Now this is Halloween. I hope those four simple words got that song from The Nightmare Before Christmas stuck in your head, because I have had it stuck in mine for three days now. I could think of worse Halloween songs. See: The Worst Witch.
Now you really hate me. We’re off to a great start.
The packaging of Cadbury Screme Eggs is simplistic but effective: black background, green oozy blob, and purple accents. Oh, sure, black and orange get all the attention around this time of year, but I think green and purple are the backup players that really add to the Halloween spirit.
And, of course, there’s the name. Could a candy be more primed for a Halloween makeover? Just pop an S on “creme” and you are set.
Cadbury wasn’t content to just make a slight name change and re-decorate some foil, however. More on that in just a second.
Screme Eggs are new in the US this year, but they’ve existed in the UK for…I’m not sure how long, but at least a year. I know this for a fact, because a friend of mine (the same one that sacrificed herself to ingest a pizza stuffed with hot dogs just for the sake of JFB) sent me a Halloween care package last year from the UK that included these eggs. Unfortunately, due to accursed international shipping, the package didn’t arrive until after Halloween was over.
I should have told November to screw off and reviewed the awesome sampling of products anyways, but for some reason I took a hard line on Halloween. I ate the goodies, but I really should have reviewed them. I have regrets, but also bragging rights that I ate Cadbury Screme Eggs before most people in the US had this opportunity. The regret still lingers, however.
Looks pretty innocuous, right? Just another already-existing product with some Halloween packaging. Yawn.
JFB confession time: I hate eggs. I have hated eggs for as long as I can remember. I don’t want to hate eggs; it makes ordering breakfast an unjust challenge. I have often seen breakfast products and thought, “That sounds delicious…too bad it’s an omelet.”
I wish I could say that I’m up for anything when it comes to reviewing foods, but I just can’t bring myself to eat things with eggs in them. I’d consider it a grand character flaw, but I’m sure most people out there have at least one food that they just can’t stand. Eggs are my kryptonite.
This all leads up to an anecdote: when I was a child, I was absolutely convinced that Cadbury Creme Eggs had actual egg inside. Try as she might, my mom could not convince me that these eggs were nothing more than a sugary Easter treat that just happened to look like an egg, inside and out. It took years before I was willing to try one. Kids are stupid.
However, perhaps if I’d had Cadbury Screme Eggs in my life as a child, I would have been much more willing to try them.
AAAHHHHHH! That’s not the typical white-and-yellow filling of a Cadbury Egg! The yolk has been replaced with green ooze! You’ve now completely won my heart, Cadbury Screme Eggs. You’re my Ectoplasm hero.
And yes, as a youth I probably would have been more willing to try an egg with green ooze inside than one that somewhat simulated actual egg filling. Kids.
Not one to rest on their slimy laurels, Cadbury also has a very Halloweenie website, complete with haunted house, bats, and a Halloween countdown clock on the home page. It also has suggestions for Halloween activities like “eyeball race” (hells yeah!) and “pin the wart on the witch”, which I think should replace pin the tail on the donkey year-round.
There’s also a Halloween trivia quiz, with questions like, “Why were Jack o’Lanterns created?” and multiple choice options like “People were lonely and found the face comforting.” It is rather adorable. Let’s face it, Cadbury Screme Eggs are for kids, and adults like me who turn into kids when October 1st rolls around. I also like the idea of lonely people carving into squash because they need a friend. “Oh Jack, you’re such a good listener. No hard feelings about scooping your guts out, right?”
As for the taste, if you’ve eaten a Cadbury Creme Egg, you’ve tasted a Cadbury Screme Egg. Sugar goo inside a milk chocolate shell. Oh, sure, they could have changed the flavoring of the green goo to green apple or something, but you know what? I love Cadbury Screme Eggs just the way they are. Good packaging, fun website, and green ooze inside.
My only bone to pick would be that the egg itself doesn’t have a cool skull on it, but after careful consideration, I think leaving the egg as-is works just as well. It’s innocence betrays nothing of the fun ghost goo that lies inside. It’s like a wall at a haunted house that suddenly drops away to reveal a bloody psychopath who wants to cut you in half with a chainsaw. Halloween is a time of surprises.
As an added bonus, I’m now halfway to making green eggs and ham, and I don’t even have to eat real eggs!
Cadbury Screme Egg
Score: 4.5 out of 5 disembodied heads covered in slime
Price: $0.79
Size: 1.2 oz. egg
Purchased at: Target
Nutritional Quirks: These things are almost literally pure sugar. Parents BEWARE
I have to say, I’ve been disappointed by this year’s Halloween-themed food offerings. Given, my expectations are pretty high – I expect pretty much every food packaging on grocery shelves to be covered in bats, ghosts, and witches, and the contents possibly coated in Ectoplasm.
I understand that this is unrealistic, and I applaud companies for at least trying, like the Candy Corn Oreos, even if the results are less than stellar. But if I see the words “pumpkin spice” one more time, I’m going to cause an incident in aisle three that may impede my ability to do my usual grocery shopping in the future, unless I can get away with blaming it on a poltergeist.
I also realize that making something “Halloween-flavored” has some pretty strict limitations. Eating ghost-flavored Doritos would probably pretty disappointing; I’ve never tasted a ghost, but I imagine they aren’t very flavorful. Maybe cold, at best. Likewise, I would hesitate to eat a Snickers bar that had spiders instead of peanuts in it.
…Actually, that would be kind of awesome, but I understand where they could run into some problems with that.
All this complaining leads up to one of the few new Halloween offerings I’ve seen this year: Limited Harvest Flavor Milky Way Caramels.
Okay, so there’s no ghouls or goblins on the packaging, and it’s technically not a Halloween offering, it’s a “Harvest Flavor”, which is an odd thing to call a flavor, but I’ll go with it. At least it has a cute little leaf logo.
Because I so desperately want this to have some semblance of Halloween to it, I like to think the candy on the bottom is actually vomiting out the words “Caramel Apple” in delicious caramel ooze. That’s good ooze vomit control, right there. Excellent cursive. Vomiting pumpkins the world over could take a lesson from this barfing piece of candy.
These candies are called “Minis”, and for obvious reasons. Milky Way Caramel Apples are only available in this size and in this package, which means they’re obviously made for trick-or-treaters. Piece of advice: if you’re going to give these out, give more than one per child. Kids are demanding, these days. Fun Size or egg on your house.
Getting to the candy itself: imagine you’re a youth, living in, say, Massachusetts. It’s October; the leaves are turning a myriad of beautiful colors, there’s a brisk chill in the air, but it’s not cold enough that your Ghostbusters jacket can’t keep you warm. You and your parents have made the drive out of the bustling metropolis and are at an orchard where, for a price, you now have a basket in-hand to perform your own manual labor.
