Review: Burger King Farmhouse King

Those of you who read this website (and are not my mother) are aware that the Shameless Consumer has two Burger Kings near his house, the good one and the bad one. The good one serves fresh food in a timely manner and probably prays to Jesus every night. The bad Burger King, on the other hand, not only worships the god of room temperature beef but as I noted in the previous review, its employees are armed and very much against the concept of extra ketchup packets.

Well folks, after years of complaining on the internet, my hard work has paid off. Following a call back from Burger King corporate in response to my Mushroom Swiss Big King and I was told in no uncertain terms that any further reviews would result in a defamation lawsuit, I convinced my neighbor who looks a lot like me to head over to Burger King in his trademark trench coat and Groucho Marx glasses and buy the Farmhouse King on my behalf, with my credit card, therefore not technically violating the restraining order because it wasn’t me.

It looks like they’ve cleaned up their act. Service was quick, I’m told, and the fries were fresh, allegedly. The burger was served hot enough to sort of melt the cheese, and they trained the dog that sleeps in the kitchen to not lick the patties as the workers are adding the condiments. A+ improvements!

Whereas the Big King line of burgers were either nasty mushroom/mayonnaise abominations or low quality Big Mac ripoffs, Burger King decided to open their creative side with the King line of burgers, by which I mean reaching back into the Greg Brenneman playbook of piling meat and cheese, and by god is it glorious. Forget ripping off McDonald’s with the “Big” prefix, this burger is the king full stop.

Currently Burger King is running three variants of the King: Farmhouse King, Rodeo King, and Bacon King Jr. You heard me right, this burger is the junior version.

This is the Bacon King for those of you willing to clog your face arteries.

The Burger King Farmhouse King brings together the Shameless Consumer’s favorite parts of fast food, farmhouses and kings, combining breakfast and royalty together in such a way that hasn’t been seen since Ted Kennedy shot a White House intern for stealing the last Eggo waffle, thus coining the iconic phrase “if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.”

The Farmhouse King according to Shameless Consumer’s Nutritional Outreach Division is the most unhealthy item on Burger King’s menu, which explains why this thing is so damn tasty. No lie, this monster rakes in over 1,200 calories, more than the Triple Whopper or Arby’s Meat Mountain sandwich. It also boasts 2,050mg of sodium (about a 5 on the TGIF Loaded Potato Skin meter), 63g protein, 335mg cholesterol, and 80g fat.

To put this into further perspective, if the Farmhouse King burger was Clint Eastwood’s pistol in Dirty Harry and the sodium count was his bullets, then the whole product would probably be incredibly unsafe to flame broil. It’s actually much safer to deep fry a .44 magnum than it is to flame broil, for you gun nuts out there.

Burger King describes this burger as:

The FARMHOUSE KING™ Sandwich features more than ½ lb.* savory flame-grilled beef, topped with thick-cut smoked bacon, American cheese, crispy onions, ketchup, our creamy signature sauce and a fried egg all on a toasted sesame seed bun.

And congratulations to Burger King for doing something new, well sort of. What stands out in this burger more than anything is the signature sauce. I’m pretty sure that this has never been used in another Burger King product, but at the same time it tastes a lot like honey mustard. It’s quite potent and a small amount of sauce goes a long way. A surprise since Burger King tends to slather on the fixings enough to be considered assault with a deadly condiment.

What I’m trying to say is that there is a hell of a lot of burger here, enough to actually justify the $7 price tag. The specialty sauce adds a nice sweetness to the burger, which goes well with the crunchy canned onions and bacony baconness of the bacon. You’ll need to come into this meal with an appetite and maybe a blanket and pillow, as about halfway through I could already feel myself about ready to fall asleep. Or perhaps it was sodium shock, I’m too tired and dehydrated to figure it out.

The Farmhouse King is proof that a sandwich is a sandwich, but a Manwich is a meal and the Farmhouse King is your three day emergency food ration. In fact, Shameless Consumer’s Apocalypse Reserach Foundation is looking into taking the Farmhouse King and freeze drying large quantities of it to use as a food source for the inevitable nuclear war, or for those horrible all nighters, whichever comes first.

Don’t come to this sandwich with some snack-level appetite, Burger King is coming to the fast food heavyweight championships and they’re aiming to go home with the belt. This burger is tasty, filling, and has just the right combination of meat and sauce. I don’t recommend it as a regular meal, but as a once in a while “haven’t eaten all day and now I’m too tired and hungry to cook,” it’s a good deal.

Verdict: 5/5 – A delicious, not-so-nutritious meal that puts the king back in Burger King. Puts the competition to shame and has more salt than a Saltini family reunion.

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Review: Fish People Wild Crab Bisque

Today’s review comes to us from our good friends over at Nature Box, but it isn’t actually a Nature Box branded item. It is Fish People Wild Crab Bisque, but you probably already knew that if you read the subject line.

