You Will Truck the !!!! out of World Street Kitchen

wsk
The best sandwich I’ve ever had. That would be quite a label, wouldn’t it? Of all my 32 years on Earth, most of which has been spent with food in front of me, how absurd would it be for me to point at one sandwich and tell you, “Not a single sandwich I’ve ever had has been as good as THIS ONE RIGHT HERE.”

Well, my chum Ducky and I stopped into World Street Kitchen last week, and … I’m not going to jump off a cliff and tell you the Moroccan Fried Chicken sandwich I had was the best of my life, but I also couldn’t tell you with confidence it wasn’t.

This thing is … I mean, it’s just …

The Basics: World Street Kitchen is nestled right between busy sectors of Lyndale Avenue in Uptown Minneapolis. Across from a yoga studio and an art materials store the size of a K Mart, you could miss it if you aren’t paying attention. Hit the website here – great photos on their front page, as well as what appears to be the entire history of their Twitter feed.

WSK boasts a food truck as well, and they are very good about telling you its location via Twitter.

Ducky jerked us to a stop in front of WSK on a Tuesday evening, one that didn’t see a lot of traffic inside the restaurant. The word “kitchen” fits perfectly in its name, and is the first good descriptor of its metal-driven interior. The famous EAT WSK lights and a row of colorful paintings charge up what’s an otherwise toned-down room.

Low-hanging studio lights hover below a pipe-filled ceiling. I’m not talking “every other fricking restaurant in Minneapolis” ceiling pipes; I’m talking … remember that obnoxious screensaver everyone had back in the day? It was almost like that.

A man holding a pint of beer in a restaurant

The menu is full of items that arouse the curiosity, so much that I changed my food AND my beer orders at the last second. I started with lamb belly tacos and audibled to the MFC – Moroccan Fried Chicken – and switched pints to a Day Tripper Ale from Minneapolis-based Indeed Brewery. Ducky ordered a falafel “burger,” and we took seats at a bar surface akin to that of an unpainted car.

The metal bar stools reminded me of the chairs in my high school shop classroom. Etch a few swear words and spill some paint onto them and they’d fit right in. An underrated feature of this restaurant is the self-serve water station that makes life easier for patrons and servers alike. Yours constantly-drinking-waters truly thinks this ought to become restaurant standard.

The food arrived in the snack boats you would expect from the food truck, with a bottle of sriracha. The MFC was perfectly-named — two slabs of fried chicken hung out of a KFC biscuit-esque bun. Carrot strings poked out from under the roof, and a light slather of feta cheese sauce dribbled out under the chicken.

The first bite had to be scratched because I didn’t allow any cool down time, and was rewarded with a mouthful of steam. I revisited my beer, recomposed myself, and went back in.

O. M. G. Let’s really get in on this thing.

A Moroccan fried chicken sandwich in a basket at a restaurant in Minneapolis, Minnesota

If KFC’s chicken tasted even remotely like this, I would have been dead from it years ago. This sandwich advances everything you like about fried chicken and biscuits, whilst being completely clean of the negatives.

Lace your bites with sriracha and it’s just unfair. I can’t think of fried chicken the same way ever again. Oh, and it’s less than $10.

How was Ducky’s “burger:” “I can’t even describe it. It’s just … no grease, but … the flavors … you’ve gotta try it, man.” So, there you have it.

I still catch myself reflecting on the MFC. I’ve never had anything like it. I’ve told as many people as I can about the sandwich; and, when a friend revealed she’d had one before, we talked about it for nearly an hour. It isn’t something you just forget; it might not be something I’ll ever forget.

When I think about the greatest sandwiches, Butcher and the Boar’s lobster grilled cheese comes to mind. The cordon bleu, at Goodfellas in Eveleth, comes to mind. Hugo’s in Duluth, and that club subbopotamus, comes to mind. The MFC slides into this without a doubt, but is it the best? I don’t know. I’d have to sit down with all four of these sandwiches and lift them all, bite into them all, taste them all

I need to stop this.

I’m getting all dizzy, my heart’s beatin’ kinda quickly, and my … I, I just need to stop this. It’s a really good sandwich. Just, go do it.