Every KFC Side Dish, Ranked From Worst To Best

It's a universal truth that side dishes are just as important as the main meal. The right sides can either make your meal soar or drag it down into the depths of disappointment. This is especially true with fast food restaurants. Are the fries crispy enough? What's the bread sitch? Is the mac and cheese creamy and flavorful? Building a fast food meal is an art form, and the side dishes are an integral part of the canvas. Personally, I usually like the sides more than the main attraction and have definitely skipped it at times. Sometimes, making a full-fledged meal of multiple sides instead is just what you need. No regrets.

KFC is no newbie to the fast food scene. It has been churning out buckets of crispy fried chicken for decades. The Colonel's original recipe chicken has been drawing in enthusiasts for years, but it's not the only superstar. The side dishes at KFC have a long history, and the consistency of the usual suspects on the menu is a testament to the whole "if it's not broke, don't fix it" mantra. I also learned that you can hack the KFC side menu and add a single piece of chicken to any order. I fully immersed myself into the KFC sides menu to provide you with a detailed review of every single one on the menu. There's good and bad news about the lineup, and I ranked all of them from worst to best.

My KFC had eight side dishes available on the menu, including Secret Recipe fries, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, potato wedges, corn, mac and cheese, coleslaw, and of course, the good old Southern biscuit. I purchased them all in individual sizes to create the ultimate KFC side smorgasbord and judged them Portnoy-style with one bite. I tasted all the KFC sides warm, except for the coleslaw, because that would be weird. Many of them left a lot to be desired and looked like they came straight from an '80s school cafeteria lunch tray, while only a few were truly worth ordering. The rankings are based on flavor, seasoning, quality, and appearance.

The green beans from KFC secured the worst ranking with flying colors, and they deserved it. None of those colors were from the actual green beans, though, because they have more of a greenish-gray hue. The not-green beans are chopped into smallish pieces that look like they have all been through it, and there is absolutely nothing visually appealing about them. Even by appearance alone, they easily take last place, and I'm afraid it doesn't get better from there. Not only do they look completely unappetizing, but they eat that way as well. The best practice is really to avoid all veggies on the KFC menu.

The first notes that hit your taste buds are drenched in unhinged amounts of salt. It's just too much. It's like when a teenage boy has just discovered cologne for the first time and has no chill when aggressively spritzing himself before school. The green beans are soggier than any vegetable should ever be, and that makes them even more off-putting if that's possible. They reminded me of something, and I couldn't put my finger on it at first. Then, it hit me like a bag of salt. KFC's green beans taste exactly like the mushy, muted green ones floating around for months in canned vegetable soup, just waiting to be purchased. They are soggy, sad, and should be avoided at all costs if you actually want to enjoy your meal from KFC.

Right on the heels of the great green bean disaster, the coleslaw is another major KFC dud. It looks like fairly typical coleslaw, although the veggies are more diced than shredded or julienned. My serving came with about 11 carrot bits drowning in a whole bunch of cabbage. Like, why even bother at that point? Just lose the carrots and don't embarrass yourself, KFC. The whole vibe feels like something your grandmother would whip up for unexpected guests based on what she had in the fridge. It's like she underestimated how many carrots she had to work with, but was already in too deep to change course and just went with it, hoping for the best.

The mound of disproportionate veggies is sitting in a sea of white liquid. Perhaps the mayo was so embarrassed to be part of it and quit midway, sending water in its place. If you are a "must have coleslaw with fried chicken" person, this one will break your heart and literally leave a bad taste in your mouth. The egregious amount of liquid makes for a soupy mess, and that's not the only issue. I'm guessing when the batch my serving came from was made, someone misplaced the measuring cups. That's the only logical explanation for the offensive amount of sugar in the entire depressing KFC coleslaw mess. This side most definitely did not slay as the kids say.

Let's be real. It's not like corn is the most exciting or flavorful vegetable. How many people are genuinely filled with palpable excitement over corn? And if you are one of them, please share your corn source because we need to know. The veggie does have the potential to be a respectable and decently enjoyable side if it is handled correctly. Bad corn, however, can ruin even the greatest of fast food experiences. The cup of corn from KFC looks exactly like it should. While no one expects a mind-blowing culinary experience from a pile of yellow kernels, there are some basic expectations. Corn should have certain levels of crispness and sweetness, and yes, they can vary depending on the audience.

While this side looks fine, it's not enjoyable at all. Similar to the troubled green beans, the KFC corn suffers from the same textural issues and is a snoozefest of a side dish. The kernels are mushy to the point that they eat way more chewy than any kernel ever should. I only wish KFC could take some of the overbearing sweetness from the coleslaw to help the corn out and make it shine a little brighter. Not that anyone is busting through the doors of KFC for corn, but that doesn't mean the chicken chain can't put forth a tiny kernel of effort.

If you prefer a thicker, more robust fry, like a steak fry, the KFC potato wedges are probably for you. It's one of multiple potato side dishes for those who like some spuds to accompany their go-to fast food order. The seasoned wedges are my least favorite of the potato variations, but they are without a doubt better than any of the lackluster veggies and watery slaw. It's not a super high bar so far, though, so take that for what it's worth. The portions of potato wedges are generous, and they do look tasty. The potato slices range in size and thickness, so the crisp factor varies because they are not all evenly cooked.