Fish People’s soups cost about $6 in stores and you get about 10 ounces of soup for your troubles. Not the cheapest product in the batch, but you should expect to get higher quality than your average Campbell’s Chunky or Progresso Low Sodium. The soups come in a handy pouch and take up minimal space, offering plenty of room in the cupboard for whatever else you put in a cupboard apart from a single packet of soup.

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One cool aspect of Fish People Sea Food is that they include a 7-digit code on the back of every package that tells you exactly where your product came from. This search function is probably more powerful than it needs to be, as I quickly discovered that the specific crab in this bisque was named Burt Shelldin of 82 Salt & Pepper Boulevard somewhere off the coast of [redacted] American Waters. While it’s great that Fish People wants to be transparent, I feel like they’re going overboard and almost trying to justify killing this crab, because it also included a mug shot and rap sheet, ending with an arrest in 2016 for “in-sea-dent exposure,” a charge which tells me that undersea police are either relentlessly stupid or really desperate to make ocean puns, highly inappropriate considering he allegedly exposed himself to tadpoles.

Like I said, it’s a unique feature but I could have lived my entire life without knowing that the crustacean community is experiencing a rampant herpes epidemic, or that enterprising little cretins like the one in my bowl had figured out a way to make millions of whatever the hell currency they use by cornering the market on vaccine supplies. The cure to crab herpes is crab bisque, in a morbid turn of events.

Fish People’s Wild Crab Bisque describes itself as:

This popular seafood soup serves up the Best of the West. Delectable crab and Pacific Pink shrimp, harvested from the depths of our local waters, are combined in a light cream sauce with sherry, sweet onions and hints of orange and cayenne.

The package claims that it feeds one hungry person, so I went and found a hungry person. Her name, incidentally, was Sherry. She was a vegan. I tried convincing her that this was vegan wild crab bisque, whatever that would look like, but she wasn’t taking the bait. Evidently the giveaway was that the food smelled edible. By this point I had worked up quite a hunger myself, so I set to work.

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The Shameless Consumer has two rules when it comes to seafood: Never buy gas station sushi and never turn down a good seafood bisque. This pouch can be microwaved or boiled in a pot of boiling water, but either way you’re probably going to want a bowl to pour it into, so the Shameless Consumer brought out his trusty Field & Stream brand mug, fit for only the heaviest of chowders and bisque.

Fish People’s crab bisque is delicious by the way, for those who haven’t already stopped reading after that whole bit about crab herpes. The ingredients are fantastic, a heavy cream bisque with a fair amount of crap shredded in for good taste. It isn’t heavy on the salt, like most other bagged seafood soups wind up being, and it perfectly hits the spot and warms the heart on a cold October evening.

Best of all, you can eat it right out of the pouch, making this a fine soup to eat at work and then dispose of in your neighbor’s cubicle. It’s oddly filling as well, not in the sense that you’ll be full to bursting but enough to satiate those hunger pains until dinner or second lunch, whichever comes first for you.

Ultimately, Fish People brand Crab Bisque is a tasty treat that can’t be beat, given its $6 price tag I would recommend having a few in the cabinet for the occasional pick me up. They are very shelf stable, the pouch that I bought didn’t expire until 2020.

Nutritional Highlights:
Calories: 310
Total Fat: 22g
Saturated Fat: 13 (65%)
Cholesterol: 135mg (45%)
Sodium: 560mg
Protein: 13g

Verdict: 4.5/5 – Eaten as quickly as it was cooked, the Fish People crab bisque may be gone, but our review shall forever leave imprinted on your mind the concept of crab herpes.

Review: Cotton Candy Twinkies

It’s Twinkie time! Special thanks to Bostwick Saltini of Bologna for sending this treat over, Bostwick’s note reads “your website is hilarious, please continue spreading the truth about the history of food. Also please don’t mention my name in your shoutout as association with Shameless Consumer is punishable by prison time in my country after you disparaged us in your Salted Caramel Moonpie review.” Thanks for the support, Bostwick. I don’t know if they have Olive Garden in your country, but I’m sending you a gift card regardless so you can taste some authentic Italian food.

Twinkie is as American as apple pie, moon pie, and cow pies, which means that any deviation from the norm is bound to cause controversy. The last thing you generally want to do with an iconic food is to muck with the ingredients, and new flavors with bad results will have a manufacturer strung up at high noon faster than you can say ‘treason is punishable by death.’

You may know of the Twinkie as that delicious snack cake that went away for a while a couple of years ago and then pretty quickly came right back. It’s a treat that has found its way into children’s lunchboxes for well over a millennia.

The real history is a little different, however the Taste in Reviews board at Shameless Consumer Industries will not allow me to discuss the true history of the Twinkie as it was deemed too pornographic for the general audience. I won’t go into much detail, but I think most adults can figure out the origin behind a “pound cake” stuffed with “banana cream filling,” especially when you look at the close connection between the Twinkie and the tater tot. You getting me? Wink wink, nudge nudge, you might want to look at Weird Al’s Twinkie Weiner Sandwich.

