.2 KFC Double Downs for that amount, and it wouldn’t have required nearly that many vendors.

Also, it should be noted that the Ferry Plaza trip took approximately three hours door-to-door, and the second shopping trip for the chicken, buttermilk and cayenne took another 45 minutes.

I believe I can fry

The trip to pick up the illicit KFC Double Down took approximately an hour and fifteen minutes, including a drive to a KFC in an undisclosed location far enough from where we originated so no one we knew would see us, the parking, the purchasing of said “sandwich,” walking to a park to eat it, walking to a liquor store to buy a post-“sandwich” Diet Coke (I know…but really, does ANY of this make sense?), and driving back to wherever we may or may not have driven from in the first place.

Also, let’s note for the record that I had never, before Tuesday night, fried chicken at home. But the recipe was clear, I do have a modicum of cooking skill, and it turned out not to be that hard.

I arrived home from the store and began the preparation. This included the following steps:

1. Seasoning the chicken and then marinating it in buttermilk;
2. Making homemade mayonnaise with the eggs and the olive oil and the juice from an Oakland-grown lemon I picked up for free during the weekend’s garden tour;
3. Frying up some of the Fatted Calf bacon;
4. Eating some of the Fatted Calf bacon, because, come on, people—it was still going to be awhile until dinner;
5. Mixing up the dredging flour;
6. Doctoring up some of the mayonnaise to approximate my own version of the special sauce (This basically involved adding sweet paprika and cayenne until the mayonnaise tasted sassy);
7. Frying the chicken;
8. Slicing the cheese; and
9. Assembling the “sandwich.”

I steadily prepped and cooked (other than a 20-minute break while I waited for the chicken to get its full hour soaking in buttermilk), and didn’t eat the damn “sandwich” until 9:15 p.m.

I don’t even want to think about how many KFC Double Downs I could have bought, one trip through the drive-through at a time, during the seven hours and 45 minutes I spent, total, on shopping for and prepping this particular meal.

And, true to American fast food culture, I made this meal on a night when my roommate was at a concert. I ate it by myself. I even made sure to stream an episode of 30 Rock while I ate so it was a more “authentic” experience. Hell, I probably should have just taken the damn thing down to my car and eaten it there.

Lesson learned

I will say this: The sandwich I made at home? It was eminently tastier than the KFC version. The chicken tasted like actual chicken, it turns out I can actually fry chicken like a champ even though I had no real idea what I was doing, the bacon was insanely good, and the cheeses? To die for. Even the Gratto’s Sauce (my version of the Colonel’s concoction) was tasty and outstanding. But I could only eat half of what I prepared, and it wasn’t just because I’d snacked on bacon earlier. I had to actually chew it.

Yeah. The Colonel’s version? Goes down significantly more easily. And that’s all I’ll say about that.

At the end of the experiment, I tallied the true total. I didn’t technically have to go across the Bay to buy all the ingredients, so I’m estimating a true shopping and prep time of about four hours. And when I cost out the ingredients per sandwich, it works out something like this:

• Egg: $.44
• Olive oil: $4.50
• Lemon: Free
• Chicken Breast: $6.77
• Buttermilk: $.37
• Cayenne: $.04
• Bacon: $1.76
• Cheddar: $1
• Capricorns: $1.86
• Flour, salt, pepper, paprika, canola oil: Undetermined value

TOTAL: $16.74

And that’s before the mark-up for profit, were I to sell it to you.

Even with the adjustments for actual ingredients and more realistic time spent on shopping, the difference is staggering. That quick trip to KFC? That $5.65? You may think you’re saving time and money, but you’re not. You’re just delaying the time and the money you’re going to spend at the doctor’s office when your heart stops.

Made with wholesome ingredients or not, the Double Down? It may very well be a sign of the end of the world…as we know it.