Tim Carman

Reporter focusing on national food issues; critic covering affordable and under-the-radar restaurants in the D.C. area.


The new Popeyes chicken sandwich, right, with chicken sandwiches from Shake Shack (left) and Chick-Fil-A (top). (Tom McCorkle for The Washington Post; food styling by Lisa Cherkasky for The Washington Post)

Earlier this year, Kanye West complained to Santa Claus — no, check that; it was David Letterman on his Netflix series, “My Next Guest Needs No Introduction” — that liberals often bully Trump supporters such as himself. “We don’t have to feel the same way, but we have the right to feel what we feel,” West told Letterman.

[Yes, the Popeyes chicken sandwich is great. Here’s how it stacks up against the competition.]

Fast forward to Friday, when West dropped his latest album, “Jesus Is King,” an effort described by one critic as a “clear-cut foray into Christian hip-hop.” Among the 11 songs on the album is one titled “Closed on Sunday,” a kind of love letter and sermon on faith, church and Chick-fil-A. Some sample lyrics:

Closed on Sunday, you my Chick-fil-A

Hold the selfies, put the ’Gram away

Get your family, y’all hold hands and pray.

As if to prove that it won’t be bullied by a famous rapper, or the competition, Popeyes announced Monday that it will reintroduce the chicken sandwich that, for a brief moment this summer, united America — mostly in a line of cars at the fast-food chain’s drive-through. Given its widespread appeal, the return of the sandwich was predictable. What was not was the sandwich’s comeback date: Nov. 3. That, in case you haven’t heard, is Sunday.


Chicken on Sundays: Popeyes takes aim at one of its major competitors. (Popeyes)

That’s the day that Chick-fil-A is closed, a tradition that can be traced back to the late founder S. Truett Cathy’s Southern Baptist faith.

If this sounds like a slap across the cheek of Chick-fil-A — a chain repeatedly called out for its support of anti-LGBTQ organizations, even after the company downplayed its conservative agenda — it is. It absolutely is. Popeyes’s short announcement video offers ample evidence.

If you haven’t been following the saga of Popeyes’s chicken sandwich, let’s briefly recap:

• In August, Popeyes unveiled its crispy chicken sandwich, available with pickles on a brioche bun, with either mayonnaise or a spicy Cajun sauce.

• Everyone in the food media swoons over the sandwich (and takes their jabs at Chick-fil-A’s politics).

• The chicken sandwich interloper ruffles the feathers of Chick-fil-A, the third-largest restaurant chain in the United States.

• Popeyes responds with a classic two-word Southern phrase, setting off the summer’s fried chicken sandwich war.

• Popeyes sells so many sandwiches, so fast, that the chain burns through its entire inventory by late August. It hopes to bring the item back “as soon as possible.”

• At least one customer, who wouldn’t accept the bad news, pulls a gun at a Popeyes in Houston, apparently hoping the weapon would make a sandwich magically appear.

• The chain suggests customers could bring buns to Popeyes and build their own sandwich. The eye-rolling emoji gets a workout on social media.

• Two months after the crispy chicken sandwich goes AWOL, Popeyes announces its return via a statement that is two words long. It reads: “I’m back.”

The implication here is clear: The Popeyes chicken sandwich is as big as Michael Jordan in his Airness’s heyday. Certainly bigger than Kanye West.

Read more on Voraciously:

It’s almost Halloween, and ‘feetloaf’ is already giving us nightmares

Want an Anthony Bourdain keepsake? Now’s your chance with an auction of his possessions.

A new survey about American breakfast preferences is stuck in the past

Tim Carman Tim Carman is a food reporter at The Washington Post, where he has worked since 2010. Previously, he served for five years as food editor and columnist at Washington City Paper. Follow