The Shameless Consumer has an affinity for the Twinkie because it reminds the Shameless Consumer of the Shameless Consumer. We’re both rubbery, a bit on the sweaty side, and we’re both chock full of banana flavored filling. One is an American tradition, the other simply an American hero. If the Moon Pie is the Batman of this story, the Twinkie is Robin and candy corn is the Solomon Grundy.

Cotton Candy flavored treats have a habit of carrying an oddly bitter aftertaste. Thankfully replicating cotton candy is easy since you can actually use the cotton candy sugar in the recipe, and thus not have to go through the arguably pointless process of artificially recreating what is already artificial. That’s too far down the rabbit hole, and frankly you’re already too deep when you’re making cotton candy flavored candy.

The Twinkie itself is your standard pound cake shell, it’s a bit greasy and mostly serves as the carrier vessel for the filling inside. The filling is nice and fluffy, almost pillowy, reminiscent of those times when I would come home late at night from the fair and hide some cotton candy under the pillow for some early morning snackage. Don’t knock bed cotton candy until you’ve tried it.

File this one under enjoyed more than I thought I would.

Verdict: 4/5 – A very potent snack that won’t change the opinion of anyone who already hates Twinkies. In fact, it’ll probably reinforce how much you dislike them. Something to buy once and then laugh over its memory.

Dollary Duesdays: Fast Bites BBQ Rib Sandwich

(Editor’s Note: This review is not sponsored by McDonald’s, but it could be. Hit me up, Ron.)

Going into this review, the first ground rule that the Shameless Consumer must throw down is that I love ribs, but I’m not a fan of rib sandwiches. Why? Because I love ribs, and part of the experience of eating a rack of ribs is ripping the meat from the bone like an animal. It’s one of the few times you really get to eat with your hands, like corn on the cob or a nice heavy chowder soup.

Rib sandwiches, meanwhile, very rarely have any actual rib meat in them. They’re like the blondes of the fast food world, you constantly find yourself wondering if they’re natural or not. In the case of the McRib, the meat is actually various parts you wouldn’t think about from the pig, like the heart, stomach, etc. It’s tasty, but it’s not a rib. For Banquet’s rib patties, I assume it’s mostly taint, eyeballs, and tongue drippings that the butcher’s dog chewed up before losing its appetite.

Back in 2005, McDonald’s held a competition where they asked the public to submit their own backstory for the McRib. In reality, this is because McDonald’s doesn’t have the story on file, and they were hoping some smarty pants would point it out in an effort to look smart. Their historian tragically left the company in 2012 after someone ate his last ice cream he’d kept in the freezer for a Friday pick-me-up, you know the Popsicle Sprinklers? They don’t make them anymore, and who the hell does Rich from accounting think he is eating someone else’s ice cream when just last week he’d been whining about people drinking his San Pellegrino, reminding everyone how expensive the prickly pear flavor is. But that’s neither here nor there.

Thankfully Shameless Consumer Industries has built a reputation on stealing corporate secrets and hiding them away in our vault, never to be released unless a review demands it. The real history behind the McRib is pretty boring, dating back to 1956 with the honoring of Marshall Cleyton Ribinski, Barbecue Lord of Wilmington Delaware. Marshall Ribinski’s life was saved responding to an armed robbery at a local diner that he just so happened to be patronizing, when a bullet aimed for his ribs was deflected by a jar of barbecue sauce.

Ribinski disarmed the thief with a well aimed pork rib, cementing his status as Barbecue Lord and from that point on everyone in town called him Marshall McRib.  Since Marshall McRib took on his duties across numerous towns in Delaware, he only showed up for a little while every couple of years, and as such he became something of a legend whenever he did appear in town. Incidentally the Marshall’s arrival seemed to coincide with low pork prices, but that could just be an old wive’s tale.

In August of 1980, the Marshall decided to eat lunch at a local McDonald’s while doing his rounds in Smyrna, Delaware. Confused when the Marshall was greeted by an old friend in line, the cashier mistakenly placed an order for a McRib, which the chef naturally did not know how to cook. The issue was sent up the corporate line to Michael Quinlain himself, who found interest in the idea of a McRib and ordered the McDonald’s McResearch and McDevelopment team to McFigure it out. After briefly fighting over who got to lick the spoon, the team produced a boneless rib sandwich and the rest, as they say, is history. The first McRib was actually served in Smyrna in 1981, although not to Marshall Ribinski as his wife was no longer allowing him to eat high cholesterol foods by that point.

We know that McDonald’s supports our boys in blue as the McRib itself is a living reminder of Marshall Ribinski. You may have seen the four stripes on the McRib and thought that they were supposed to represent rib bones. They aren’t, that would be disgusting to simulate bones in a sandwich. Rather, you’ll notice that each McRib always has four points. This is to signify the four times that the Marshall had responded to cases at the McDonald’s in Smyrna. The odd addition of pickles is to honor Delaware, where Vlasic’s manufacturing plant remained in Milsboro until 2012. The onions are in honor of ancient Delaware beliefs that onions and pork could cure inflammation and soreness, effectively qualifying the McRib as a health food. As for the sauce, well sometimes you just have to keep a secret.