You’re on the quest for the perfect apples. You need a little help to reach the taller ones, but in the end, you’ve picked the ripest, reddest, juiciest apples you could find.
Once you’re home, your mom painstakingly melts both cubes of caramel and chocolate chips on the stove while you dutifully shove popsicle sticks up the ass of the very best of the apples you’ve picked. You wait with anticipation until, finally, it’s time to dip. First the caramel, then the chocolate, and then it’s time to bite into that juicy, sugary, perfect apple. It’s harvest time, and life is good.
Now, forget all that.
Okay, that’s not exactly fair. Caramel Apple Minis have the typical Milky Way chocolate coating and caramel upper layer, but you can see that the lower nougat layer is lighter than typical Milky Ways. It’s actually rather close to the color of the inside of an apple.
It’s not just the color that’s different, however. Upon biting into one of these Minis, my mouth was instantly flooded with apple flavor. The chocolate and caramel flavors were immediately overwhelmed.
Exactly what constitutes “apple flavor”? Well, it’s a little hard to describe. It’d be easy to say that it tasted like a green apple Jolly Rancher, or a green apple Jelly Belly, or…well, any of the innumerable green apple-flavored candies that have snatched the title of “go-to green flavor” from lime in not-so-recent years. RIP, lime. I miss you.
But this candy was different. It wasn’t sour like other apple candies. It actually kind of tasted like…apples?
Don’t fall out of your chair in shock quite yet, though. It was more like a hint of real apple with a healthy chemical artificiality. I know it’s weak, but my first impression was, “This is…weird.” Not helpful, really, but there it is. It was unique in that it almost pulled off an actual apple taste, but that taste was ruined by the strength of the artificial taste. In fact, even though these candies were less than bite-sized, after eating only two, the chemicapple taste lingered well after I was done, and I’d had my fill.
I have to say, I was expecting disaster from Limited Harvest Flavor Milky Way Caramel Apple Minis. What I got was a surprising and unique apple flavor that wasn’t a total disaster, but far from a tasty autumn treat that mimics an actual caramel apple. The apple flavor was too chemically and artificial, and it overwhelmed the chocolate and caramel, leaving an unpleasant aftertaste that didn’t leave me wanting to come back for more.
As always, I give points and appreciation to Milky Way for trying to go beyond just throwing a bat on the wrapper or changing the shape of the candy to a pumpkin, but I can’t give a total thumbs up on these Limited Harvest Flavor Caramel Apple Minis. If I were a trick-or-treater, I’d be excited to see this new product in my pillow case (as long as there was more than one), but I’d wind up going back to my A-pile Fun Size Snickers and Twix pretty quickly.
Limited Harvest Flavor Milky Way Caramel Apple Minis
Score: 2.5 out of 5 puking pumpkins
Price: $2.79
Size: 11.5 oz. bag
Purchased at: Target
Nutritional Quirks: Nothing remotely apple-related listed as an ingredient, so I guess the mysterious “artificial and natural flavors” are what make the apple magic happen. I’m leaning more towards the “artificial” part.
Another Frito-Lay chip, another XXXtreme chip name. Ruffles became Ultimate; Doritos are now Jacked.
The word “jacked” does not immediately bring up positive connotations; when I think jacked, I think “jacked up”, like, “Oh man, you totally jacked up that guy’s face!”
Of course, now I’m old, so it’s more like, “Oh man, I totally jacked up my back while I was sleeping last night.”
Doritos seems to have a different definition of the word, however. According to the front of the bag, Jacked means “Bigger. Bolder. Thicker.”
Okay. Obviously not my first guess, but hey.
The back of the bags expounds. “It came without warning: a NEW, extreme snack sent to shock your taste buds with MIND-BLOWING flavor and a bigger, bolder, thicker CRUNCH than you’ve ever experienced before.”
The caps emphasis is all Doritos, because everyone knows caps lock means EXTREME. Or Jacked. Or maybe Doritos is just screaming at me, it’s hard to tell.
I like the idea that Doritos Jacked “came without warning”. It makes the chips sound like an old-school horror-movie monster. “It came without warning: SLIGHTLY LARGER AND THICKER TORTILLA CHIPS.” If I was your mom, I’d tell you not to eat Doritos Jacked in the dark before bedtime. You know how you get flavor dust nightmares, dear.
"Mommy, can I sleep in your bag tonight? I had that dream about those Jacked chips again."
As you can see, Jacked Doritos are indeed larger than regular Doritos, and they are also thicker. Plus side: there were almost no crushed chips in either of the bags I purchased. Negative: being larger, they are harder to shove mindlessly into your mouth. It took me at least two bites to get through each chip. Potential for double-dipping increases greatly.
Doritos Jacked comes in two flavors, Enchilada Supreme and Smoky Chipotle BBQ. Consider your mind blown all over the chip aisle of the convenience store.
Doritos Jacked Enchilada Supreme
I love enchiladas, but I had doubts about just how Supreme these Enchilada Doritos would be. According to the back of the bag, “Experience the RUSH of bold cheddar cheese & tangy salsa: then a WAVE of sizzling Mexican spices that’ll leave your taste buds BEGGING for more.”
That’s quite the promise of Flavor Country.
I wasn’t exactly sure what the “bolder” part of the Jacked equation was, but it seems to translate to “we left the chips in the flavor dust-sprayer an extra few minutes”, because these bitches be covered in powder. I’ve always appreciated finding those half-dozen Doritos in a bag that seem to have gotten an extra dust, and it seems like that’s the case with all the Jacked chips.
Unfortunately, I’ve been disappointed by Doritos and their promises of brain-spraying flavors before, and Enchilada Supreme was no exception. Again, I appreciated the heavy coating of powder, but the flavors here were nothing new. Imagine Spicy Nacho Doritos with just a hint of enchilada sauce, and that’s just about it. Does that count as a WAVE of sizzling Mexican spices? Not particularly.
Doritos Jacked Smoky Chipotle BBQ
I’d love to tell you how Doritos described these chips on the back of the bag, but we had a little…review malfunction in my household, resulting in the chips being eaten and the bag being thrown away before I had a chance to write down whatever ridiculous copy the Doritos marketing team came up with.
As an apology, I’ll use my powers of creativity and experience reading the backs of Doritos bags to make up my own description. “Your mouth parts will CRAVE this HIROSHIMA-LIKE EXPLOSION of barbecue and AUTHENTIC chipotle flavor that is so AMAZINGLY SMOKY you’ll think you just stepped into a Memphis jazz bar and someone threw a slow cooked brisket RIGHT INTO YOUR FACE. EXTREME BOLDNESS CRUNCH YOU LIKE A HURRICANE”
Yeah, that sounds about right.
