Turkey, schurkey. We all know which bird is king when it comes to chowing down

I got a late afternoon text message from my wife a few weeks ago.

“Any chance you can run by Chick-fil-A on your way home and get us a sandwich for dinner?” she asked.

“Cluck! Cluck!” I wrote back.

I reminded her that, in the past five days, I had fried chicken from the Publix deli, grilled chicken on the Big Green Egg, chicken wings from Georgia Bob’s, had another round of fried chicken at the Macon Touchdown Club meeting and baked chicken in the school cafeteria for lunch that day.

Chicken is such a fixture on my daily menu I often don’t realize just how much of it is on my plate. Last weekend, I took Delinda to an estate sale in Hawkinsville, then headed to M&T Meats with a cooler and returned with 5 pounds of chicken wings. On our way home, we stopped at Chicken Salad Chick in Warner Robins, where she ordered her favorite chicken salad.

Yes, chicken is a staple in my diet. I can start a long streak – even longer if I count eating eggs for breakfast – without realizing I am repeating myself. If I can’t remember what I ate for my last meal, I can assume it was “chicken” and there is a good chance I will be right.

Thursday is Thanksgiving, and friends and co-workers have been wishing me a happy “Turkey Day.’’ It’s the signature dish of the biggest meal of the year. Some lucky turkey will receive a presidential pardon. The rest of the flock of Butterballs will be tossed into ovens, smokers and deep fryers.

Chicken is no such prima donna. It’s more of a bird for all seasons. It has been served at more banquets more than any other food. Its versatility is the stuff of legends. Sandwiches. Salads. Soups. Wings. Nuggets. Strips. Fingers. Dumplings. You can have it in a quesadilla or on a kabob. You can fry it, grill it, bake it, broil it or boil it. If Bubba Gump had started reciting chicken instead of shrimp dishes, he would have become more famous than Colonel Sanders.

Is there any restaurant that doesn’t have chicken somewhere on its menu? Seafood restaurants, pizza parlors and barbecue joints all offer it. They serve it at the Nu-Way and Waffle House. It is part of the fare for every ethnic food, from Chinese to Italian to Mexican. Even fancy restaurants aren’t too proud to acknowledge it as a super food.

I have a history with chicken. My first job in high school was at a Kentucky Fried Chicken in Sandy Springs. I took home leftover chicken several nights a week. My mother cried when I quit that job. My sister, Sally, later worked down the street on Roswell Road at a Chick-fil-A at Hammond Square.

Chickens always have been part of my timeline. I have traveled to Gainesville, the poultry capital of the world. I have visited Bethune, South Carolina, home of the “Chicken Strut.” My mother graduated from high school in Fitzgerald, which has received a modest amount of national publicity for the wild Burmese chickens that roam the streets and neighborhoods, giving new meaning to the term “free range’’ chickens. I’ve made many trips to Eatonton, which may be the Dairy Capital of Georgia but also is the birthplace of Truett Cathy, the founder of Chick-fil-A. I once paid $2 to see a three-legged chicken named Tripod at the Georgia National Fair.

Locally, there are superb places to eat chicken, from the Bear’s Den, H&H and Francar’s in Macon to the Swanson House in Perry, the Side Track Café in Eastman and Buckner’s in Jackson. When it comes to fast food, I remain a loyal fan of Chick-fil-A and Zaxby’s. I have been known to drive to east Macon after church on Sundays for an 8-piece box of Bojangles. When one of my students raved about the spicy chicken nuggets from Wendy’s, I stopped on Zebulon Road and ordered a 10-piece to-go. After the first red light, only the crumbs made it home.

Which brings me to Popeyes.

I have been curious about the frenzy surrounding the restaurant’s new chicken sandwich, which was introduced a few months ago. The sandwich apparently was so amazing it was selling out. Lines were long and tempers were short. Fights were breaking out in the parking lot. (In one incident, a man was shot and killed.)

Last week, I decided to see what all the fuss was about. I drove over to Mercer University Boulevard, intending to be an early bird, no pun intended. When I arrived at 4:57 p.m. the drive-thru line already was wrapped halfway around the building. Inside, almost every table was occupied.

I had to wait my turn, but it was civil. Nobody beat me up. And, I must say the sandwich was delicious … a large fried chicken patty on a brioche bun, with pickles and spicy mayonnaise. (In those cartoons of my youth, Popeye derived his strength from a can of spinach. There was no spinach on my sandwich, but that probably was a good thing.)

I can remember when there wasn’t a Popeyes in Macon. The closest location was in Warner Robins. When my wife was pregnant, and 10 days overdue with our first child, she had a craving for Cajun chicken.

I drove to Warner Robins that night, picked up an order of drumsticks and thighs to go, and brought home supper. She went into labor a few hours later – no doubt induced by spicy chicken.

We almost named our firstborn Popeye, but that’s a story for another day.

Ed Grisamore teaches journalism at Stratford Academy in Macon. His column appears on Sundays in The Telegraph.