And you all thought that the McRib looks this way by luck.

But today we’re talking about the Fast Bites barbecue rib sandwich, not so much the John Lennon of rib sandwiches as it is the Yoko Ono. Its ingredient list is longer than your average Grateful Dead concert and contains 2% or less of the following products: food, but it does have enough acid to satisfy a crowd of disappointed Woodstock hippies. Maybe that’s the problem, the Shameless Consumer didn’t do enough acid before eating the sandwich.

Naturally the rib sandwich looks nothing like it does on the box, much like hooking up with someone you found on Tinder only to realize that the photo was taken five years ago of her twin sister, the one who actually took care of herself.

The sandwich itself is actually rather boring, its barbecue sauce is the same generic stuff that you find in every frozen barbecue meat. It’s tomato based, sweet, and not awful but highly generic. As for the pork patty itself, I’d get a more satisfying grill mark by setting it down on hot pavement and letting it cook for a good hour or so. So I did, the flavor increased tenfold.

Unfortunately the bun was terrible, becoming hard in the microwave and chewy. Ultimately, the Fast Bites Barbecue Rib Sandwich fulfills its role: a cheap $1 rib sandwich for when you’re drunk and out of money, and McDonald’s doesn’t feel like selling the McRib. It isn’t nauseating, like the Dollar Store Steak, but that’s a story for another day.

Verdict: 1/5 – Generic barbecue sauce with generic low quality tasting pork. Not the dollar store steak.

Review: Popeye’s Cheddar Biscuit Shrimp With Ghost Pepper Jam

Marco Brambilla’s Demolition Man movie depicts the far future of 2032 where violence and sex are a thing of the past, everyone is PC and weak, and the only surviving music are tv ad jingles. While most people assume that this movie was a fictional story, the Shameless Consumer can confirm that these are actual events that will occur in our future. I should know, I came with Brambilla in the time machine. He wanted to warn everyone about the impending dystopian future, I just wanted to get my hands on some French Toast Crunch. They discontinue it in 2020 and it never gets picked up again. Ask Marco yourself, he’ll deny knowing me just as violently as my family does.

But apart from the three seashells in the bathroom (which I will be reviewing in approximately ten years), the thing most people remember about the movie are the franchise wars. All that Marco tells the audience is that Taco Bell won the franchise wars, and thus every restaurant is Taco Bell. In reality, Taco Bell didn’t win the franchise wars, Marco and I went to Taco Bell after coming back to the far past (the more recent past for you folks) and got some Taco Bell, and the guy put sour cream in his nacho supreme even though he asked for no sour cream, and Marco got pissed and decided to slander them and make them pay for product placement.

What you didn’t see was the scene after Sylvester Stallone eats at the fancy Taco Bell restaurant where Marco shot a very long, graphic, and detailed scene of Stallone’s mud butt. The scene was cut to avoid an NC-17 rating. In all honesty, Little Caesar’s wins the franchise wars because all of their restaurants were secretly built to withstand improvised explosives. Test it out for yourself! Nobody eats pizza in the future.

But enough about history, or more specifically your future and my history, let’s talk about Popeye’s.

Popeye’s is the distinctly not-KFC chicken brand that people love to eat, and like its eventual Kentucky Fried Arsonist (check back in 2022 for more information), Popeye’s pretty regularly comes out with new ways to batter its food. The latest is cheddar biscuit butterfly shrimp, shrimp coated in none other than cheddar biscuit breading.

Who doesn’t like cheddar biscuits, apart from the unborn or Nazis, and who doesn’t like Popeye’s apart from the arsonists hired by KFC five years from now? Nobody, that’s who.

If Red Lobster ever commissioned Lush to develop a cheddar biscuit bath bomb, it probably wouldn’t be as powerful as the smell coming out of this box. It’s like my nose is an unsupervised Vietnamese child navigating hundreds of miles of cheddar biscuit landmines left over from the franchise wars. I’d like to stick two of these pieces of shrimp up my nose and leave them there, ensuring that the delicious smell of cheddar and biscuits never leaves me.

In case my analogy was too offensive, what I’m trying to say is that the Shameless Consumer can’t get enough of the cheddar biscuit smell. If God sent his only child down to modern day America to act as a sacrifice, as he does in 2027 to end the franchise wars, he would probably show up in the form of a living cheddar biscuit. But enough educating for today, I’m just waxing poetic on my past.

What you get is a thickly breaded shrimp that oozes biscuity goodness. The cheddar takes a back end to the biscuit flavor, the two parts melding into a delicious concoction. For comparison, imagine taking the top part of a Red Lobster biscuit, the crispy yet slightly chewy, buttery, cheddary biscuit, and wrapping it around a shrimp. That is the Popeye’s Cheddar Biscuit Shrimp.

And I’m surprised to say that the pepper jelly was quite tasty despite being called “ghost pepper” and not being even slightly spicy. It is quite sweet and peppery, and goes well with the shrimp.