Please do not mistake the accidental consumption and subsequent disposal of the bag as an overpowering eagerness to eat such delicious chips; I would describe the situation more as “these are here, and we are running out of room in the cupboard”.
Not exactly a ringing endorsement, and for good reason. I’ve railed against the use of chipotle as a flavor description when there is no discernible chipotle flavor, and sadly, that remains true here. There is a little bit of smokiness, but the dominant taste is your typical barbecue chip flavoring with a definite sweet side.
Call it a personal preference, but I just don’t truck with BBQ-flavored tortilla chips. Something about the sweetness just doesn’t jive with the flavor of the tortilla chip itself. Like Enchilada Supreme, Smoky Chipotle BBQ Jacked chips are heavily coated with flavor dust, which works against the chip in this case, as it only emphasizes the sweet barbecue flavor.
The premise of Doritos Jacked chips is “Bigger. Bolder. Thicker.”, and I’d say they pretty much deliver on that tagline. They are bigger, but do you really need a bigger tortilla chip? They also do seem thicker, but not to the point of hurting your teeth, and this seems to prevent chip breakage, which I call a plus.
As for the claim of being bolder, if we’re taking that to mean more flavor powder, they do certainly deliver on that front, too. While this works for Enchilada Supreme, despite the lack of originality in flavor, it works against Smoky Chipotle BBQ, which is just too sweet and lacks any chipotle flavor.
Does the world need Doritos Jacked? Not really. I get enough crunch from regular Doritos, and I don’t really want a tortilla chip that is too big to fit in my mouth. While I am a fan of heavily-dusted chips, there’s nothing original about Enchilada Supreme, and I found Smoky Chipotle BBQ straight-up unappealing.
If the Doritos Jacked line comes out with more flavors, I’m give them a try, because I’m a sucker. But for now, I’m perfectly content with regular ol’ Doritos.
Doritos Jacked Enchilada Supreme
Score: 2.5 out of 5 flavor dust nightmares
Price: $1.49
Size: 3 3/8 oz. bag
Purchased at: Circle K #2821
Nutritional Quirks: Do tomato and garlic powders count as “sizzling Mexican spices”? Because that’s the closest I could find on the ingredients list.
Doritos Jacked Smoky Chipotle BBQ
Score: 1.5 out of 5 briskets in your face at a Memphis jazz club
Price: $1.49
Size: 3 3/8 oz. bag
Purchased at: Circle K #2821
Nutritional Quirks: No chipotle listed as an ingredient. Sigh.
It’s only mid-September, so you may be wondering why I’m reviewing a candy corn-flavored cookie. Well, first of all, mid-September is Halloween time. I don’t care what you say; from now until October 31st, I will submerge myself in as many ghosts, ghouls, bats, witches, zombies and fake blood as I can, and I will do it with no apologies.
Second, the Internet seems to have exploded with Candy Corn Oreo mania. Why? I have no idea. As we continue to descend into oddly-flavored snack food madness, Candy Corn Oreos seem like a rather mundane thing to get crazy about. But hey, I go where the Internet goes. And here we are.
I’ve been calling them Candy Corn Oreos, but their official moniker is Limited Edition Candy Corn flavor creme Oreos. This irritates me for two completely trivial reasons. Shouldn’t that be “flavored creme”? And why is it spelled “creme” instead of “cream”? Is there a difference? I can’t seem to find one, beyond using French spelling to look fancy. You are Candy Corn Oreos. You are not fancy. You have flavored cream.
Actually, wait, the official official name is Limited Edition Candy Corn flavor creme Artificially Flavored Oreos. So maybe they didn’t want to have two “flavored”s in one…eh, I give up.
I know, I know. I’m being nitpicky. I think I’m just cranky because I’m all out of candy corn-related material. When I reviewed Candy Corn Dots, I noted that people either love or hate candy corn. A year later, I reviewed M&M’s White Chocolate Candy Corn, wherein I made the same observation, and also linked to the same Lewis Black skit on candy corn, in which he is much funnier than I am anyways, because he’s Lewis Black.
Please, everyone: stop making things that are supposed to taste like candy corn. For my sake. I’m starting to look like a schlub at open mic night over here, sweating and pulling at my shirt collar. Even the drunks are getting tired of my old material, and they’re already blacked out.
Well, let’s get this over with, then.
Jesus Christ, Nabisco, you are giving me no breaks, here. Look at this minimalist packaging. “Hey, here’s a cookie, and some CG candy corns of varying sizes, in case you did not understand that these are Candy Corn Oreos.”
Actually, the more I stare at it, I like the way the candy corns increase in size, giving the illusion that they are coming closer and closer to you. That big guy in front looks like he’s about ready to jump right off the package and fuck my shit up. The cookie and the Oreo logo can barely contain him. He’s all like, “Hold me back bro, hold me back!” I bet he wouldn’t even know what to do with himself if they let him go. All the candy corns in the background are just rolling their eyes. “Ugh, Gary does this every time he drinks.”
Upon opening the package, I was assaulted not by Gary, but by the overwhelming smell of sugar. I literally did one of those “whoah, back that shit up” moves, like when you sniff a carton of expired milk, except less gross and more “I think I just got a cavity through my olfactory senses”.
Heh. It looks like a candy corn butt.
I’d go on another inappropriate rant about how the white tip of candy corn is not properly represented, but I guess you could say the Golden Oreo cookies themselves serve that function. You slid by on a technicality, Nabisco.
What’s more important here is that the flavor of the candy corn is not properly represented. I tried, I really did. I ate like, four cookies. I licked the cream – er, creme. If I tried really hard, I thought I could maybe taste some residual candy corn flavor, but mostly it was typical sweet vanilla-ish Oreo frosting and Golden Oreo cookie.
My husband swore he could taste the candy corn, but try as I might, I just wasn’t getting it. And you know what? I’m pretty okay with that, because I think I’d rather have a regular Golden Oreo than a candy-corn flavored Oreo.
I appreciate the efforts of any snack company that makes special seasonal products, but if you’re going to put out some Limited Edition Candy Corn flavor creme Artificially Flavored Oreos, they should probably taste like candy corn. These Oreos won’t go to waste, but I also won’t feel much Halloweenier eating them, which means they’ve missed their mark. Maybe I’ll dunk them in a nice, tall glass of fake blood to get more into the Halloween spirit.
Spirit? Get it? I hope so because I’m going to use that joke about 50 more times before Halloween is over. Enjoy!
I am a big fan of dipping foods into other foods, so the announcement that Popeyes Chicken is adding three new flavors to their line of “Signature” dipping sauces makes me happy (and hungry).
