Taco Hell's Crispy Chicken Catastrophe

There are times when a part of me is glad that my elderly Mexican grandmother lives in a very rural, secluded part of California, just on the border between the United States and Mexico. When I saw the original advertisement for one of Taco Bell’s newest menu additions, the new Crispy Chicken Sandwich Taco, that was very much one of those times.

‘Qué es esa cosa?’ I can imagine her complaining, bearing her signature squinted-eye, judgmental gaze and a scowl drawn upon her lip. If the ad was enough to make me, an English-literature-studying Mexican American, writhe in a fit of cringe, the shock may have been enough to traumatize my poor traditional Mexican grandmother for the rest of her life.

Taco Bell is an inescapable entity in the world of American consumer culture. Taco Bell’s Americanized take on Mexican cuisine, while wholly inauthentic, has successfully created a fast food empire that continues to thrive to this very day, even 59 years after its flagship location’s initial opening. But, why?

As one would expect from a “Mexican” restaurant established by a white man, that there has never been any items on their menu that are evocative of real hispanic street cuisine, with the exception of the quesadilla. All of the menu items consist of tortillas, ground beef, beans, rice, and cheese arranged in different, but only slightly varying forms, all within one shared, Caucasian flavor palate. It doesn’t carry the seasoning, freshness, and bite present in genuine Mexican food; instead, replacing those signature characteristics in favor of bland, bleached flour tortillas and off-putting scooped mounds of slimy tomatoes.

Despite having personally experienced some of Taco Bell’s more experimental menu items within the past several years (much due to pure curiosity), I still found myself speechless after the first time I saw the Crispy Chicken Sandwich Taco.

It contained none of the traditional Taco Bell ingredients and was quite minimalist in nature: simply a taco-shaped bun, a strip of chicken, and a squirt of some type of creamy, spicy sauce. It bore no produce, no toppings, no real pizzaz. It may have not had the flavor profile to be reminiscent of traditional Taco Bell, but the low $1.49 price point and the absurd idea in itself reminded otherwise. It was possibly the farthest thing from a “taco” I had ever seen, and that’s why I needed to try it.

But, just as with all things from the Taco Bell kitchen, I’ve found that once you’ve seen the ad, you’ve experienced the most exciting thing the food has to offer. When I unwrapped my Crispy Chicken Sandwich taco, I was somehow more disappointed in Taco Bell than I had even been prior. It was just— plain.

The tortilla-shaped “bun” wasn’t quite a bun, but more resembled a flavorless and slightly more doughy version of a pita bread. If I had tried to press my fingers into the bread, I’m sure my imprints would’ve held for a second before rising back into its original shape, as if it was an edible piece of memory foam fashioned into the shape of a taco shell.

At first glance, the chicken strip was easily the most enticing aspect of the taco. Though it was quite small, it was golden brown and smelt of spice, which most likely was due to the jalapeño buttermilk mixture the chicken was 'marinated' in. When I took my first bite, I was also surprised to be met with a genuine crunch from the chicken’s “tortilla-chip coating.” The spice in the breading was evident but not overwhelming, the moistness was present in the chicken, and the crispiness of the breading was undeniably impressive. But, the taco didn’t taste like much else aside from that.

The sauce, which the Taco Bell website clarifies as ‘Chipotle Sauce,’ was barely present in my taco. Only a small drizzle coated the bottom of the bun, ensuring that my taco stayed fully dry and unexciting. When I did manage to taste the sauce, I found it carried far more sweetness than it did spice; it was somewhat reminiscent of Chick Fil A sauce in color, consistency, and flavor. Though it was underwhelming on the taco, if the sauce had been matched with a more traditional-type chicken sandwich, I believe it would’ve been quite a tasty compliment to the meal.

And that was it. There was no other toppings adding to the experience of the taco; not a touch of hot sauce or even a single strand of cheese. The taco was finished within three bites, and in the aftermath I only found myself feeling more confused than satisfied. Never in my life had I tried a new menu item from Taco Bell and been surprised by how off-kilter, yet boring and inoffensive it was.

Taco Bell’s experimentation in the chicken sandwich world isn’t successful by any means— the awful “bun” and the chipotle sauce ensure that much. Yet, it doesn’t carry the tired tropes of Taco Bell cuisine, and the chicken was easily one of the most impressive things I’ve consumed that has come from a Taco Bell kitchen.

While I went into this experience expecting to be offended by what is possibly the strangest food item to ever be tokened as a “taco,” Taco Bell’s Crispy Chicken Sandwich taco just doesn’t carry the impact to make any kind of statement whatsoever, except that maybe it would be within Taco Bell’s best interest to take the initiative to add fried chicken to the permanent menu. As one would probably expect from a taco costing less than $2, I walked away from the experience feeling almost as if I had eaten nothing at all.

Possibly the biggest crime perpetrated by this culinary abomination is that it establishes that the chefs in charge of the Taco Bell menu have both never consumed authentic Mexican food, nor have they ever had a proper chicken sandwich. And for that, I cannot help but offer my greatest condolences.

3/10