Ultimately, I have to give this a two thumbs up, for $5 with a side and biscuit, it’s not a bad deal.

Verdict; 4.5/5 – The sauce could be spicier. I am about to be sued by KFC, Popeye’s, Lush, Marco Brambilla, and very likely the FBI anti-terrorism unit. They are all wrong.

It Came From Blue Apron: Roasted Beef & Farro Salad

Here at Shameless Consumer Industries, we like to follow the KISS rule, which stands for Kevin (Bacon) Isn’t Sheriff, Stupid. What that means is while food should look good, it should emphasize satisfaction and filling. Don’t serve me pretty air. Like when you hear about those five thousand dollar platters at three star Michelin restaurants on TV only to see the waiter bring out the tray and the whole meal is smaller than what you’d serve an infant.

Like Nature Box, Blue Apron was an idea that the Shameless Consumer had because he heard it on the radio show. Which show? All of them. These days you can’t listen to the radio, a podcast, hear voices in the fillings in your teeth, or intercept private Russian communications without someone being sponsored by Blue Apron. In fact, scientific studies show that Shameless Consumer is the only entity left on earth not sponsored by Blue Apron. Even you are, check your big toe for your branding.

Let’s talk about cost. Blue Apron costs $60 per week for three, two serving meals. If you’re single and hate shopping for dinner ingredients and don’t mind paying a premium, it’s great. Otherwise, I dare any one of you to find me a universe where a standard meal is more than $10 per serving. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Blue Apron is also great for simple meals that are pretty elegant, not simple like instant mashed potatoes but not difficult like Beef Wellington. My cousin died from Beef Wellington disease, a story I’m sticking to even though the coroner has sued to keep me silent. They keep telling me he’s alive and well in Birmingham, and even went as far as to set up a double who still visits on Christmas. I suppose we all go through the stages of grief in different ways.

This is probably the point where you expect me to talk about the history of roast beef, to which some book nerd is thinking that it is Swedish for beef that is roasted, when any educated person is aware of its origins as a racist slur against Ottomans living in Greece in the late 1400’s. Plus, we don’t have time for history, we have beef to cook.

Where’s the beef? I know where…

Anyway, the roast beef needs to hit room temperature before we can do anything with it, and that’s going to take some time. Come back in like, fifteen or twenty minutes. So how is everyone’s summer going? See any good movies? Did you know that it’s been like five weeks since the last Shameless Consumer review? Who is the lazy moron that runs that webs-oh hey the beef is set.

We place our immaculately seasoned beef into a pan of heated olive oil and flip occasionally. Now the Shameless Consumer likes his meat like he likes his food poisoning: Rare and from meat, so we’re going to take the lower end of the cooking times. If you want to go for more well done, unfortunately nobody can help you.

Now that the beef has been pan fried, we eat. I’m just kidding, but look at that beef. We’ll need to transfer the beef to our oven and cook for 8-10 minutes. I’m going for 8, at a lower temperature. While the beef roasts, we’ll be cooking the Farro for 16-18 minutes. Gee, woulda been good to start with that, right Blue Apron? You kinda have to read ahead, because the next step usually starts as the previous step is still going. It’s like a crappy choose your own adventure novel.

Anyway, bippity boppity boo, and dinner’s done for two. I’m going to skip the rest of the steps since I’m sure you’re aware of how to put vegetables on a pan until they’re cooked, and Shameless Consumer Industries will probably be relieved that I’m not spending a review making comparisons to the Nazi movement. It’s a pretty simple method of cooking the food until it’s cooked, mostly by pan cooking or roasting in the oven. This is what I like about Blue Apron, it has simple recipes that even lazy food bloggers like yours truly can cook to not write about.

The ultimate meal turned out to be sort of a hodgepodge of stuff, with the farro acting as the emotional support, telling the olives that existence is an illusion and that we will all die one day. I’m hesitant to talk about the specific ingredients because this recipe isn’t exact and can change pretty heavily based on your cooking ability.

Regardless, the whole meal was pretty tasty and easy to cook. I have to hand it to Blue Apron, I expected the service to be sub par and overpriced, but found the food to be quite tasty albeit overpriced. I could always buy my own ingredients, but who wants to go to grocery stores? Amazon sells everything I need!

If you’re a cook and don’t care about buying the ingredients yourself, I recommend checking out Blue Apron’s website. You can actually see their recipes and try it out for yourself without having a subscription.

Verdict: 4/5 – I underestimated just how much farro this meal came with, wound up with enough for two gigantic servings. The roast beef was a good cut, and the ingredients were fresh and tasty. My presentation wasn’t great, but then again I’m just shoveling this into my mouth hole so who cares.

Dollary Duesdays #1: Fast Choice Double Beef Stacker

Dollary Duesdays is an idea that the Shameless Consumer had while held up in the local Dollar Tree waiting for the police outside to give the all clear to leave. Shameless Consumer is something of an expensive project, primarily because most of my reviews don’t actually make it to the public, so we’ve been looking for some cheap ideas to fill in the calendar. Don’t look at me, blame my supervisor. He hasn’t been hired yet.

