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Weekend grub: Clucky’s might become your go-to place for fried chicken
As a 90s kid in Karachi, I would get fried chicken from one, and one place only: good ol' KFC in grease-stained cardboard buckets smelling like mon salwa.
I vividly remember eating it: tearing the coating off in big, fat chunks, tasting the spicy, salty grease, shredding the white meat underneath with my oily fingers and delivering it to my anxiously waiting mouth. It was heavenly.
Despite its inconsistent performance, KFC has been more of a nostalgic indulgence ever since.