The Fast Food Plate and Switch

[Guest guest]

Washington Post

By Steve Almond

Sunday, May 17, 2009

When Kentucky Fried Chicken announced several weeks ago that it would be

introducing grilled chicken, urging customers to " unthink KFC " -- and forget

what the " F " stands for -- I felt a thrill that was both involuntary and

deeply embarrassing.

I had become a devotee of Kentucky Fried back in the '80s, when I was a

latchkey teen with an iron stomach. The Colonel's recipe made up an

estimated 70 percent of my caloric intake. But over the next two decades, my

digestive tolerance plummeted, my cholesterol levels spiked, and I cut back.

The last time I partook of KFC was in graduate school during an epic binge.

My friend and I ordered the 10-piece dinner, then managed to sweet-talk

another half dozen pieces from the bored cashier. An hour later, bloated

from the salt and cramping from all the fat, I swore off the stuff.

Why, then, did the Colonel's new, healthier product so entice me?

Because I have a serious weakness for grilled anything. (My wife claims that

I would eat shoe leather if it was properly marinated and grilled.)

As it turns out, I wasn't alone in my curiosity about KFC grilled chicken.

Thanks to a coupon for a free two-piece lunch proffered by Oprah Winfrey on

her Web site and promoted on her show earlier this month, franchises across

the country found themselves overrun by poultry-mad hordes. Apparently the

company underestimated both the power of Oprah's endorsement and the allure

of a free lunch during hard times. Consumers downloaded more than 10 million

coupons, forcing the chain to pull the plug after serving just four million

gratis meals.

Chief executive Eaton appeared on Oprah a few days later to apologize

for the fiasco. But his " apology " was more celebratory than contrite. " We

had very big projection numbers on this, " he noted, " but not in our wildest

imagination could we believe the response we've gotten. "

After all, the whole point of the coupon was to garner attention for the

biggest product launch in company history. Mission accomplished.

But Eaton's real agenda, I suspect, is far more nefarious. Like every other

fast food CEO, he faces a fundamental challenge in this era of nutritional

awareness: how to get folks to eat food that is often astonishingly bad for

them.

One popular strategy is to target populations -- kids, teens and the poor in

particular -- who tend to ignore nutritional warnings. Thus the massive

migration of fast food franchises onto high school and college campuses.

What's more, virtually every fast food chain has used the economic downturn

to drum up sales with dollar menus and other special discounts.

But fast food executives have also found ways to exploit consumer anxieties

over nutrition, by introducing allegedly " healthy " menu options.

These items serve two crucial functions. First, they attract a segment of

the population that otherwise might never set foot in a fast food

restaurant. My friend , for instance, is able to convince his

vegetarian wife to visit Mc's because salads and yogurt parfaits are

on the menu.

Second, these " healthy " options wind up allowing consumers to feel okay

about frequenting what amount to dietary houses of sin. After all, the

barrier to purchase when it comes to fast food isn't cost, convenience or

taste. It's guilt.

And fast food executives are well aware of this psychological dynamic. It's

their job, basically, to draw customers who want to gorge themselves but

know that they shouldn't. I myself have played this game plenty of times. If

I get the Diet Coke and the side salad, I'll have " earned " the large fries.

What's more remarkable is that the very presence of healthy items on a fast

food menu can induce consumers to feel better about ordering a high-fat

alternative.

A recent study of fast food eating habits revealed an effect known as

" vicarious goal fulfillment. " This means that the simple act of considering

a healthy item makes people feel justified in ordering the high-fat option.

Even more astonishing is the fact that the pattern is more pronounced among

eaters who normally exhibit high levels of self-control.

This may come as a revelation to academics, but I'd be willing to bet my

last Whopper that the fast food brass has known about it for years. After

all, their profit margins depend on an acute psychological understanding of

their paying customers.

Mc's most recent quarterly earnings statement tells the whole story.

In these difficult times, they've seen profits climb due to increased sales

of their core products, such as the 410-calorie Quarter Pounder, not their

Garden Salads.

Which brings us back to the KFC grilled chicken that, inevitably, I sampled

a few days ago. The crowds had thinned by the time I showed up, but

promotional banners emblazoned with sumptuous-looking grilled drumsticks

were still flapping overhead.

I hope it will not come as a shock to learn that KFC's " grilling " process

involves no actual flames. Instead, the pieces are baked in a convection

oven and imprinted with faux grill marks. The chicken itself tastes a lot

like the rotisserie you can buy in supermarkets. But it is certainly true

that KFC grilled offers a dramatic caloric improvement over the chain's

Original Recipe. In fact, the fat content of a single Original Recipe breast

(21 grams) is equal to an entire half chicken of the grilled variety.

The problem is that when it came time to order our food, both my wife and I,

rather predictably, fell victim to " vicarious goal fulfillment. "

I gave myself permission to order two sides, mashed potatoes with gravy and

macaroni and cheese. My wife insisted that I get one Original Recipe piece

for her. (It seems those 11 herbs and spices have sentimental value. She and

her girlfriends used to eat KFC to ease the pain of break-ups.) In the end,

our meals tipped the scales at more than 800 calories each. The FDA

considers 2,000 calories to be a normal daily allotment.

KFC's grilled chicken may go on to be a rip-roaring success. But like every

" healthy " option dangled by fast food chains, it's ultimately a gimmick. The

Colonel could care less whether you lose weight, as long as you keep

fattening his wallet.