I'm not ashamed to say it. I love Taco Bell. Given the choice between a nacho cheese chalupa and Kobe Beef filet mignon, I'll take the crunchy, gooey, suspiciously cheesy goodness of a chalupa any day.
While I can't explain my borderline obsessive affinity for the faux Mexican food, I know I'm not alone in taco heaven. Since the new Taco Bell/KFC opened on King Street in Northampton earlier this month, it's been besieged by hungry diners who are willing to wait for their "fast" food in 25-minute lines just to get a dollop of that seasoned beef-type product, that fluorescent orange cheese sauce.
The question remains, though, why? What is so irresistibly good about Taco Bell that people, myself included, would spend an almost ridiculous amount of time waiting to get it?
I decided to do some research. A friend and I met up at the restaurant. My plan was to sample a cross-section of food and size up the clientele, hopefully gaining some insight as to what kind of people got addicted to Taco Bell.
I parked in the one remaining spot—besides the spots for hybrids and people car pooling. (This King Street restaurant purports to be the first ever eco-friendly Taco Bell/KFC, with solar panels, natural light harvesting, and water conservation practices. That, however, didn't seem to be the attraction that made the restaurant so hard to access you'd have thought food was being given away inside.) My friend Meaghan had to drive three circles around the joint before she landed a spot. Once inside, though, we didn't have much of a wait—two or three minutes, maybe. As soon as we got our food, however, the line was 13 deep and backed up out the door.
For only $11.74 we got a four-piece chicken quesadilla, one crunchy taco, one nacho cheese chalupa, one beef soft taco, one small popcorn chicken, one medium fountain beverage and one large fountain beverage. Though the price is certainly right, I thought, that can't be the only reason the drive-through line has been stopping traffic on King Street. I mean, Mickey D's and its dollar menu are right next door!
So we pressed on in our efforts to analyze this crack-like addiction many people have to Taco Bell. I remembered that I am indeed one of those people the moment I bit into one end of my nacho cheese chalupa. I felt a rapture as nacho cheese and beef squirted into my open, salivating mouth. With each satisfying crunch of the chalupa shell (it's soft on the inside, crunchy on the outside), I was transported further into a state of bliss. Shit, man, this stuff is like crack, I thought.
When I had inhaled enough of my beefy treat to take a moment to breathe, I looked over to see if Meaghan was in a taco trance as well. Halfway through her soft beef taco, eyes glazed over, she leaned across the table.
"It's so flavorful," she whispered in awe. "It's like somehow they actually got the sauce just right on the beef."
We continued eating our meal in a reverent silence, paying homage to the taco gods—ungainly teenagers who had hand-crafted our lunch. Even as my stomach filled close to bursting, I continued to eat. I couldn't stop. I used lettuce like a sponge to soak up stray gobs of nacho cheese. My hand was like a lizard's tongue as I flicked my wrist and snatched a wayward piece of chalupa shell that I saw Meaghan eyeing.
Then I sat, fuller than I've been in recent memory, licking my fingers contentedly like a satiated cat licking its paws. All thoughts of my "investigation" of the mystery of Taco Bell's popularity fled. I no longer cared why everyone from old ladies and construction workers (even the suits who hid in their Beamers and Lexuses in the drive-through) flocked to Taco Bell like moths to a flame.
Why didn't I care anymore, I asked myself? Three little words: nacho cheese chalupa.
