Colonel’s Favorite Jellybeans

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WybE9dlfNiA

The Reckless Gastronome

Reporter, Life News today

Greetings and salutations, my esteemed readers. Too formal? Hey buddies, you are not going to believe what we’ve got today. Somebody thought it would be a good idea to make Kentucky Fried Chicken jellybeans. Wait, sorry, I’m approaching this too negatively. As I always say, “not in the face”, or more relevantly “keep an open mind.” I like KFC, I like jellybeans, there no reason I won’t like these. Sure, confectioners historically haven’t had much luck conveying meat flavors as so many failed attempts at bacon candy can attest to (which is weird, considering you can candy bacon, and that is amazing.)

I feel like almost everyone should be familiar with KFC, it operates in three fourths of the world’s countries, and with the ubiquitousness of American media, the remaining quarter of the planet has at least heard of it. In fact, with market localization (selling foods specific to the areas they are in) KFC is more popular in other countries than it is here in the States. Something that KFC is desperate to turn around.

I thought about writing about historical roots of fried chicken, or more importantly the African/Scottish roots of Southern American fried chicken but I was worried it would turn out a little dry (and nobody likes dry chicken), so instead I’ll do a brief (seriously I’ll try to keep it brief for once) biography on the literal face of fried chicken, Colonel Harland Sanders.

Harland David Sanders was born in 1890 in the state of Indiana. After his father died in 1895, young Harland took care of his younger siblings, when his mother took work in a tomato cannery. His mother remarried twice (lives were often brief back then) but he didn’t get along with his stepfather and in 1903 he dropped out of the seventh grade and went to work at a nearby farm. At this point I’m going to break narrative and say he had a lot of different jobs and was constantly recreating himself, so I’m not going to give full detail on all of them.

At sixteen he went to work as a streetcar conductor, but later that year he lied about his age and joined the United States Army as a wagoner (teamster) in the second occupation of Cuba. After being honorably discharged he got a job at Southern Railway and while there got involved with union affairs but was fired after helping a fellow worker (got to love a union man.) He then worked at several rail companies for a number of years and studied law by correspondence at night. After getting fired from the railway for brawling with a coworker, he began to practice law in Little Rock, Arkansas, but that career was also cut short by brawling, this time with his own client in a courtroom (I guess he was giving them their rights AND lefts.) He then starting selling insurance, but was fired for insubordination. In 1920 he established a successful ferry boat company on the Ohio River, and that morphed into a job as secretary at the Chamber of Commerce in Columbus, Indiana. He recognized that he wasn’t very good at that job and resigned (probably so he didn’t get into another brawl). He tried his hand as a small business man and as a salesman, but neither stuck. He got a great deal managing a gas station where he started selling country ham, steaks, and of course fried chicken (finally, I didn’t think we were ever going to reach the chicken) to supplement his income. Even this wasn’t without some troubles as he was involved in a shootout with rival competitor that killed one of his employees. This didn’t seem to be much of a black mark though, and in 1935 he was commissioned as a Kentucky Colonel, which is not a military position, but rather more like a brand ambassador for the state of Kentucky (I’m going to risk internet ire and say it’s handled somewhat similarly like a modern knighthood in Great Britain.) He even got a favorable mention by famous food reviewer Duncan Hines (who himself later started a food company.)

In 1940 at the age of 50, he finally perfected his “Secret Recipe” of 11 herbs and spices and the use of a pressure fryer to quickly fry chicken without over cooking. In 1952 he started franchising his method with the first official KFC opening in Salt Lake City (I regret not stopping in when I was there a couple years ago.) I’m going to stop here with the biography because I have clearly failed in making it brief, so let’s move on to the review itself.

