In the post-pandemic era, it’s easy to understand why we’re craving a little (or a lot) of luxury in our dining experiences.
On TikTok and in trendy restaurants, there’s caviar on everything. We’re embracing the “little treat culture” that celebrates relatively small splurges on pricey lattes or exquisite tins of imported fish. Yet at the same time, prices in restaurants and at the grocery store remain high, driven by inflation and continued supply chain issues, and consumers are feeling pinched.
So what’s a diner with champagne tastes and a beer budget to do? Perhaps head to the unlikely destination of Popeyes, where the fast-food chicken chain has introduced a new menu item designed to scratch that four-star itch we’re collectively feeling. The brand this week began offering its famous spicy chicken sandwich slathered with a mayonnaise whose kick comes not just from red jalapeño but “winter black truffle,” an ingredient that instantly connotes white tablecloths and eye-popping bills.
Advertisement
Truffles, those bits of fungus prized the world over — hunted in the wild by specially trained pigs and dogs, mythologized, sold at auction and often shaved over dishes by waiters at the most exclusive restaurants — are synonymous with luxury. Like caviar, diamonds and private jets, they’re a shorthand for wealth, and not the kind of “stealth wealth” that announces itself to only those in the know — they are a status symbol meant to be seen.
Popeyes is offering the sandwich for $5.99 (that’s what I paid at my nearest location; prices vary), pitching it with a marketing campaign inviting customers to “lean in on being lavish” and a sweepstakes to win a visit to the brand’s sailing “yachtsteraunt” pop-up. To win, people are asked to post videos to social media showing how “fancy” they are when they consume the sandwich.
At a time when the wealth gap feels more like a canyon, one might see something sinister in a massive corporation urging its working-class customers to mimic the trappings of the elite. But let’s assume the new Popeyes overture comes with a wink, a bit of mocking of the crooked-pinkie ethos of the 1 percent. Because if we can’t eat the rich, sometimes it’s fun to pretend like we can eat like them, right? And the new items are a collaboration with Truff, the condiment company known for its playful high-low mash-ups, including a collaboration with grocery staple Hidden Valley Ranch dressing.
Advertisement
But socio-economic implications aside, the bigger question (for the proletariat and bourgeois alike) is how does the new Popeyes sandwich actually taste?
I tried it and, in short, I wouldn’t give it the time of day, even if that did afford a chance to flash a Rolex.
Part of the problem is that the Popeyes original spicy chicken sandwich, which forms the basis of the new iteration, is as close to fast-food perfection as it gets. It went viral in 2019 — creating lines out the door and goading its competitors to (unsuccessfully) try to top it — for good reason. The chicken patty, rusty-hued with smoky spices, has more crags than a Swiss Alp, and its amiable companions, a slather of mayonnaise and some pickles, add just the right backup notes.
To me, the addition of the Truff was as unwelcome as some jerk rolling up in a limo asking if you have any Grey Poupon. The condiment, a spicy mayonnaise, tinted pink by the aforementioned red jalapeño, came in a generous smear to both the top and bottom of the sandwich’s brioche bun. But its flavor did the beloved sandwich no favors. First, I should note that the flavor of truffle is difficult to describe. It’s often said to be earthy, woodsy or akin to mushrooms, falling into the umami-heavy category of tastes (which is another notoriously hard-to-pin-down note). But the Truff suffered the fate of many low-quality truffle-infused oils that restaurants sometimes use to get more bang out of the scarce fungus.
Advertisement
Instead of the ingredient’s trademark pleasant funk, I was met with a tinny, off-putting — and overpowering — tang. It seemed to fight with, not complement, the spices in the chicken. And the combination of pickles and acrid truffle was even more of an odd pairing.
I reluctantly then tried the blackened-chicken version, another sandwich that I genuinely have enjoyed in its classic form, and found more of the same: Another perfectly good thing ruined by an unnecessary lily-gilding. Another spinoff, which added a slice of indeterminate cheese and a few strips of chewy bacon, was even more of a mish-mashed mess.
The novelty factor of experiencing truffles at a drive-through isn’t even enough reason to give it a try. Popeyes isn’t the first fast-food chain to inject truffle into its lineup. Wendy’s tested a burger and fries infused with the decadent flavor in 2016. And Shake Shack last year rolled out a white-truffle menu.
Advertisement
So, my advice to anyone faced with the question from a Popeyes associate — “Would you like to try our new Truff menu?” — would be to channel everyone’s favorite out-of-touch elite, Lucille Bluth. In one episode of “Arrested Development,” she was asked by a waitress at a down-market restaurant whether she preferred “a plate or platter.”
“I don’t understand the question,” Bluth sniffed. “And I won’t respond to it.”
ncG1vNJzZmivp6x7uK3SoaCnn6Sku7G70q1lnKedZLOwu8NoaWlqY2R%2BcXuQcWapp6Caxqa%2FjK2prp6WobJur8eimqSdnmLAorrDsKCcoF2nsre1xLBm