Just Not the Same

I have written a lengthy tribute to one of my favorite parts about North Carolina before, so I will spare you the repeat. It's in my archive if you are dying to read it. The thing I am referring to is Bojangles.

I have been craving Bojangles for about the last three weeks. Well, really, I crave it all the time, but I try not to think of it too often because it lessens my withdrawals. Today, I decided to try to create some homemade Bojangles.

I'm much too lazy to really put a lot of effort into something like this, so I didn't make homemade biscuits or anything, but I did somewhat try to recreate my favorite Cajun fillet biscuit.

I went to Smiths and bought the frozen Pillsbury biscuits (Southern style). This was a tip I got from my mother-in-law, who got it from Prissy. And I'm sorry, even though Chad told me I was being prejudice and only thought they would be better because Prissy said so, HELLO...PRISSY SAID SO. And that girl knows what she's talking about when it comes to things like this!

I also bought some frozen chicken tenders.

I came home and cooked them up.

I even used the last of the Bojangles honey mustard I have been salvaging since Thanksgiving.

I sandwiched my chicken in between two halves of flaky biscuit. I smothered both sides with honey mustard. I took a bite.

And.

It totally wasn't the same.

I so want to be in North Carolina.

The bitter-cold wind that greeted me this morning only further convinces me of this fact.