My First Real Encounter With Colombian Fried Chicken 

I Didn’t Expect Colombian Fried Chicken To Become A Memory

I’ve eaten fast food in a lot of places — the U.S., Mexico, Canada, airports, highways, small towns — and honestly with many of them it’s the same story: quick calories, forgettable experience. 

Now, I’m from Los Angeles, California and I grew up on Kentucky Fried Chicken (that’s KFC for the younger people), Golden Bird, Pioneer, Church’s, Louisiana and Jim Dandy were all distinctively good, KFC was the most commercial and least favorite, and of course they are global.

Then I visited Colombia. 

Honestly in my first few visits I wasn’t looking for fast-food at all. I wanted authentic comida. It wasn’t until I met my current wife, in Cucuta, that I made my first visit. 

And one afternoon someone told me:
“You haven’t really lived here until you’ve had Frisby.”

I figured it was just another chain restaurant. I wasn’t prepared for what it actually represented.

The First Time I Tried It

We walked into a busy location in the late afternoon. Families everywhere. Kids laughing. Grandparents sitting at tables like it was a Sunday lunch instead of fast food.

That was my first clue something was different.

Fast food in the U.S. feels temporary — like nobody plans to stay long.
Here people were settling in.

Then the tray came out.

Golden chicken, Fries, Yuca, small arepas, and… honey.

I remember asking:
“Why is there honey with fried chicken?”

Everyone just smiled.

The Bite That Made Me Understand Colombia

I dipped it.

And immediately realized this wasn’t “fast food chicken.”
It tasted familiar and new at the same time.

Not salty.
Not greasy.
Soft crunch instead of hard crust.

It tasted… friendly.

That sounds weird, but it’s the only way I can describe it. It felt designed to be eaten while talking, not inhaled while driving.

That’s when I started noticing a pattern in Colombia:
Food here is rarely about speed — it’s about the moment.

Later I Learned The History

I eventually discovered the chain started as a pizza place and accidentally became a chicken restaurant because people liked the chicken more.

And that actually makes sense.

Nothing about it feels engineered in a laboratory. It feels like someone experimented until families liked it — then stopped changing it.

In the U.S., restaurants chase trends.
Here, they protect traditions.

Why Colombians Defend It

Over time I noticed something funny:
People don’t just like it — they’re loyal to it.

You’ll hear things like:

“This tastes like childhood.”
“My mom used to bring this on birthdays.”
“We always stopped here on trips.”

It isn’t competing against other chicken.
It’s competing against memories.

That’s a powerful business model whether intentional or not.

What I Eventually Realized

This restaurant taught me something bigger about Colombia:

Many things here aren’t optimized for efficiency.
They’re optimized for comfort.

And once you adjust to that mindset, you stop asking
“Is this fast?”
and start asking
“Is this enjoyable?”

That shift changes how you experience the country entirely.

My Honest Take

If you come expecting American fast food, you might think it tastes lighter.

If you come open to a different philosophy, you realize it’s not lighter — it’s calmer.

That’s the best word for it.

And honestly, now when I go back to the U.S., fried chicken feels aggressive.

Full cultural explanation:
(Link to Colombian Vibe article)