Raising Cane’s and the Spiritual Life

There is currently a great scourge running roughshod through the internet, a veritable ocular plague if you will; YouTube amateur food reviews. Across the country millions of pairs of eyes are glued to their tiny, smart black mirrors to some variation of a common theme; your average Joe in their car with some recording set up and a bag of grease-stained burgers, tacos or chicken. While this may seem innocuous enough, let’s take a look at chicken and something I am starting to call, “The Raising Cane’s Problem.”

Simply put, the Raising Cane’s Problem (RCP) is a growing number of people taking umbrage with the apparent lack of seasoning and (to a lesser degree) menu options. They decry the fries, the chicken (both for its breading and seasoning) and smugly assert that Cane’s is only a “sauce restaurant” — as if Paul Newman didn’t bring charity to millions of people by just that very same model.

Let’s pause and ask a question: what exactly do people expect? Cane’s has never pretended to be the Cheesecake Factory. It doesn’t hand you a novel-sized menu where you can order sushi, enchiladas, and fettuccine alfredo under the same roof. It sells chicken fingers, fries, toast, coleslaw, and sauce. That’s it. And that’s the point.

The Raising Cane’s Problem isn’t really about chicken—it’s about subtlety. We live in an age where every flavor has to scream to be noticed, where “loaded,” “spicy,” or “extreme” are required adjectives for food that can’t stand on its own. But Cane’s doesn’t shout. It doesn’t drench its chicken in twelve herbs and spices or turn its fries into a carnival of toppings. It simply serves you quality chicken and trusts you to notice.

And that’s where the amateur reviewers fall apart. Sitting in their cars with grease-stained bags and a phone camera balanced on the dashboard, they don’t have the patience—or maybe the palate—to catch quiet excellence. They take a bite, frown into the camera, and say, “Needs more flavor.” Translation: “I can’t handle restraint.”

I say to you now, dear reader…embrace restraint! The RCP is reflective of a growing trend among us where we need more and more and more. Flavors need to be bigger and bolder. Screens need to be brighter. Noise needs to be louder. But what is this doing to us? It’s creating a generation of people that aren’t looking for the simple or the plain but rather forever chasing, “The Next Big Thing.”

And here lies the deeper truth: “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10). How can we possibly be still when our eyes, ears, and even taste buds demand constant stimulation? We miss the quiet things—both in food and in faith. God does not come to us in neon lights and endless noise; He comes in bread and wine, in the still small voice, in the subtle grace that is easy to overlook.

Cane’s, in its restraint, teaches us to notice the small. But fasting goes even further. If Cane’s is subtle presence, fasting is subtle absence. Where Cane’s whispers through quiet flavor, fasting whispers through quiet hunger. Both are schools of stillness. Both re-train us to pay attention.

Most dismiss Cane’s for the same reason they dismiss fasting: they don’t understand simplicity. They think if it isn’t dramatic, it isn’t worthwhile. But fasting clears the palate of the soul, just as Cane’s clears away the noise of excess. Together, they remind us that the plain thing is often the good thing, and the still thing is often the holy thing.

So the next time you hear someone call Cane’s bland, don’t argue. Smile. Because not everyone has the taste for subtlety. And not everyone has the courage for stillness.