Honduras, as I have stated previously, has the best fried chicken in the world (or at least among the places in the world I have visited). Yet rather perversely, Honduras features every known American fast food fried chicken joint that has ever existed, which amounts to a shameless betrayal of la patria's own incredible and uniquely satisfying contribution to this comfort dish that is relished all around the cosmos. Far too many Hondurans I know would rather go eat at an American chain restaurant for their pollo frito than at the place right down the street that does not have glossy menus displayed overhead, spic and span formica tables, and an actual separation between the kitchen and the eating area.
I would never dare set foot inside a KFC anywhere again after I got wicked bad diarrhea in Guadalajara, Mexico, in 2000 from eating a Colonel's special. KFC is by far the chicken equivalent of Starbucks- an over-inflated brand that is much more hype than substance, as ubiquitous around the globe as throat cancer. Church's fried chicken tastes like a rubber band that has been soaked in white vinegar for three weeks. But Popeye's- I have to admit I have a weak spot for this joint. Maybe it's their ridiculously buttery biscuits, or the vaguely spicy crispiness of the chicken itself, or the side of red beans and rice that lend the whole thing an appealingly superficial Nawlin's flair. In any event, I had to post at least one photograph of Popeye's in Honduras. I would never tell the master chef at Comedor Lela that I even thought about eating there, however.