The Dollar Tree is a veritable playground of sorts, it’s a window into an industry that has been given the green light to legally poison the poor while referring to their products as “food.” So this segment, which is planned for release on Tuesdays, will focus entirely on items that cost one dollar, available at the dollar store!

The Fast Choice Double Beef Stacker was made by an old Shameless Consumer friend, AdvancedPierre. The product is described as:

 Flame broiled beef patties with American cheese on a sesameseed bun.

Yea, sure. One thing I’d like to point out is that this product has a preparation time.

To Thaw: For best results, thaw before heating. Thaw sandwiches in refrigerator overnight. Sandwiches can be stored in refrigerator for up to 14 days.

You want me to thaw my frozen burger? I must apologize to the Shameless Consumer viewers out there (hi mom!), clearly a clerical error was made with this purchase. I was told that I would be reviewing Fast Choice, not Thaw in Fridge Overnight Choice.

What kind of schmuck thaws his dollar store burgers overnight in the fridge? I’m not buying this because I’m planning out my meals, Fast Choice, I have this burger because a hostage situation at the Boost Mobile store next door forced me into the Dollar Tree, and I was hungry and had a dollar in my pocket. The Boost Mobile employee said he was just signing the guy up for a contract, but that didn’t convince the police to not shoot him in the face with a tear gas canister.

One thing that the Shameless Consumer can’t get over is that this sandwich has all of the flavor and texture of a yoga mat. I’m not entirely sure if it’s possible to boil a hamburger, but Fast Choice somehow figured out how to recreate the texture and watery flavor. The burger itself isn’t as much juicy as it is pumped with large quantities of water, it’s like biting into a poorly sealed dumpling.

I also couldn’t figure out why the sandwich had a mild taste of rot, which the scientists over in R&D tracked down to the presence of Hydrolyzed Corn Protein in the seasoning. If you don’t know what that is, just read this.

Hydrolyzed corn protein is water soluble, and considered to be safe in food amounts. However it is rarely used in human food consumption because of its strong, fermented taste.

On the plus side, Fast Choice does contain Vitamin A Palminate, meaning this burger can literally prevent night blindness. It also holds the building blocks of life itself, no doubt an unintentional and ironic part of this food’s conception.

AdvancedPierre’s top of the line burgers run for around $2.50, so if you’d like a good summary of how bad this product is, imagine that they created a budget version and didn’t feel like putting their brand on the package. Whereas I commended the higher tier burger for how its bun reacted in the microwave, this one was overly dense and kept its shape by having the consistency of memory foam mattress stuffing.

If this burger had been greasy, it would have been just what the doctor ordered: A sloppy $1 burger with flavorless beef and flavorless cheese.

But it isn’t, it’s watery. I didn’t finish more than half of it.

Verdict: 1/5 – The disappointing child of the AdvancedPierre family. Didn’t microwave properly. Tastes like water.

Shameless Consumer Wants The Juicero: A $399 Packet Squeezer

Shameless Consumer Industries doesn’t generally use its leverage of the only food network to be explicitly endorsed by President Obama (in coded language during the announcement of Osama Bin Laden’s assassination) to get stuff, but ol’ Sha’Meless was reclining back, digesting the remnants of last Sunday’s Easter candy when he happened upon an article describing the Juicero, a product that somehow escaped my gaze despite raising $120 million in capital funds.

The concept of the Juicero is pretty simple, it’s a $500 device that squeezes packets of juice into a cup, upon which you drink the contents of said cup. Brilliant! I’ll take five, put it on my credit card and then throw the credit card away because there’s no way I’m paying that bill off and frankly it’s the bank’s fault for ignoring my credit score when I applied for said card.

Juicero uses fresh fruits and vegetables and the machine itself can apparently press with the kind of force that could lift two Teslas. I can empathize, as I’ve often found myself tired out after squeezing the Velveeta cheese packet with the force of two small kittens butting heads.

How can you not like this concept? It’s like a Keurig but cold, a Soda Stream for healthy drinks, a safer version of the contraption I built to siphon gravy out of chicken wing leftovers. Naturally I dug out the Shameless Consumer Corporate Credit Card and went straight to Juicero’s website to buy me a big stinkin’ Juicero and a bunch of those juice packets.

They wouldn’t sell me one.

It wasn’t because the credit card was stolen, which it technically wasn’t because I’m still an employee. Juicero does not currently deliver to Shameless Consumer Industries (I’ll let you know when I figure out where that is) and flat out refuse to provide us with a machine.

Juicero does not currently ship to the Shameless Consumer’s state, or any of the neighboring states, or really any of the states that neighbor the neighboring states. Despite this, they have the audacity to advertise a limited time drink called Granate Glow, which they describe as:

There are no words in the English language that sufficiently describe how good Granate Glow is (trust us: we’ve tried). Don’t settle for the soulless stuff on a grocery store shelf—our Granate Glow is fresh, raw, and mindblowingly invigorating. Consider yourself warned: you’ll never go back to bottled juice again.