In addition to the already existing BBQ, Ranch, and Mardi Gras Mustard Signature Dipping Sauces, Popeyes is adding Bayou Buffalo, Sweet Heat and Blackened Ranch to the lineup. Here’s the breakdown:
Bayou Buffalo: “A cayenne pepper hot sauce blended with butter, celery and Cajun seasonings.”
Sweet Heat: “Sweet honey dipping sauce kicked up with Louisiana hot sauce, vinegar and a special blend of peppers.”
Blackened Ranch: “Traditional buttermilk ranch dressing mixed with onion, garlic, a blend of peppers (white, black and red) and Blackened seasoning.”
As a bonus, throughout the month of September you can get three Handcrafted Tenders with the purchase of an eight piece or greater box or family meal at regular price.
Oh, you’re sneaky, Popeyes. What better vehicle to try out their new sauces than some free chicken tenders?
Snack food companies love to throw around words like “extreme” (or Xtreme, or XXXTREEEME), “intense”, “maximum”, and all manner of other adjectives that they want you to think makes their product seem like the craziest, most flavorful, most BLOWIN’ YOUR MIND food you’ve ever eaten.
And I fall for it every time.
Well, not exactly. I don’t expect said product to explode my head, blowing my brains all over my kitchen, or even just make me say, “Wow, that was intense.” But every time I see one of these adjectives on the shelves, I have to at least give it a glance. It is just my nature.
This time, it took a brief post on Facebook to catch my attention. Namely, a post from Ruffles proudly letting me know that their Ultimate Beef N’ Cheese Dip contained real beef brisket.
Such a matter-of-fact post, and yet, to my trained eye, I was instantly revolted and intrigued at the same time.
Soon afterward, I saw a commercial for Ruffles Ultimate that was 30 seconds of so much stupid that I had to take an inordinate amount of time pausing and rewinding it to break it down for all of you:
We open with three shlubs playing poker; balding shlub #4 walks in with his innocent-looking girlfriend (played by actress Emily Chang, whose IMDB credits include “Sexy Nurse” and “Flight Attendant”) and asks if they have room for her. She smiles, all “what are these cards and chips (get it? Poker chips in a chip commercial!) and Texas Hold ‘Em oh my goodness” and the shlubs are immediately roped in by her good looks and seeming gullibility.
She sits down; there’s a bag of Ruffles Ultimate Kickin’ Jalapeño Ranch chips and a jar of Smokehouse Bacon Dip already in front of her chair, which begs the question: who was eating the chips and dip before she arrived? Did Dave just go to take a piss and was instantly usurped by the arrival of a female? Was it some sort of shrine to a dead friend and former poker buddy, who refused to play unless chips and dip were provided for him and him only? I guess we’ll never know.
She sits down and immediately says, “Mmmm, new Ruffles Ultimate,” which is a thing nobody in real life would ever actually say, and sticks a chip into the jar of dip, shoving it into her mouth with lightning speed, like she hasn’t eaten in days.
“Never seen ridges this deep,” she says, pile-driving another dip-loaded chip into her mouth. But wait! What has happened? Innocent girlfriend is suddenly wearing oversized sunglasses and a Bedazzled pair of headphones!
“ Is [sic] there chunks of bacon in this dip? Awesome!” The “awesome” is said in a reverent whisper I would reserve for, say, watching a live feed of the Curiosity rover landing on Mars while in a public library. As she says this, she makes an almost O-face and her sad-sack boyfriend sitting next to her leers. Once dressed modestly, she is now wearing a spaghetti-strapped tank top. One of the shlubs announces that he is “all in”, which I’m sure he wishes he was, in a different context.
“Bro, [unintelligible] me a cold one,” she says, now wearing a blinged-out necklace and a tight leather jacket over her tank top.
“I love you so much right now,” her boyfriend says, immediately getting up to do her bidding. It’s obvious he likes this dressed-for-the-club chick over the nice, sweet girl he walked in with, pre-Ruffles. This is sad but telling. My feminist hackles rise like the ridges of Ruffles Ultimate chips.
“Whatchoo got,” one of the guys off-camera says, in a desperate attempt to sound cool in front of the newly-sexified girlfriend while the boyfriend is in the kitchen, oblivious to one of his friends making what I assume is a double entendre.
“Ba-ZIIIIING,” she says, which is also something nobody has ever actually said, and throws her cards down. “Love boys night out,” she says, and takes, like, three chips from the pot. I take this to mean she has no idea how to play poker, and was just randomly throwing cards down and taking chips. Poker chips, not Ruffles chips.
This scene ends abruptly, leaving me to believe that the guys continue to let her win by just throwing down random cards and taking arbitrary amounts of chips from the pot, all in the hopes of having a quad-way with her as she shovels more and more Ruffles into her mouth.
“The new Ruffles Ultimate: snack like you mean it,” a voiceover says, trying his hardest to sound like the manliest man in the land. What does that phrase even mean? Have I ever snacked like I didn’t mean it? I’ve never taken anything with “sleep-eating” as a side effect, so I guess I wouldn’t know.
That sure was a hell of a lot of words to describe a commercial. Heck, you can just watch the damn thing here.
Now that I’m thoroughly disgusted with Ruffles’ advertising agency and myself, let’s get to the actual food. The word “disgusted” may or may not come up again.
Ruffles Ultimate Kickin’ Jalapeño Chips
What makes these chips “ultimate” is explained right on the front of the bag: “HARDERcore ridges for hardcore dips”.
While I’d love to go on a rant about the use of the non-word “hardercore”, there’s an even deeper issue here. Deeper than one stupid commercial. Deeper than hardercore ridges. It’s called manvertising, and Frito-Lay’s Snack Chat post makes it clear that that is what they’re going for:
“The chips rock ridges twice the size and depth of the ridges in original Ruffles Potato Chips and come in a variety of real food flavors sure to satisfy any guy gathering. The thick, deep ridges in the chips allow for guys to load up on hearty flavor with new hardcore dips…”
I’m trying desperately to stay on-topic, but I have to at least mention the ridiculousness of the phrase “real food flavors”. Have you ever seen a chip that was not “real food” flavored?
“Oh man, you gotta try these new PVC Pipe Pringles. Tastes just like plastic!”
“Check out these limited edition cotton-flavored Doritos!” (Never got past test marketing; potheads and those suffering from hangovers complained of cotton mouth.)
Okay, okay, I got it out of my system. Anyways, I don’t go around burning my bras, but stuff like this is so blatantly sexist that my feminist hackles can’t help but go up. I really don’t mind if products that are obviously intended for guys, like, say, Old Spice deodorant, are directly marketed to the male gender, but things like low-calorie soda or chips with bigger ridges can be enjoyed by both genders.
More on this later. Oh, that’s right. We’re not done yet.
