A fast food restaurant whose primary entree is a myriad of chicken sandwichs, chicken nuggets, and just about everything else that you can make out of chicken, except plain old chicken. Chick-fil-A is a good place to work for because they are always closed sundays, infuriating the hordes of hungry murderous meat eaters.

The Chick-fil-A sandwich, the linchpin of the whole enterprise, is one of my favorite things in the world. It consists of a fileted, seasoned chicken breast, cooked in peanut oil in a pressure cooker, served on a lightly toasted, lightly buttered bun with two pickle chips. Even if you don't like pickles, I highly recommend you have them on the sandwich when it's served to you. You can take them off yourself, but the initial presence of the pickle juice adds to the overall flavor.

To the best of my knowledge, Christianity doesn't spread through handling food, so it's probably okay to eat there regardless of your beliefs. (Though a recent meal at an Indian restaurant did leave me with an urge to kill in the name of Kali, so maybe I'm wrong.)

And the waffle fries are good.

Chick-fil-A's official company policy on hiring is (and I quote from personal experience as I used to work for them -- I was told this at my interview): We would never hire homosexuals or atheists as they are contrary to the belief system that Chick-fil-A encompasses.

They are also closed on Sundays world-wide.

Chick-fil-A Dwarf House

Those of you familiar with Chick-fil-A would first look for the Fundamentalist fast-food in a mall, the site of the chain's origin. Or you might head to an -A of the drive-thru type configuration when hunger requires you to seek a greasy timely-dispensing of waffle fries. But what is this third option that Chick-fil-A offers beyond the accustomed one-two of drive-thru and food court? And why is this called a "Dwarf House"?

Dwarf-House — what it isn't: a place where only little people can eat, or where little people can live, or where people of any description can eat only little servings served only by the littlest of Chick-fil-A employees. No.

Dwarf-House — what can we learn from the Chik-fil-A website: Truett Cathy, the founder (some say, flounder) of Chick-fil-A, had opened a very small restaurant in 1946, in Atlanta. It was small, see, so Mr. Cathy named the restaurant Dwarf Grill, which was later renamed the Dwarf House. Even dwarves start small, however, and, after years of tinkering with special herbs and spices, The Founder had a breading the likes of which was yet untasted by the tongues of men. And so to the malls, where the food could be distributed in the most efficient manner possible, and the truth tasted by all the gentle strollers found there. Rather than abandon the smaller Dwarf House chain, Cathy merged the two. SO today Chic-fil-A Dwarf Houses are full service restaurants, where those who long for fast food and table service can be completely and unpresumptiously satisfied. (Closed on Sundays)

Moral of the story: Southerners allow traditions to pile like so many broke-down cars stacked up on cinder blocks in the front yard — that is to say, uselessly and without explanation.

One of those restaurants that you'd love to boycott, but just can't bring yourself to because the food's so darn good.

A quick note to those who want further evidence of The Evil Chick-fil-A Christian Conspiracy: check the cash registers. Somewhere on each one (usually on top of the drawer), you'll find a placard reading "God's Commandment: Thou Shalt Not Steal". It's not always easy to see if you're on the customer's side of the counter.

At least they restrict the evangelism to the employees, I guess. All joking aside, I could almost believe those waffle fries fell from Heaven and landed in the kitchen, they're so good...

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