Sure, Juicero, challenge the world’s greatest food wordsmith to describe a product that he can’t have.

So I’d like to meet in the middle. I accept your challenge, Juicero, as well as the Juicero system and the Granate Glow packet. Send me this device and I shall concoct a wordsmithing that will have you soiling your pants like you drank too much juice.

Have your people call my people, you know where to reach me. What are you, chicken gravy?

Review: Marshmallow Peeps Trio (Easter Edition)

Fun story: So the Shameless Consumer was sitting at his desk eating his usual lunch of Rolos and plain, unsweetened green tea, when the folks over in research and development come over and threw this down on the desk. Cherry Limeade Peeps. Assuming that I was in the midst of a stroke, I reasonably asked one of the two men to use the golf club taped underneath my desk to quickly put me out of my misery. They simply walked away laughing.

Undeterred, I strolled right into the office of the VP of Shameless Consumer Industries and submitted my resignation. He didn’t even read the not-so-subtle comments about his mother’s taste for disgusting perversions like Domino’s Pizza before slapping the page with a giant “rejected” stamp (I have no idea where he got the stamp). So I, kindly, and in between lobbing a barrage of vulgar and in hindsight possibly racist obscenities at him, requested to be fired again. That was denied. I ran over the VP’s dog, he promoted me to the nonexistent title of “Foreman of Peeps.” I shot the VP, he somehow managed to pile my desk with even more Peeps to review by the time I got back.

In order to better explain the craze for Marshmallow Peeps, I’d like to bring to my audience’s attention the concept of Freeganism, where Brooklyn hipsters save hundreds of dollars a month by dumpster diving and eat otherwise fresh, still packaged food that’s been thrown out because companies like Trader Joe’s weren’t able to sell it. Imagine if these people didn’t care about the quality of food going into their bodies, and you have those who enjoy Peeps.

If that analogy didn’t work for your, imagine Marshmallow Peeps as the modern Neo-Nazi movement. You rarely see someone eating a Peep in close proximity, but you hear about areas where it’s gotten really popular and you see people talking about their love of it online all the time. Bring it up in conversation however and everyone in the room will quickly disavow any knowledge or association with peep lovers.

1. Cherry Limeade Peeps

This product is described as:

“Cherry Limeade! Sour cherry dipped in lime fudge and graciously sprinkled with regret and the unfulfilled wishes of puppies recently turned roadkill.”

I may be editorializing a bit on that, but it doesn’t matter. One must wonder who in this world has been buying Peeps to the level that the company continues to pump out increasingly disgusting flavor combinations dipped in what I can only assume to be a combination of stomach acid and Chlorox Bleach.

And since Peeps brand isn’t merely content with bastardizing the term “marshmallow,” they’ve gone and taken a hatchet to the term “fudge,” using it to describe whatever they’re dipping the Peeps in. I don’t know what Limeade fudge is, I even went through the trouble of sending an email to Gordon Ramsay’s PR people who responded and told me to never contact them again.

One aspect I’m having trouble wrapping my head around is why the Peeps taste like soap. Imagine if Dial for some reason decided to make a cherry slush flavored soap, let’s say the CEO decides he’s going to poison a bunch of children in a way that has plausible deniability, this Peep is very close to what that product might taste like.

The limeade fudge is an oddity, because I still have no idea what it is, Gordon Ramsay isn’t answering my 911 calls, and I have an interesting theory as to where the flavor comes from. Otherwise, it has that distinct, acidy, candy lime flavor. In effect, the Peeps company took cherry peeps and dipped them in melted Lime Runts, which explains what Nestle did with the leftover flavoring after they discontinued Lime Runts in the late 90’s.

Verdict: 1/5 – Tastes like battery acid dipped in lime candy.

2. Raspberry Peeps

I have to give Peeps credit where credit is due, this is easily the best of the trio. Going back to my previous comment, this peep did not immediately smell of stomach acid and bleach, the scent was a highly muted raspberry. Peeps also deserves points for making a genuine raspberry candy, ie: not going the route of blue raspberry which tends to be more acidic and tart.

The fudge is, thankfully, just a neutral creme flavor and is not, as the purple color may imply, raspberry fudge. The pairing is decent, a fruity creamy mixture. It’s tame enough to be inoffensive to anyone who eats it.

I don’t have much to say about this product, so I’ll skip to some Peeps trivia. Have you ever wondered what those eyes are made out of? It turns out, Peep eyes are made out of Carnauba Wax, which is an edible, nontoxic, and it’s also used in wax products so it’s great for uneducated suburban moms to wax poetic about how inherently dangerous it must be on their blogs.

Another thing Peeps have going for them is sugar. It’s not great, but 10g of sugar per Peep is a lot less than I expected for a product that appears to basically be whipped sugar dipped in sugar.

Verdict: 3/5 – After eating two of the three, I decided that it would be better without the creme fudge. 