Here’s some words about these stupid chips. As you can see, they do have deeper ridges, but they aren’t much thicker than regular Ruffles. Will deeper ridges alone allow for less chip breakage when dipping? We shall find out in a moment.
As for the flavor, I’m completely dismissing the “Kickin’” part because that’s just regular ol’ unnecessary adjective addition, which has become pedestrian in this day and age of snack food marketing. It’s like when you type the same word over and over again; after a while, it loses all meaning and your eyeballs just pass right over it. I don’t even care that Ruffle is doin’ the whole gerund-abbreviation thin’. It don’t mean nothin’.
The jalapeño flavor does have some actual heat to it, which is always appreciated in a product that claims to have some spice goin’ on. The ranch flavor was surprisingly strong, especially on the finishing end; it lingers more than the jalapeño flavor, but has an authentic ranch flavor that I enjoyed.
Oh, by the way, the back of the bag also says, “Your hunger’s about to get kicked in the tail by the hottest ranch this side of Carson City.”
If you don’t quite get the joke there, you’re obviously an out-of-touch woman, or a sissy man who has never been with a legal whore. Watch out; Ruffles will revoke your Man Card for such an offense.
Ruffles Ultimate Smokehouse Bacon Dip
The jar wants to make sure I know that there’s real bacon inside, which is not inherently bad, because, hey, bacon, but I’m a little disturbed at what this bacon is suspended in. The name of the dip is completely bacon-centric, but its creamy whiteness left me unsettled.
I decided to plow ahead without reading the ingredients on the jar and let my tongue decide what was going on. It’s not like I wasn’t going to eat it anyways, and ignorance is bliss, right?
I also decided to try to Smokehouse Bacon Dip with the Kickin’ Jalapeño Ranch Chips, because that’s what Emily Chang did in the commercial, and I always follow the serving suggestions of snack food manufacturers.
Speaking of which, why not just have Emily Chang turn into a dude at the end of the Ruffles Ultimate commercial? Who wants a sexy chick interrupting your male-bonding poker game? After all, nothing says “completely heterosexual guy gathering” like getting something thick, white and creamy all over your hands with your best buds?
Damn these hackles! So distracting! Anyways, as you can see, Ruffles Ultimate chips immediately failed the “hardercore” test, breaking almost immediately after contact with the thick dip. Way to fail at the one thing you claimed you could accomplish, Ultimate chips. I just so happened to have a bag of regular Ruffles in my cupboard, so I thought a comparison might be in order…
Well, this is awkward...
Ouch.
As for the taste of the dip, it was…well, kind of bland, really. Kind of like a half-assed blend of ranch and sour cream flavors. Out of the three rather large chipfuls of Smokehouse Bacon Dip I ate, only one actually contained a chunk with texture that suggested I was eating a piece of bacon, and even then, it was limp and chewy.
The bacon flavor itself, despite the jar’s claim of real bacon, tasted more like Bacon Bits, and was more of an aftertaste. It’s sad when “bland white stuff” taste overwhelms “real bacon” taste. It even overwhelmed the bit of heat from the chips, somehow. I never knew bland could be so strong.
In hindsight, I’m glad I tried the dip before I read the ingredients. Some of the ingredients with sub-ingredients (have I used the word “ingredients” enough yet?) include “sour cream flavor”, “smoky bacon type flavor” and “butter type flavor”. I’ve never seen so many types. Especially without the grammatically appropriate hyphens.
Ruffles Ultimate Smokehouse Bacon Dip wasn’t gross, per se; it was just bland and disappointing. I wasn’t exactly expecting to be blown away with awesome bacon flavor, nor was I expecting to suddenly be wearing ridiculous bejeweled headphones. I was just expecting something beyond blah. I also was not expecting butter type flavor.
But Smokehouse Bacon Dip is joy in a jar compared to what was to come next…
Ruffles Ultimate Beef N’ Cheese Dip
And here we have the dip that started it all. There’s real beef inside, which I already knew from the Facebook post that told me it contained not just real beef, but real beef brisket.
No questions regarding meat content here; when I opened the lid, I was greeted with, well…that. Ominous lumps hiding just under the surface of a sea of processed cheese. I was already filled with trepidation.
The Ultimate chips fared better with this dip, as the cheese was less thick than the Smokehouse Bacon Dip.
However, the regular Ruffles fared just as well, so Ultimate still loses.
These were the first and last two bites of Beef N’ Cheese Dip I will ever experience. I wanted to stop at one, but I already had the second chip loaded up, and I thought the dip deserved at least two chances.
Let me explain further…
Ruffles Ultimate Beef N’ Cheese Dip is horrible. As the dip first entered my mouth, my taste buds were met with processed cheese flavor, which was not unexpected. However, it went beyond just processed, and ventured into, no, past the worst elementary-school-cafeteria nacho cheese you’ve ever tasted.
And then there was the beef. The chunks were visibly large, but also disturbingly soft. The more I chewed, the worse it got. It started out like a bad piece of meat from a can of Dinty Moore stew, but quickly turned into what I can only describe as “value” generic-brand dog food. I’ve never tasted dog food, but I’ve certainly smelled it, and the “beef brisket” chunks in this dip must be close to what you’d feed your dog if you hate it and want it to die. It is animal cruelty disguised as human chip dip.
Just when I thought it couldn’t be worse, the cheese goo from Hell and the dog food chunks somehow conspired to make the aftertaste even worse. Sometimes I go into food knowing that it’s going to be bad; I steel myself, but soldier on. This…this I was not expecting. The taste lingered in my mouth like a wretched food poisoning-induced vomit, which was appropriate, because I actually felt nauseous after eating it.
I was actually hungry before I had started this review; after the Beef N’ Cheese dip, I honestly had no desire to eat anything, instead dousing my mouth with a cold, bitter mug of coffee that had been hanging around for hours. I verbalized actual “ugh” and “bleeeeeh” sounds as I reeled around my house, which may sound overdramatic, but I was alone, and the sounds were genuine.
The taste refused to leave, like an animal had died inside the wall of my house, except the only exterminator that could eliminate this putrid flavor would be the cold, bony finger of Death himself.
Okay, that last part was a little overdramatic. But only a little.
Overall, my Ruffles Ultimate experience was far from ultimate. The flavor of the Kickin’ Jalapeño Ranch Chips was okay but nothing original or fantastic, and the deeper, wider ridges were actually less effective in preventing chip breakage when up against a thick dip.
The Smokehouse Bacon Dip was hardly a bacon party in my mouth, and the dip itself, chock full of “type” flavors, had hardly any flavor at all. I don’t expect a whole lot out of a jarred, shelf-stable dip, but I expected more than a vaguely sour cream/ranchy base with some chewy bits of fake-tasting bacon.
