Raising Cane's Chicken Fingers — Restaurant in Shenandoah

It's a chicken tender restaurant.

You really can't compare it to Popeye's or KFC as a whole. You should exclusively think about it in terms of chicken tenders. So, if you're thinking about that only, then you can start to think of chicken tenders from the various places you get chicken tenders from. Maybe it's from a Tyson chicken bag at the grocery store, or maybe it's chicken tenders from a restaurant like Dairy Queen or Denny's or IHOP. Since their main thing is chicken tenders they do not have any great side orders apparently. My chicken tender basket came with coleslaw and to me coleslaw is the worst or laziest thing you can give or serve somebody with any food. They went through all the trouble to make this nice chicken tender. You think they would at least make one signature side dish to really sell/compliment their product more.

I tried the tenders, and on their own without any sauce or anything they taste good to very good, somewhere in between. I wasn't blown away or I didn't feel like I had a religious experience. It was good tasting moist chicken. Then I dipped it into the Raising Cane's sauce, and that added a very nice flavor. I feel like the value for the amount of food that you get is probably Fair, because I was very full after ordering their largest plate. The restaurant was decorated very nicely and I felt like it was much nicer on the inside compared to the last Popeye's or KFC I ate inside. I had to compare it to a Popeye's or KFC here because those were the restaurants that it reminded me of the most on the inside. Furthermore, I liked that the restaurant was named after the owner's dog and the movie posters gave a really nice touch. It's almost as if you were in a slightly higher end restaurant chain like a Fridays or Chili's. I use the restrooms there and they were very clean.

I definitely recommend this restaurant if you have never been before. However, I don't think I'll be coming back here unless a specific set of circumstances occurs. By that I mean, 1, I would have to specifically want chicken tenders and the Cane's chicken tender sauce, and 2, I would have to be near enough to this place that it would not be unreasonable for me to go there. Because I'm not usually near enough to a Raising Cane's to make it worth it, and because I very rarely have a hankering for chicken tenders specifically, I don't see myself coming back here. but if you have never been you should at least try it one...

Rather than engage in a point-by-point response to the textual interpretation of Canes's insults, I want to respond to the more general issue at hand. I want to share this with you because only through education can individuals gain the independent tools they need to spark a powerful student movement that will fight for justice everywhere. But the first step is to acknowledge that I have always been an independent thinker. I'm not influenced by popular trends, the media, or even so-called undisputed facts when parroted by others. Maybe that streak of independence is what first enabled me to see that we can never return to the past. And if we are ever to move forward to the future, we have to let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. Why does Canes want to mete out harsh and arbitrary punishment against its rivals until they're intimidated into a benumbed, neutralized, impotent, and non-functioning mass? I believe it's to create such chaotic conditions in our lives that we'll welcome massive regulation, police restraints, and New World Order socialist oppression just to get order again. If you don't believe me then consider that the problem with Canes is not that it's indecent. It's that it wants to prime the pump of alcoholism.

If Canes would abandon its name-calling and false dichotomies it would be much easier for me to teach the worst types of louche, pertinacious wheeler-dealers there are about tolerance. Canes proclaims that a book of its writings would be a good addition to the Bible. Is it kidding us? Sincerely, the reality is that Canes says it is within its legal right to strip people of their rights to free expression and individuality. Whether or not it indeed has such a right, Canes must have some sort of problem with reading comprehension. That's the only explanation I can come up with as to why Canes accuses me of admitting that its vices are the only true virtues. What I actually said is that you shouldn't let Canes intimidate you. You shouldn't let it push you around. We're the ones who are...

Raising Cane’s has declared war on me and my family, and it is all due to the disrespectful suggestion to “pull-up” past the food drop-off window. We’ve experienced the hardships of “pulling-up” before, but it didn’t scare me enough then. It does now. After ordering a simple enough family meal (five 3-finger combos), we paid, received our drinks, and were subsequently asked to pull up to the front. Out of polite regard for the fast-food production system, we obliged. Our mistake. We waited. And waited. The car behind us received their food and drove off. We still waited. Another car advances, smiling with delight after having received their food. Our patience wore thin. One more, and a fourth. My rage was physically manifesting as an undesirable wax oozing from my ears and nose. The anger became unrelenting; something had to be done. 10 minutes of waiting must be made accounted for. I marched into the building and politely addressed my concerns. The worker I spoke to apologized for the wait and told me that it shouldn’t take more than two minutes. I retreated to my car, my fury slightly remiss. Until I saw yet another car drive off, their uncontainable joy shooting flashing rays out of the exhaust pipe, headlights, and door handles. My eyes melted with anger, dripping down to my stone-stiff hands and moisturizing them with a violent enlightenment. Five minutes passed. The three inexcusable minutes materialized before me as a 3-finger meal, taunting me with its golden deliciousness. As my pinky-toe slowly succumbed to the unified hatred that has now spread to every other part of my body, I heard a conscientious knock at my door window. I rolled it down and saw a worker carrying my food, saying, “Sorry for the wait,” and, “Have a nice day.” I muttered something about how he “had better be sorry” and drove away, a mere shell of the man I once was. The food was good. Don’t tell me to pull up past the window. Next...