3. Vanilla Caramel Brownie

These aren’t half bad, but they’re not very good either. The vanilla brownie Peeps are filled with caramel, but it’s fake caramel, and the marshmallow itself is vanilla, but it’s fake vanilla (synthetic vanillin). The caramel is low quality, but I do like the fact that it is pumped throughout the Peep.

The best way I’ve found to describe the caramel is to take the stuff you find in a Milky Way and imagine that that is 5 star chef made caramel in comparison to this. It mimics the caramel like Ditto mimics another Pokemon, if you see it out of the corner of your eye, in passing, and you happen to be blind then you might be convinced you’re looking at a real Pikachu. Otherwise on Easter you’re probably better off eating the actual candy you received.

Again, I have to give Peeps an A for effort, but the presentation is like a good looking gingerbread house but all of the pieces are put together with glue, so you’d probably not want to eat the final product even if it is technically non-toxic.

Verdict: 2/5 – As far as Peeps go, this is more edible than the usual variety. 

Bonus: Confetti Peep Egg

No. Absolutely not. This egg smells like diabetes and the first and only bite I took of it has all the taste and texture of a mildly strawberry flavored packing material.

Verdict: N/A – Not my horse, not my barn.

Review: Smart Made Grilled Sesame Beef & Broccoli

The Shameless Consumer is a well known philanthropist and connoisseur when it comes to smart things made smartly by smart people, so when the new brand Smart Made by Smart Ones smartly struck the Smart Mart where the Smartful Smartsumer partakes in what less smart people might refer to as “shopping for groceries,” he couldn’t smart up the opportunismart for a smart meal with smart smartgredients. Can someone smart me a smartbulence? I think I’m smarting a stroke.

Smart Made by Smart Ones is a new brand offshoot looking to capitalize on the whole “ingredients you can pronounce” craze that’s sweeping the nation’s 7th grade reading level, words that don’t have too many syllables and sound just foreign enough to be exotic without sounding too foreign. You don’t want to go frightening everyone in WalMart. The first product I’ll be looking at is grilled sesame beef and broccoli, a meal made only with products I can pronounce like “vegetable blend,” “cooked brown rice,” and “seasoned cooked grilled sirloin beef steak strips and corn starch product.” Gotta love that corn starch product. I can pronounce all of those, I can even partially spell them.

Smart Made describes this product as “grilled sirloin beef with broccoli, roasted red peppers and onions over brown rice lightly tossed in soy sesame sauce.”

Despite all of its boasting about simplicity, Make Good’s cooking instructions include five steps. Step one is to vent, which following a thirty minute long tirade on the statistical health benefits of gradually adding Kraft cheese powder to the public drinking water, the only thing I’d accomplished was that the meal had started to thaw and leave beef condensation on my unopened copy of Copout on VHS. In the name of time, I decided to finish up step one and throw the dish into the microwave, punch in the odd symbols, and cook the bastard like yesterday’s yogurt.

Smart Made Sesame Beef & Broccolli by Smart Ones is a smart deal, and cooks up rather nice to boot. What you get is a healthy dose of steak, veggies, and rice, and just the right amount of sauce. Not so little that you’re desperately licking the sides of the bowl, but not too much that you can’t take a mid-meal nap without worrying about drowning.

The broccoli and snap peas were all kinds of crunchy, like running over a hard shell taco on a gravel driveway crunchy, and there was a surprising amount of beef considering how much the frozen food industry likes to skimp out on the meat. I did not notice a quantifiable number of sesame seeds on my beef, but I’m holding out hope that they’ll show up thanks to a somewhat misleading phone call to the police and the resulting amber alert sent out at 3am for a ‘Sasamay Se’yad.” I know someone is going to call me out for abusing emergency services, but unless you’re one of the eight, max nine phone calls that the 911 operator told me I’d tied up before giving up and doing what I said, you’re just complaining for no reason.

Frozen dinner technology has made great strides over the years, with the end result being that vegetables come out of the microwave with an impressive level of crunch and flavor. We’re quickly hitting a point where it’s getting hard to tell the difference between home cooked and flash frozen, although in my case the latter leaves me with my eyebrows intact and the apartment smelling less someone burned their eyebrows off. Just think of how far we’ve come since Soviet scientists completed groundbreaking tests back in 1964, successfully flash freezing a German Shepard named Beef Stroganoff only to later unfreeze him with scientists remarking that the tests were 100% safe and could be replicated with a low sodium soy sauce.

The sauce itself falls into the usual category of ‘could use some pepper.’ There’s not a whole lot of variety in soy sauce mixed with pineapple juice, but the meal makes good of it nonetheless. The fact that the vegetables have their own flavor definitely brings this meal out as something worth eating.

The only shortfall is exactly where you’d expect in a meal counting calories, it probably won’t fill you up. Still, the Smart Made by Smart One uses good ingredients, it tastes good, and it’s probably good for your in some understanding of the concept of healthy. It definitely will stave off starvation, and I’m pretty sure the test results will lean toward that being a good thing.

Verdict: 4.5/5 – Better ingredients, tasty corn starch product.