The pieces that noticeably lack crispy edges are soggy and also way too mealy to enjoy. The wedge is clearly in the midst of some sort of identity crisis and doesn't know whether it's supposed to act like a roasted potato or a fry. Unfortunately, it misses the mark on both. The flavor is decent, but everything else about it is totally uninspired. Fries at a fast food restaurant are under a lot of pressure because everyone expects a lot from them. Perhaps if the wedges from KFC were crisped up just a touch more, it would move them up in the rankings.

I will always get down with mac and cheese if it's on the menu. The cheesier the better. My first impression of the mac and cheese from KFC was that it looked super duper creamy. There are few things worse on a fast food menu than dry mac and cheese. So judging by aesthetics alone, this side has some real potential. The quintessential Southern staple does taste creamy, I'll give it that. The cheese sauce is luscious and velvety, both great attributes of a good mac and cheese. The overall flavor is what knocks it down a few rungs. KFC's mac and cheese could have been a stronger contender if it had offered any distinct flavor. Instead, it kind of tastes like nothing.

The cheesy cream sauce is simply not enough to make the mac and cheese a successful side dish. It eats more like a cup of mushy noodles you left on the stove too long in a flavorless sauce, practically begging to be spiced up. Is it the worst mac and cheese I've ever had? No. There's just nothing memorable about it, and the lack of flavor makes it painfully dull. If you like choking down overcooked noodles with globs of a tasteless creamy sauce, KFC is where you can find it. It's only better than the veggies because they really are that bad. Don't waste any time or money on this mac and cheese. It's so not worth it. 

I know I'm not alone in thinking that the crispy chicken skin at KFC steals the show. It's consistently that perfect golden brown and has the slightly oily sheen that tells you it's going to be a good time. Plus, it's blessed with the Colonel's secret blend of herbs and spices that the KFC empire is built on. When I saw the Secret Recipe fries, I knew it was a 50-50 shot in either direction. They look crispy, and the portion size is good. In terms of texture, KFC delivers. These fries have a crispy coating that is consistent from top to bottom. Every single fry in the pack is much more uniformly cut and cooked, unlike the unpredictable wedges. Overall, the Secret Recipe fries are decent, not amazing, and certainly not better than other fast food fries out there.

The flavor is there, although I honestly expected it to be stronger. It was much more subtle than the flavor of the Original Recipe chicken, but in a pleasantly surprising way. The spices are just the right amount to give them a little something extra than regular french fries. Basically, if you ordered both the Original Recipe fries and chicken, it wouldn't create an overseasoned disaster. The Secret Recipe fries can stand on their own or pair nicely with any of the mains. It's one of the only reasonable choices worth ordering from the side dishes KFC offers.

KFC's mashed potatoes are legendary, and I stand by that statement. Their longevity on the menu is a testament to how truly popular and beloved they are, and I get it. They have to be some form of delicious if people are willingly ordering them knowing they're not even made from real potatoes. If you didn't already know, I'm sorry to be the one to burst your bubble, but they are made from dehydrated potato flakes. Nobody's nana is donning a red and white striped KFC-branded apron and mashing potatoes by hand. Don't get me wrong, though, there are ways to spruce up instant mashed potatoes.

Despite the humble potato flakes, this KFC side is smooth, silky, and sans a single lump. On their own, the mashed potatoes are fine. When you add the famous brown gravy, though, it's a completely different experience. There are plenty of things you probably didn't know about KFC mashed potatoes, like they're so revered across the pond that they are a fixture on many holiday tables. And if you happen not to be a fan, don't worry, because you're not alone: The Colonel himself despised them and was very vocal about it. I think the smooth potatoes doused in savory, warm gravy are a fantastic complement to a crispy piece of poultry. Although the mashed potatoes are not made from scratch, they are well worth the purchase to have a true classic KFC experience.

The KFC biscuit is hands down my favorite item on the entire menu, and yes, I realize what I am saying since it's just a piece of bread. It's simple and wholesome. There may not be a single frill to the KFC biscuits, but they also never disappoint. Sometimes less really is more. A perfect biscuit is easier to achieve than many realize, and when you get it right, you feel it in your soul just as much as in your belly. It won't let you down like overly salted, muddy green beans, bland corn, or sodden coleslaw. You know exactly what you are going to get, and that's one of the things that makes it so endearing. My only note is that it was a bit on the skimpy side. 

I'm sorry, but there is nothing you can say to convince me that a hot and fresh KFC biscuit adorned with a pat of butter from the janky plastic container isn't a showstopper. It's not a Michelin-star meal, but as far as fast food, it's the real deal and it always hits. KFC's golden biscuit child is perfectly baked with a toasty brown crust and rich, buttery insides. The whole package makes for a satisfying, comforting bite that deserves praise, especially among the other sides that really drop the ball. The biscuit is pretty much carrying the load among its side dish cohorts, like the one student who does the majority of the work in a group project.