Subject: A KFC Experience at Belval That Was So Bad It Deserves a Place in a Museum of Culinary Regret
Dear KFC Team,
Let me begin by saying that I usually approach fast food with low expectations and an open heart. I don’t ask for miracles, just a warm, edible meal, a clean table, and a staff that sees me as something more than an inconvenient life form making noise at the counter. But our visit to KFC Belval, in the beautiful lands of Luxembourg, which, judging by the product lines, seems mysteriously tethered to the French KFC franchise, managed to fall short of even that modest vision. And not just slightly. We’re talking a culinary crash-and-burn so dramatic it should have ended with a slow zoom-out and sad violin music.
Let’s start at the beginning. We ordered two XL menus. Sounds promising, right? Big meal, big appetite. We were hungry!
Then while ordering, the first punch in the gut: your sauces. Or should I say, your bizarre collection of sauce impostors. It seems someone at HQ decided to play a sadistic little game called “Let’s Replace All the Good Sauces with Confusing Blobs of Sadness.” The best of them all, the legendary Sweet & Sour sauce? Gone. Just like that. Vanished without explanation like a beloved character written off a TV series. So we decided to taste the new options. What we didn’t know at that point in time was that each one was a letdown. Not one worth a second dip. Kicking out the Sweet & Sour was not just a downgrade. It was sabotage of its finest!
Still, we tried to stay optimistic. Maybe the other food would save the day?
Nope.
Let’s begin with the first impression when the food arrives at the table, the first thing you clearly see: the fries. Ah, the fries. They are the first thing you see on your tablet. We ordered XL. What we got was a sad, half-filled portion that could barely, and I mean barely, pass for a medium, if we’re being generous. Quantity aside, they were also hard. Not crispy-hard, just old-hard. Like they’d been left out to contemplate life and regretted being potatoes.
I was hoping that my Kentucky BBQ Bacon burger could cover this downside. My burger should come with what KFC boldly promotes as crispy bacon. What I actually received was something closer to soft, lukewarm meat ribbon. Not crispy. Not crunchy. Not even curly, and most importantly: barely cooked. You advertise crispness; I got flopness. Even the cheese wasn’t melted yet. Worse, the burger was even aggressively salty. So salty that I managed only about two-thirds of it before deciding my kidneys deserved a longer life. It was the kind of saltiness that makes your jaw tingle and your will to live question its choices. And I mean even without the bacon… still too salty. With it? It would have been a sodium nuke.
You know the proverb “Hope dies last”, well I hoped at least the onion rings could fill my belly… but they were soggy, pale, and uninspired. I left half behind, and I never leave food behind unless it’s trying to hurt me. These onion rings were crying for help. Quietly. From inside the batter.
The drink? Mojito Sprite. Cute idea. In reality, it tasted indistinguishable from regular Sprite, except maybe for the faint ghost of someone having once whispered the word “mojito” near it.
Now, the only thing that did hold up were my partner’s filet tenders. But even they had no stage to shine on, because all the decent sauces were in sauce heaven, and their replacements? A joke. And not a good one. One of those jokes you tell, and then nobody laughs, and everyone just politely sips their drink and stares at the table.
But the real star of this tragic performance was your staff. Or more specifically, the “manager”. After this long list of misfires, I decided to speak up. I approached him respectfully, even began by praising how delicious KFC in Germany always is. I mentioned how we regularly eat at the one in Saarbrücken and it’s consistently amazing. But instead of listening, he cut me off with this gem: “KFC Germany is KFC Germany. KFC Belval Luxembourg is KFC Belval Luxembourg.” And for someone who proudly says “Here is here, and Germany is Germany”, maybe then we should stop speaking French in Luxembourg too and instead speak its beautiful native language, which is Luxembourgish, no? You can’t have this statement both ways to be honest! And me too when I came to this country as a foreigner I had to adapt to it and its language. Anyways. It’s not what I demand, but I didn’t realize KFC now comes in regionally randomized quality levels. “Finger lickin’ good” now apparently depends on your GPS coordinates.
So I continued and told him about the raw bacon. He said that’s how bacon is. Really? That’s odd, because your own promotional images show crispy, curled perfection, not translucent strips that flail sadly under a bun. Same as for the cheese. So I mentioned the insane salt levels in the burger, even though I have eaten it without the bacon, since this one was raw. He shrugged. I brought up the half-empty, hard fries. Another shrug. I pointed out the missing sweet & sour sauce. He said it’s not his decision. I asked him to pass the feedback along. And his answer? “It won’t make a difference.”
Let me repeat that: It won’t make a difference!!!
Not exactly the brand values Colonel Sanders stood for, is it? Where is the pride in your work? Where’s the hospitality? Where’s the minimum effort to care? This is the best example how a manager clearly should NOT be!
