KFC

Reviews

• AY

  Anum Yousaf

  Sep 26, 2026
  2.0
  Around 4:50 I just walked into the restaurant I placed my order and asked the cashier if I could wait. Still, I want fresh sandwich she refused saying that she couldn’t put 1 sandwich because it's a big machine I asked her twice but the reply was the same and all of the above people don't use GLOVES while making and packing up the order.. The same person was taking orders touching the screen and without washing or using sanitizer she was packing the food upon asking she said they don't use gloves while packing I said okay When I opened my food fries were stale and cold and the burger was fried twice ( mean’s it was already cooked and put the fillet again in the hot oil to make it fresh) it was full of oil very disappointed not recommend it
• MB

  Mani Bhandari

  Sep 19, 2026
  1.0
  We ordered today - 9 pieces family bucket and spend 35 cad and got salty , oily, soggy , fried chicken pieces. We didn't like it at all. We have eaten kfc at other stores , but not like this. Hope they improve their quality soon and realize.
• NN

  Nicholas Norcott

  Sep 16, 2026
  1.0
  Usually my go to KFC, but if that miserable woman that was working on Wednesday at 1:30pm is ever behind that counter, I’m walking right back out. How dare you have that expression and attitude towards customers. Not to mention made me wait 20 minutes on my 30 minute lunch break, without a thank you, good bye or sorry for the wait. Pathetic.
• JO

  Johan Van Oldenbarnevelt

  Sep 15, 2026
  5.0
  The year is 2026, and the craving did not merely arrive; it breached the perimeter of my free will. It was a dark, stormy Tuesday afternoon when the phantom scent of the Colonel’s secret blend of 11 herbs and spices infiltrated my apartment. It bypassed my rational mind, whispered directly to my primal core, and demanded a sacrifice.I tried to resist. I looked at the crisp, depressing spinach rotting in my crisper drawer. I thought of my doctor’s gentle, pleading face. But the Colonel is a master manipulator. Before I could stop myself, I was in my car, driving with the frantic energy of a man escaping a natural disaster, bound headfirst for the glowing red-and-white beacon of Kfc When I stepped up to the counter, the air was thick with the celestial, heavy fog of industrial fryers. The teenage cashier looked at me. I looked at him. No words were spoken, yet a profound, tragic understanding passed between us. He knew I was about to abandon all self-respect. I knew he was the gatekeeper to my undoion."The 10-piece Feast," I whispered, my voice trembling.When he handed over the bucket, it felt warm, heavy, and pulsing with forbidden power. I carried it to a plastic booth like a medieval knight bearing the Holy Grail. I reached in and pulled out a drumstick. The skin was glistening, a deeply fried, golden tapestry of salty sorcery. I took a bite the world faded to black and white, leaving only me and the chicken in high definition. The crunch resonated in my jawline like a symphonic bass drum. For ten glorious minutes, I was not a mere mortal; I was a deity conquering a kingdom of pure grease and unadulterated dopamine. I slathered the mashed potatoes and gravy—a lukewarm, primordial sludge that defies all known laws of physics and culinary science—onto my chicken. I choked down a biscuit that was so catastrophically dry it instantly absorbed the entire water table of my upper respiratory tract, requiring a frantic, choking gulp of Pepsi to save my life. I didn’t care. I was alive! I was invincible! But fast-food triumphs are brief, and the bill always comes due.As I chewed the final, greasy ligament of the eighth piece, the dopamine abruptly evaporated. In its place rushed a wave of profound, crushing existential dread. The high was gone. The reality set in.I looked down at my hands. They were heavily shellacked in a layer of translucent poultry oil. I looked at the graveyard of bones before me. I had traded my cardiovascular future and my dignity for a temporary culinary high. A deep, heavy, shame-induced food coma began to paralyze my lower extremities. My heart beat with a slow, heavy thud... thud... thud... as if trying to pump gravy instead of blood.I realized I couldn't stand up. My phone was on the other side of the table, just out of reach. Panic set in. I was trapped in a suburban KFC booth, immobilized by my own gluttony, sweating out pure sodium. desperately gripped the edge of the table, summoning every ounce of remaining human strength to drag my heavy torso toward my phone to call for medical evacuation. My fingers brushed the screen just as a shadow fell over my booth.I slowly looked up.Standing over me was not the teenage cashier. The air grew ice-cold, smelling faintly of old cardboard and fresh buttermilk. Through my blurred, grease-fogged vision, I saw a pristine white suit, a black string tie, and a cane topped with a golden rooster. A cane that was now pressing firmly against my chest, pinning me to the plastic seat.He leaned down, his spectacles catching the harsh fluorescent light, a terrifyingly serene smile beneath his white goatee. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a fresh, steaming Zinger burger, and dropped it onto they he grease-stained paper in front of me."You didn't think you could leave without trying the new sauce, did you, son?" the old man whispered. My stomach screamed in agony, my heart pleaded for mercy, but my hand, moving completely against my own free will, slowly began to reach for the wrapper.
• PF

  Paria Farzadnia

  Sep 14, 2026
  4.0
  I was pleasantly surprised by how clean the environment was and how fresh and tasty the food was. I ordered a Zinger sandwich with fries and chicken tenders, and everything was hot and fresh! However, the older ladies working there seemed a little annoyed with customers. Maybe they were just tired, which is completely understandable, but it did affect the overall experience a little.

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