Fast food is a key component of my diet. When they perform my autopsy following my heart explosion (next week), they will note that my digestive tract will be 78% filled with items that spent time in an industrial deep fryer and served to me by a high schooler in an ill-fitting uniform earning minimum wage. Whenever I am out with friends and the topic of where to eat arises, I almost always suggest “Burger King!” (I say “almost always” because sometimes our travels bring us closer to a Wendys). The collective “no” I receive in reply, often unanimously, is spoken in such a way that not only is the idea of Burger King declined, but also the entire concept of fast food dining. They want me to suggest somewhere a little more upscale (meaning it has tablecloths), perhaps a place that has “bar and grille” in its name and features appetizers thrice the price of a standard 3-course Value Meal at Burger King. Needless to say, I (intentionally) never pick up on these subtle cues, and go on to suggest KFC instead.
So, when I heard that early November 2010 was going to see a resurgence of McDonalds’ popular cult item the “McRib,” I was ecstatic. I went around to anyone and everyone who had the misfortune of crossing my path and excitedly described that not only was I happy that the McRib was back, but that I had also never tried it. They didn’t seem to care. Chances are, you don’t either. Too bad.
Those of you who DO care are perhaps a little flabbergasted at the fact that a McRib sandwich has never met the inside of my esophagus. A lover of all things fast food who has never taken the opportunity to ingest a sandwich that is so rarely offered that websites have sprung up pinpointing locations that had it in stock? Surely such a creature doesn’t exist!
I don’t know why I never participated in the McRib craze. I remember its hype, the websites, and the horrible season 14 episode of “The Simpsons” that tried to parody the craze but ultimately led into what every post-2000 episode of the once-great show has: Homer acting stupid while the rest of the characters basically shouted out “Look at me! I’m making a reference to something! Oftentimes I will make note of this!” I attribute my interest this year to the fact that I really have nothing else of note going on in my life at the moment.
My taste test was performed at a McDonalds in Chester County, Pennsylvania, an uber-suburban area where people who make below $200,000 per year are considered homeless. The restaurant was filled with the types of people who thrive in that sort of environment: Baby Boomers in shirts and ties who had made their way over from one of the 10,000 office parks that infiltrate the area…Gen Xers in business casual clothing from the same office parks who are about to be laid off by their Baby Boomer cohorts because country club fees have risen…stay-at-home soccer moms possessing the same weight and IQ of the Cheerio-encrusted minivans they drive. As far as I knew, I was the only cynical writer in the establishment.
I was shocked at the McRib’s asking price: $1.99 for the sandwich or $3.99 for the meal. I am wary of such prices, as they are usually assigned to food items no larger than the packet of ketchup accompanying them. Even in fast food places, you have to spend well over $5 for a meal that will clog even ONE artery. Years ago, a five-dollar bill in a fast food place could get you halfway to a coronary.
I ordered my McRib without its requisite onions and pickles, as I find those disgusting. Yes, I, someone who once ate a sandwich containing only bologna, cheese, roast beef, and bacon, actually finds certain food items disgusting. Often these items fall into the “fruit and vegetable” category. I refuse to eat anything that grows out of the ground; instead, I prefer eating things that have stood ON the ground. My taste buds agree, as an ex-girlfriend of mine found out one day when she actually tried to force feed me a piece of lettuce. My gag reflex was invoked and I immediately hated her for it. Of course, I’m a mature person and knew she meant well. I eventually let the episode pass and went back to hating her for other reasons.
My $4.23 meal (damn sales tax) consisted of a soft drink (some mutant form of Dr Pepper), the standard McDonalds fries that are 99% salt and 1% more salt, and a McRib slathered in barbecue sauce.
The verdict?
Tasty. At first, all I tasted was barbecue sauce; for all I knew, there could have been a Chicken McNugget in the bun. Ultimately, the flavor of the Spam-quality pork patty reached my taste buds and was given a passing grade. Despite the tastiness, I wasn’t sure why it was deserving of all the hype. I have only consumed a handful of foods in my life (Cheesecake Factory’s crispy chicken costoletta, Original SoupMan’s Italian Wedding soup, Burger King’s whole menu) that I deem worthy enough of attention-grabbing hype and even prime time television interruption (“Hello. Sorry to have interrupted the series finale of ‘Lost’ during the last 2 minutes of the program, but I just wanted to say that Burger King’s chicken tenders are awesome. Now back to the show, which has already ended”). The McRib is not one of them. When its six-week reign of the McDonalds menu ends this coming December, it will be of no huge loss to me.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m hungry.
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