And as a final attempt at salvaging something from this experience, I told this manager that I want to order a Nutella ice cream for my partner. As I did he looked at me like I was trying to rob the store with a spoon. I had to tell him, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay it.” That’s how absurd his look with that long pause felt. So I paid for it myself, of course, because after listing all these issues, no apology was offered, no symbolic one and worse, not even a spoken one. No “sorry,” no voucher, not even a free scoop of vanilla.
This is a perfect example of how a manager clearly should NOT be! I know it, because we are running our own business and would never ever have acted like this. A great manager, not only one truly worthy of wearing the Colonel’s badge but a great manager in general, would have listened fully first. No interruptions, no excuses. Just present attention, with a calm, friendly and open face, maybe even taking notes. Because when a customer is unhappy, that’s not a personal attack, it’s an opportunity to fix, improve, and serve better.
Then he’d have responded with empathy, not defensiveness. Something like: “I’m really sorry your visit didn’t meet expectations. That’s not how we want anyone to feel when they come here.”
He would’ve acknowledged each point, even if he couldn’t fix everything on the spot. Even if the customer is being rude.
For the missing sauce?
“Yes, I understand. That was a popular one. I’ll pass your feedback to the product team, honestly, you’re not the first to mention it.” Even if nothing happens further.
For the undercooked bacon and salty burger?
“That’s absolutely not what it should be like. Thank you for telling me, I’ll check with the kitchen right away. And I’d be happy to replace it or offer you something else you enjoy.”
He might have offered a free dessert, a voucher, or simply a warm gesture “Please, let me offer you that ice cream today as a small apology.” Not that I would have needed it, because I can pay very well for my own things… No need for that!
But most importantly, he would have made you feel seen. Heard. Respected. Even if nothing else could be undone, you would’ve left feeling that someone actually cared about your experience, and about improving the place.
That’s what a great manager does: He makes even a bad moment feel human. Because that’s what we are in the end! We are humans, we make errors. All of us!
We have a saying in Luxembourg, it’s the same as in Germany too, since these two countries are not only neighbours but are also closely tied together from their cultural perspective: “Der Kunde ist König” which means the customer is king. Sadly, here I felt more like a court jester, paying to be insulted. At least in Germany, the KFC staff treat you with kindness and the food lives up to its name.
⸻
A Brief Note for Kings Acting Unkingly, and Staff Who’ve Mistaken Aprons for Thrones
“The Customer is King” explained, because even Kings shouldn’t throw fries and neither should staff use their aprons as weapons.
Four words that have justified more unreasonable behavior than a toddler at a candy store. Whispered by trembling staff, shouted by red-faced monarchs of the checkout queue, and printed boldly on signs next to lukewarm coffee machines.
But let’s not get carried away with the velvet cloak and scepter just yet.
You see, this phrase was never intended to grant divine right to slam counters, speak like a Game of Thrones villain, or demand ten extra sauces with a “chop chop, peasant!” It was meant to inspire service, yes. But not servitude. It meant: treat people well, like you’d treat a guest in your castle or your home. Even if they just ordered a Zinger burger.
And yes, on the other side, employees should treat customers not like walking stress symptoms, but like human beings with needs, hopes, and (sometimes) terrifying sauce preferences. That’s fair.
But, and here comes the twist, even kings should respect rules.
A real king doesn’t hurl his goblet at the soup boy because the gravy’s a little thin. He doesn’t call for execution over a single soggy fry. He doesn’t glare at the jester when the jokes don’t land (okay maybe a little glare). A good king, the kind we actually like, shows respect. He knows that behind every burger, every mop, every smile, is a person keeping the kingdom from falling into grease and ruin.
And sure, customers pay salaries. But so does every boss ever, and even they’re not allowed to shout at people and get away with it. That’s not how dignity works. That’s how memes are made.
So what does “the customer is king” really mean? It means a mutual coronation. One hand offers good service. The other doesn’t slap it away while asking to speak to the manager’s manager’s manager. It means: one hand washes the other. Preferably with soap.
Because in the end, we’re all just people trying to enjoy a warm meal, without salt-induced comas, disappointing Sprite, or a manager who shrugs like he’s allergic to accountability.
⸻
In summary: the food was bad, the sauces were gone, the fries were a scam, the burger a raw and salty disaster, the onion rings were sad, the drink was false advertising, and the customer service? Utterly tone-deaf. This was not just disappointing. It was depressing. It was culinary nihilism. And the cherry on top? We drove 54 kilometers, one way, for this salty tragedy, because this is the nearest one we have where we live. Two hungry pilgrims seeking the Holy Chicken, only to find soggy fries, limp bacon, and the ghost of a once-great sauce. Honestly, I’d rather drive the full 86 kilometers to Saarbrücken again, where the food is still divine and the staff actually smiles.
I don’t think even one star is justified for this visit. And I sincerely hope someone at KFC reads this and remembers: a franchise is only as good as its worst location.
Colonel Sanders would weep.
So, long live kindness. Long live crispy bacon. And may our next fast-food quest end in victory.
Sincerely,
stean.ART
