The stuff called fast food

No matter where you are in England, there is one type of neon sign that shines brighter than the neon sign of McDonald’s.

That is the neon sign of the kebab / bacon buttie / fish and chip van. Whichever countryside you’re in, whatever public holiday it is, these vans are there. Persistently wafting the smell of bacon and fried eggs in your direction, hoping that someday, you’re give in to the delicious smell and buy something.

Oh OK then. Gimme a bacon sandwich. With an egg. Some mushrooms. Maybe a sausage. And how about some onions.

The gourmet fast food to beat all other inferior, copycat fast food. Soft chewy bread (no doubt bought in bulk and costing about 5p), bacon rashers and lots of tomato sauce. One of those things you have to eat on the way somewhere because at least, then you have an excuse, saying ‘Oh I was on the way there and was hungry’ instead of ‘I stopped at this stall which is not really on the way to anywhere just to get a sausage sandwich.’

If you’re gonna have fried chicken from KFC, you might as well have it from a KFC which has won awards in 1997 and 2000. Which is what KFC Greenwich on Trafalgar Road is. An award-winning fried chicken restaurant.

I don’t know what standards these awarding people give their points on, but from the 10 times or so I’ve been to this KFC, the standard has been consistently good.

Perhaps there is something to the awards after all.

This was a Zinger Tower Meal, and for about £5, you get a Zinger Burger, 2 hot wings (very nice, crispy batter with spice and crispy even after half an hour), fries, a choice of either baked beans or coleslaw and a drink.

Not bad for food that is fast.