Last and most definitely least, the Beef N’ Cheese dip was a horrorshow that makes me wish I had a time machine so I that I could go back and tell myself to never read Facebook again just so I had never known it existed. I just realized I never bothered to read the ingredients on the jar of this dip, and you know what? I’m not going to. I’ve already been traumatized enough. I don’t need any further confirmation that this dip is made from the Devil’s jizz and boiled chunks of old horse meat.
Oh, right, I actually forgot about my hackles for some minutes, there. Here’s a parting quote from Frito Lay North America’s Vice President of Marketing: “Guys live for larger-than-life moments that fuel legendary stories they share for years. Male bonding is a rite of passage for guys, and what better way to bond than by attending one of the most exciting parties on the planet. The Ruffles Ultimate line was created to fuel epic moments. It’s in moments like these, often over a bag of chips, where recounting the tale is almost as fun as being there the first time.”
These are some of the dumbest words about any food product I’ve ever seen in print. I could rip it apart for another good 500 words, but I already never want to see the words “Ruffles” and “Ultimate” in the same sentence ever again.
The “party” he’s referring to is some Maxim tie-in contest that has since expired. Consider that a blessing, although nothing makes a for some male bonding and a legendary story with an epic moment quite like a circle puke of fake cheese and dog chow all over a group of Maxim models. Hardercore.
Ruffles Ultimate Kickin’ Jalapeño Ranch Chips
Score: 2.5 out of 5 hardercore chips more fragile than the bones of a post-menopausal woman with osteoporosis
Price: $4.29
Size: 8 oz. bag
Purchased at: Fry’s Foods
Nutritional Quirks: These are chips. Blessedly, they’re just chips.
Ruffles Ultimate Smokehouse Bacon Dip
Score: 1.5 out of 5 BA-ZIIIINGs
Price: $4.49
Size: 15 oz. jar
Purchased at: Fry’s Foods
Nutritional Quirks: Sour cream type flavor. Smoky bacon type flavor. Butter type flavor.
Ruffles Ultimate Beef N’ Cheese Dip
Score: 0 out of 5 circle vomits
Price: $4.49
Size: 15 oz. jar
Purchased at: Fry’s Foods
Nutritional Quirks: Since I refuse to read the actual ingredients – Devil’s jizz and old horse meat.
I’m not usually one to post about deals (unless they’re flat-out freebies), but I’ve taken advantage of this deal before, and I have to say, it’s pretty awesome.
From now until August 12, order any Domino’s pizza online via their website or using their mobile app, use the promo code “50off”, and get any pizza for 50% off its menu price. Any pizza, including their Artisan pizzas, their American Legends line, or that dangerously-overloaded-with-toppings custom pie you’ve been customizing in your dreams. I assume you have pizza dreams like I do.
Plus, when you order off their website, you get to watch Domino’s Pizza Tracker, so you can see exactly when Dave has quality-checked your pizza!
Take advantage of this deal while you can – again, the promo code is “50off”, and the deal ends August 12!
They did it. They finally did it. After years of jokes about Taco Bell just reusing the same half-dozen ingredients to create new menu items, The Bell flipped the bird in your face, teamed up with chef Lorena Garcia, and made a whole new line of products called the Taco Bell Cantina.
I bet you feel ashamed for making fun of them now, don’t you?
We’ve got a lot of ground to cover here, so let’s start with this mysterious chef Lorena Garcia. Who is she? What are her credentials? Let’s play Internet P.I.
First of all, she has no Wikipedia page. This immediately sets off red alarms. As far as I’m concerned, if it doesn’t have a Wikipedia page, it either doesn’t exist or isn’t worth mentioning.
Junk Food Betty notwithstanding, of course.
That said, she does have some credentials, if you could call them that. She was on season four of Top Chef Masters. She did not win. She is on the current season of Top Chef Masters. Results TBD.She was a judge on America’s Next Great Restaurant. It was canceled after the first season due to low ratings. She has a website. She owns? Is executive chef of? Lorena Garcia Cocina restaurant. It is located in the Miami Airport. Concourse D.
No word on how many Michelin stars it has received.
Speaking of Top Chef Masters, here’s a fun little tidbit: during both the first and second episodes (the only episodes that have aired as of this post), Bravo aired Taco Bell Cantina commercials that focused heavily on chef Garcia. Hmmm. The show also airs this fine-print disclaimer at the end of every episode: “Winning and elimination decisions were made by the Judges in consultation with the Producers. Some elimination decisions were discussed with Bravo.”
I’m not saying there’s a conspiracy here or anything. Just…pointing that out.
Ooooookay, so we know who we’re working with, here. Now let’s see what we’re working with.
Working off the Taco Bell press release, chef Garcia worked with Taco Bell’s food innovators to come up with 26 new recipes, which they then narrowed down to 8.
These aren’t just eight new “recipes” using the same ol’ Taco Bell ingredients, however. These are eight new recipes using eight new ingredients.
The ingredients: “Whole black beans, cilantro rice, 100-percent all-white meat chicken in a citrus and herb marinade, guacamole made with 100-percent Hass avocado, fire-roasted corn salsa, creamy cilantro dressing, romaine lettuce and pico de gallo.”
Well, those certainly are a departure from Taco Bell’s current ingredients! That sounds sarcastic, but I’m actually serious. Minus the pico de gallo, which sounds rather similar to Taco Bell’s Fresco Menu’s “fiesta salsa”, these are all brand new and sound very promising.
The recipes: Cantina Bowl, Cantina Burrito, chips and guacamole, chips and roasted corn & pepper salsa, chips and pico de gallo, and cilantro rice topped with black beans.
I’m no math major, but I only count six new menu options there. To indulge Taco Bell, however, I’ll count their chips as a “new recipe”, since they are prepared in-store daily (which they presumably were not before), and count the rice and beans as two separate recipes. Okay, there. That makes eight.
Reviewing all eight new items would make for a lengthy review, and my verbosity is already embarrassing enough as it is. Thankfully, Taco Bell has made it easy for me – they’ve stuffed pretty much every new item into their Cantina Bowl. The official description: “Experience our new citrus-herb marinated chicken, flavorful black beans, guacamole made from real Hass avocados, roasted corn & pepper salsa, a creamy cilantro dressing, and freshly-prepared pico de gallo, all served on a bed of cilantro rice. Also available in Steak or Veggie.”
Wow, that’s a lot of…everything Cantina. I don’t know whether to thank Taco Bell for making my job easier, or curse them for having to go through an excavation journey to unearth, photograph, and taste each of these unique individual items.
