Streetside: My Old KenTaco Home

Who could forget when the KenTacoHut opened at 119th Street and Metcalf, back in the nineties? Lots of people, probably. Lots of people probably forgot that. But I have not! What a hedonistic thrill it was to order a Personal Pan and a chalupa in the same building, for the same meal. It felt like the future. Talk about thinking outside the bun.

In early December, I received an interesting press release, which is almost an oxymoron. But here it was, a good one: “OVERLAND PARK KFC/TACO BELL REOPENS FOLLOWING NEARLY $3 MILLION RENOVATION.”

I wasn’t aware the original KenTacoHut had closed. My mind traveled back to Overland Park in the nineties, yes, but also to three years ago, on a drive home from Minneapolis with a couple of friends. It was getting late, and we had been hungry for a long time, so we pulled off Interstate 35 into some nowhere town near the Iowa-Missouri border. It was Sunday night, and our food options were limited. In the end, it came down to KFC and some local place that I recall (probably falsely) being named Cooter’s Kitchen. Ordinarily, Cooter’s would be the obvious choice: more adventurous, a better story for later. But we were exhausted, and Cooter’s looked menacing in the dark, like the kind of place where they might lock the doors and beat the shit out of the three goofball city slickers who’d arrived in a Kia hatchback. So we chickened out — literally — and drove to the KFC.

When I sat down and tried to start writing about this, I found that I could not recall with much specificity what transpired at the KFC that night. I remember oppressive lighting. I remember a meal eaten more or less in silence. I remember an unpleasant staff. I remember shoving the contents of my mostly full tray into the trash and walking out the door. But not much else. I now believe I have blocked out certain parts of the experience in a subconscious effort to protect myself from truths revealed in that restaurant.

I do know that, back on the highway, we agreed that it was among the worst and most depressing meals we’d ever eaten — no small feat; I am constantly eating terrible food at terrible places — and I vowed never to eat at a KFC again.

Then a few years passed, Donald Trump was elected president, and during his campaign of terror he was photographed eating a bucket of KFC with a nasty smile on his face. I recalled my vow and praised myself. You were right to make that vow, I nodded. You’re principled. You have strong values.

But the press release was too tempting. And my newsman’s instincts told me that this was the kind of content our readers crave. I messaged those two friends from the road trip and proposed a reunion with the Colonel. Anything for a story.

The new KenTaco — notably, minus the Hut — promised modern amenities. The release stated that the renovation is part of a larger strategy to rebrand 70 percent of KFC’s locations. They call this rebrand the “American Showman” design. The KenTaco, I was promised, would boast “a completely customized design aesthetic, exclusive food offerings, and is the first and only location to feature KFC’s virtual reality training game.”

A Mix 93.3 van was parked outside the entrance, blaring the hits of today, as the four of us thirtysomething men — we’d recruited one more — tumbled out of our idiot clown car. It was a Saturday, and the place had been open for a few days. A “Grand Opening” banner attached to the building flapped in the wind.

Few things are as amusing as a behemoth corporate brand attempting a makeover in the hopes of endearing itself to a younger and hipper demographic. By these standards, the KenTaco was a raging success. They sell Urban Outfitters-y t-shirts there with phrases like “If You Don’t Like Taco Bell, You’re Wrong” emblazoned across them in trendy fonts. There’s also a life-size Colonel Sanders statue for selfie-taking, natch. Also, a book about the founder of Taco Bell. It’s called Taco Titan.

Inside, it’s nice and white, and the staff was very friendly, and there are several flat-screen TVs for watching sports while you enjoy your Volcano Tacos. On one of the TVs, two obscure college football teams were battling it out in the New Orleans Bowl.

“New Orleans Bowl,” I said. “Sounds like a KFC menu item.”

Pleased with my little joke, I turned back around for a look at the screen and found myself face to face with a man in a hat carrying an old-timey tray filled with a variety of dipping sauces, mints, toothpicks, napkins, and other such items. Would we like any of his complimentary wares? I selected a fun-size tub of creamy buffalo sauce and dipped my chicken leg in it. I’d do it again!

The virtual reality escape room game wasn’t up and going when we were there, so I was unable to experience how deeply stupid that thing surely is.

But, of course, what you really want to know is what we ordered. Bryan spent a total of $5 for KFC hot wings (“too dry”) and an iced tea. I suspect Bryan ate before we left, which in my eyes renders his opinions basically moot. Dan ordered off the Taco Bell value menu — Fritos burrito, Chipotle Chicken Loaded Griller, Potato Soft Taco — but still somehow spent $6. “They act like it’s a dollar menu,” Dan said, “but really all the stuff is more like two dollars.” We nodded in agreement.

Konnor, who I came to suspect actually likes KFC, spent $8.72 on a “big box” of chicken that came with coleslaw and gravy. I spent in excess of $11. I took six or seven bites of the chicken in my two-piece meal, then tossed it aside for my Dorito Locos Taco kicker. I later finished my KFC biscuit and mashed potatoes. For dessert, I planned to order from the special KFC bakery. But it’s just the regular KFC biscuits with sugary glazes on top. Instead, I got three chocolate chip cookies, ate one, and generously distributed the other two to my friends. They were bad.

As we drove away, I asked the group for some feedback, hoping for an insight I could incorporate into my eventual column. What did we find interesting about the KenTaco? There was a long pause.

“There’s two separate drive-thrus,” I ventured, pointing at the separate windows. “One for each. That’s something, I guess.”

More silence. The layout inside the KenTaco is sort of a split-level setup, where you can walk down a half-flight of stairs to an eating area, or walk up a half-flight of stairs to a different eating area.

“There’s two…floors,” Konnor said.

“Hmm,” I said. “I’m not sure if there’s enough here for a column.”