I’ll start with the packaging. While it doesn’t say KFC or Kentucky Fried Chicken on it, the Colonel’s face and signature red and white stripes do mean this is a licensed and approved product. There is also a handy visual key for the flavors with light brown speckled Fried Chicken, bright yellow Sweet Corn, and brownish orange Gravy. Of course, the little clear window proves this to be a filthy lie, since clearly Fried Chicken is pink with speckles, Sweet Corn is a wan almost translucent yellow, and Gravy is a dark yellow. Time to open the package…

Oh $#!*, (sorry for the grawlix, I’m still not allowed to swear here), I have made a grave error in judgment. This is one of the worst smelling things I’ve ever had (limburger cheese still holds that honor.) It’s was like the malodorous offspring of an anime convention and a tire fire. Hot garbage and petrochemicals. Is it too late for me to back out now? No, I’m a big brave boy, and I can do this! Surely the anemic yellow ones (Sweet Corn) won’t be strong enough to hurt me, I’ll start there. Hurray, they are bearable! They also lack a strong odor, which means the other two must be the culprits. They taste like someone boiled corn for hours and then tossed in some generic butter substitute (“I can certainly believe it’s not butter!”)

Next up, is the darker yellow ones that remind me of the gallstones I had removed (Gravy, if the packaging is to be believed.) Speaking of hospitals, they smell like human suffering and sickness. These are pretty bad. I’ll admit I’ve never had a good relationship with gravy, but I had reached a level of acceptance. These violate the tenuous peace I’ve reached. I’m not sure if they taste of gravy at all or if it is because I know they are supposed to be gravy. Categorically I suppose they could be called savory, but there is nothing to savor about them. It’s almost like a Zen riddle, salty but without salt. To make matters worse, the taste lingers. Scratch that, the taste doesn’t linger, the sick feeling they engender lingers. I’m going to take a little break, get some fresh air, and then come to the final boss with a (hopefully) clear palate.

Alright, moment of truth, Fried Chicken. I’m not sure on what planet fried chicken is pink with blood red flecks, but they look like something that was painfully harvested. The smell alone makes me want to gag (in 80’s fashion, with a spoon). They smell sour, like an old band-aid. The taste is worse, there is a slightly meaty undertone, but the predominant flavor is rancid grease. Not only does horrible taste stick around, it also repeats. Thirty minutes later, I’m still getting fouled oil flavored burps. Did this KFC get shut down by the health department? Normally you’d think of a candy maker as cheerful job, something that brings happiness to children and adults alike, but whoever greenlit this clearly has a deep abiding hatred for humanity. Can someone call the Hague to add a few more people to their war crimes list?

Of course, people don’t always eat their jellybeans individually, so to complete my testing, I’m going to try all three flavors at once (if this kills me, I wish to be entombed in a huge ziggurat.) This is really surprising, while it’s certainly not good (so far, far away from good) but the flavors seem to battle each other more than they fight me. The end result is just a generic “bad” rather than the triumvirate of malevolence that I was expecting. I’m just nauseous, as opposed to the immediate chundering that seemed inevitable.

Since misery love company, and I’m just a bad person, I decided to take my far too many bags (one is too many, but I had to order a three pack online before I found them in stores) out and passed them around at a local brewery. I even handed some out to the band that was playing. It wasn’t just me; they were universally reviled. The band even stopped the show to say that they tasted like Colonel Sanders feet and worse than the Rotten Egg flavored Bertie Botts beans. Needless to say, I’m not welcome there anymore, but I’m certain everyone will forget in a couple weeks (probably months if I’m honest.)

Do I really need a conclusion? These are terrible, and I imagine the only reason they came out is because they are trying to prove life after death by making Colonel Sanders so angry that he returns to the land of the living to fight whoever thought these were a good idea.

I also want to share some non-review related news and say that I have received my first piece of fan mail, so I want to thank Scott S. of Pennsylvania for sending me a sweet skull shaped knife block. I guess he realized that my spouse and I are indeed a skull household, probably from the pattern on my silverware. To quote Ministry, “every day is Halloween.” My boss didn’t pass along your contact info, so I hope you don’t mind public thanks. 

I found them on Amazon, but Five Belo