If you’re wondering about the Cantina Burrito, just take everything I say about the Cantina Bowl and dump it into a tortilla. Seriously. It’s the exact same stuff, but instead of using a fork, you can eat it while you drive, dumping creamy cilantro dressing on your crotch, which will make for an awkward situation when you’re talking to the cops after getting into a fender bender while picking corn and beans off the front of your shirt. “Officer, it’s creamy cilantro dressing, I swear! …No, that is not a euphemism!”
Here we have the bowl, in all its seven-new-ingredients glory. Actually, make that eight? While Taco Bell’s description of the Cantina Bowl makes no mention of lettuce, it is obviously present, luring you into thinking you might actually be eating a salad. The most crowded salad in the history of salads.
This, however, is no salad. ‘Tis a bowl. My bowl was handed to me at the drive-thru by a man with a large bandage on his finger, covered by a plastic glove. Apparently he was not competent enough to cut tortillas into triangles for their in-house tortilla chips.
Well, he didn’t do much better at the drive-thru, as my Cantina Bowl was sideways in the bag he handed to me, and the lid was also not secured, resulting in some of my citrus-herb marinated chicken spilling into the bag and everything shifting sideways. I shook the bowl back into place and put the chicken back in when I got home, giving no fucks that it had touched the probably-unsanitary bag. I’ve eaten off worse.
Okay, let’s break this shit down. For my own sense of organization, we’ll go from bottom to top.
Cilantro rice:
Described by Taco Bell as: “Our fluffy white rice contains an authentic hint of cilantro and perfectly compliments any Cantina Bowl or Burrito.”
My experience: The rice was indeed fluffy and well-cooked; it was moist and tasty, but they must really be emphasizing the “hint” part of cilantro, because I detected no cilantro taste at all. And I know my cilantro.
Black beans:
Taco Bell: Described as “tasty and flavorful”. Not much to say about beans, I guess.
Me: As you might be able to tell by the picture, the beans were rather mushy. I didn’t mind, though; I love black beans, and these were full-flavored. Plus, their juices mixed in with the rice, which only added to the rice’s moistness and flavor.
Roasted corn & pepper salsa:
TB: “Includes sweet roasted corn and bright, beautiful red and green bell peppers.”
Me: The corn does, indeed, look roasted, and I was surprised that it actually tasted roasted, too. I didn’t really see any green peppers, but the little bits of red pepper added some nice color and a detectible bit of flavor.
Guacamole:
TB: “Our enticing guacamole includes real Hass avocados, ripe tomatoes, onions, cilantro, and a little kick of lime.”
Me: I call bullshit on this one. The guacamole does have a strong, authentic, delicious avocado flavor, but it’s more like avocado purée than guac. There are no chunks, and no taste of tomatoes, onions, cilantro, or lime, that I could tell. Hell, I’d still put it on just about anything I order from Taco Bell just because I love avocados, but don’t expect much other than creamy avocado that’s probably been pushed through a pastry bag.
TB: “Our grilled, premium white-meat chicken is marinated in a savory blend of lemon and fresh herbs.”
Me: I take issue with the word “premium”, here. My immediate thought upon eating the chicken was of those Foster Farms pre-cooked chicken strips that come in the red pouches. The chicken was moist, but had a processed texture to it. There was a hint of citrus flavor, but not as much as I would have liked, and I don’t know what kind of herbs they used, but I couldn’t taste any of them.
Pico de gallo:
Taco Bell and I pretty much agree here. Tomatoes, onions, and cilantro. The tomatoes were fresh and the onions were crunchy, which are pretty much the only places you can go wrong with pico. I didn’t bother taking a picture because if you can’t imagine chopped tomatoes and onions mixed with cilantro, you have no culinary imagination. Plus, I was pretty tired of taking pictures at this point.
Creamy cilantro dressing:
Taco Bell has no specific description of the dressing on their website, and neither do I, because I couldn’t find an appreciable amount to take a picture of, nor could I really taste a specific cilantro dressing-like substance.
After carefully partitioning and tasting each of the individual ingredients, I was finally able to eat the Cantina Bowl in what I assume was its intended form, and by that I mean, I took my fork and mixed all that shit together into a giant mass of Cantina ingredients. The result? In this case, I’d have to say the whole was greater than the sum of its parts. While some of the ingredients were disappointing by themselves, with everything mixed together, there were lots of different textures, from the crunchiness of the corn and onions to the creaminess of the “guacamole”. I have to believe there was actually some dressing in there, because everything was very moist.
Overall, I have to say Taco Bell’s Cantina Bowl was just okay. There were some hits, like the texture of the rice and the flavor of the beans, and some misses, like the processed feel of the chicken and the disappointing lack of cilantro flavor, despite it being a key part of several ingredients. Also, the Bell makes a big deal in proclaiming that the lettuce is romaine, but it looked and tasted just like regular shredded iceberg to me.
I might give some of the other Cantina Bell items a try – maybe the bean and rice bowl, heck, why not throw some of that avocado paste on top – but the next time I go to Taco Bell, I won’t be getting another Cantina Bowl. I appreciate the effort TB took in revitalizing their menu, but the overall execution was lacking in the flavors it promised.
Good luck on Top Chef Masters, Lorena Garcia. Perhaps you’ll fare better there than you did at Taco Bell. And if Bravo and its sponsors have anything to say about it, I’m sure you’ll do just fine.
Score: 3 out of 5 totally-not-rigged reality TV cooking shows
Price: $4.79
Size: 1 bowl
Purchased at: Taco Bell #004989
Nutritional Quirks: I had this odd feeling I was eating something mildly healthy while consuming the Cantina Bowl. Sure enough, it has less calories and fat than the chicken Fiesta Taco Salad, weighing in at an impressive-for-fast-food 560 calories and 22 grams of fat.
I kicked off my reviews of Burger King’s Summer Menu with the Bacon Sundae, defying tradition and having my dessert first. Burger King says I can have it my way, and I’m doing it, dammit.
Next up, we have our side dish and main course – namely, Sweet Potato Fries and the Memphis BBQ Pulled Pork Sandwich.
Burger King Sweet Potato Fries
Sweet potatoes seem to be the most recent trend making the rounds at major fast food restaurants. I’m sure they’ve been available regionally, somewhere, in some places I’m too lazy to look up, but recently they’ve been introduced on a nationwide level on the big chains’ menus. Sonic has Sweet Potato Tots, Wendy’s recently introduced their own Sweet Potato Fries, And Chick-fil-A had Sweet Potato Waffle Fries, although that seemed to be a limited edition item.
Not to be outdone, Burger King now has their own Sweet Potato Fries.
Burger King describes these fries as “sweet and savory alternative to our French fries, served hot and freshly prepared, they are the perfect combination of salty and sweet. Enjoy the crispy outside and the tender sweetness on the inside.”
I’ve never actually had sweet potato fries before, so this was a completely new experience for me. I am not used to my fries being an even brighter orange than The Thing. Foods like carrots and oranges obviously share a similar hue, but if I’m going to Burger King, I’m not there to improve my eyesight or ward off scurvy. I’m there to improve my chances of getting Type II diabetes.
The fries had a nice texture; they were crunchy without being hard, and were, as advertised, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. They also seemed longer than regular fries, with very few short fries in the box. I hate when half my order of fries turn out to be an inch long. Fries are made for dipping, and short fries make that messy and difficult.
Speaking of dipping, I ate my Sweet Potato Fries straight, because I was unsure what would be the appropriate dip for them. Again, as promised, they were both sweet and savory, but seemed to lean more towards the sweet side.
Unfortunately, my fries seemed to be undersalted. With more salt, I feel like the sweet and savory balance would have been more even, which would have led to a more enjoyable sweet potato fry experience. They were also lukewarm at best, despite my local Burger King being less than a five minute drive away from my home. I can’t hold that against the fries, though; that can often be attributed to the vagaries of different restaurant locations.
Burger King’s Sweet Potato Fries were a new experience for me, and I was happy to have tried them. I’m not a big fan of sweet and savory together, but even with the salt level not being up to my taste, I did eat the whole order. As fries go, the texture was pretty much ideal – just the right crispiness on the outside, with tender innards. There was an almost negligible number of soggy, overcooked, or short fries, which is a rare thing in my fast food experience.
If you’re into sweet and savory, Burger King’s Sweet Potato Fries will be right up your alley. Get ’em while you can, though; Burger King’s Summer Menu obviously will only last…well, through the summer, I’m assuming. If you don’t understand the concept of seasons, then I can’t help you.
Burger King Mephis BBQ Pulled Pork Sandwich
I’ve never been to Memphis, or the South, or to any place that’s really known for their barbecue prowess. However, between the Food Network and the Travel Channel, I’ve probably seen about 15 different shows about barbeque. I’ve also had some really great pulled pork from local BBQ joints. I’m not claiming that either of these things makes me an expert by any means, but I’m pretty confident that I can tell the difference between good barbecue and crappy barbeque.
Let the indignant comments from residents of true barbecue cities commence!
And yes, I do plan to spell bar-b-que in all of the different and yet “officially” acceptable ways throughout this review. I like to keep it fresh.
Burger King’s official description of their BBQ sandwich: “The Memphis BBQ Pulled Pork Sandwich combines tender pulled pork with the hickory-smoked and sweet flavor of Memphis BBQ Sauce, topped with sliced onions, and a sweet southern sauce, all on a warm, toasted artisan-style bun.”
Hm. Both “Memphis BBQ sauce and “sweet southern sauce”? I’m not even sure what the latter means, but we’ll see how these two play together.
Speaking of the sauces, we’ll start with those first. As you can see, there was some…runoff from my sandwich. Despite looking somewhat unappealing, this did give me the chance to taste the sauces separately. I found the sweet southern sauce to be tangy and, indeed, a little sweet, but the flavor wasn’t overpowering. I’d like to think this was engineered, as one wouldn’t want the southern sauce to overwhelm one of the key components of any bbq sandwich, which is, of course, the barbecue sauce.
Unfortunately, the Q sauce is a letdown. It basically tastes like the barbeque sauce you would dip your chicken nuggets into. Into which you would dip your nuggets. I want to say it’s a little bit richer, but that may just be my mouth trying not to think Burger King would disgrace the good name of barbecue by just dumping little dipping tubs of sauce onto their Memphis BBQ Pulled Pork Sandwiches.
BK appears to use their regular sesame seed hamburger buns for the Memphis sandwich, which was a poor choice. Due to the inherent flimsiness of fast food buns and the plethora of sauce, my pulled pork sandwich was soggy as hell right from the start, and continued to disintegrate drastically as I ate it. Barbecue is supposed to be messy, but I expect more than a sad bun that disappears into mushy nothingness when I’m eating a pulled pork sandwich.
Let’s get to the meat of things, HAHAHAHA okay. The pork exceeded my expectations, but my expectations were admittedly low to begin with. Parts of the meat were thinly shredded and tender, which was enjoyable, but there were also punctuations of large, dry chunks, which were disappointing. Each bite was a crapshoot on what quality of pork I would get. The onions added a little crunch, which was nice, but didn’t really add any flavor to the sandwich.
A fast food restaurant taking on “real” bar-b-que and having the balls to call it the Memphis BBQ Pulled Pork Sandwich is already setting itself up for failure, or, at the very least, intense scrutiny. Unfortunately for Burger King, their execution was pretty much what was expected. Sub-par sauce, a soggy bun, flavorless onions, and inconsistent meat texture. The one good thing I can say is that the pulled pork surprised me in that there were actual hints of tender shredded meat hidden under all that sauce that almost made me believe I was eating actual barbecue.
My advice to fast food restaurants is this: do not mess with something as iconic as barbecue. It’s too risky. Stick to coming out with outrageous shit, like sticking a milkshake inside a hamburger or something. That way, nobody can ever fault you for being inauthentic or sub-par, because nobody knows what the fuck you’re doing in the first place.
Burger King Summer Menu: Sweet Potato Fries
Score: 4 out of 5 foods The Thing can relate to
Price: $2.09
Size: Small
Purchased at: Burger King #17145
Nutritional Quirks: Nothing too crazy, but if anyone eats a ton of these and your skin turns orange, please let me know!
Burger King Summer Menu: Memphis BBQ Pulled Pork Sandwich
Score: 1.5 out of 5 angry barbeque lovers
Price: $3.99
Size: 1 sandwich
Purchased at: Burger King #17145
Nutritional Quirks: BBQ sauce may actually just be BK’s dipping sauce. No confirmation on that.
Here we are, celebrating three years of the good, the bad, the odd, and bacon where bacon should not be. Thanks to everyone who has read my silly ramblings, skipped the ramblings to look at the pictures, and those who have left comments telling me how wrong I was about this or that.
It is a labor of love that I am glad to share with the Internet, and one that I will continue as long as those who create fast food and junk food come up with items that amuse and/or amaze me.
Either that, or one day I will eat something so terrifying that my body refuses to take any more of this abuse. One or the other.
Have any favorite posts you’ve read over the past three years? Let me know in the comments section! I look forward to hearing from you. Cheers!
Junk food and fast food reviews from a leftist perspective. We eat it so you don't have to!
Now this is Halloween. I hope those four simple words got that song from The Nightmare Before Christmas stuck in your head, because I have had it stuck in mine for three days now. I could think of worse Halloween songs. See: The Worst Witch.
