Dear McDonald’s,
I am writing to you today not just as your former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, but as a former customer of your fine establishment, even if I don’t fall into your main demographic of the pass out drunk and heavy smokers who have ruined their sense of taste. In light of a recent visit to your restaurant, and the consumption of your “Angus Beef CBO,” sandwich, I have advised our great President Nixon to label McDonald’s an enemy of state and collaborator with the Soviet Union, attempting to secretly poison your customers on behalf of communism.
Please find enclosed our declaration of war, as well as two coupons to T.G.I Fridays. May God have mercy on your souls.
Your Secretary of State,
Henry Kissinger
The great fast food war is fought like any other nuclear war: With no winners, many casualties, and a whole lot of stained clothing. In the end, when the survivors from both sides see the destruction that they have caused, the countries that lay waste, defunct governments and millions without food or water, they will realize that they always were on the same side. Fighting for the same cause, under separate names and through different deities, but with the same goal: Really crappy food served by High School students on drugs.
Allegedly the Angus beef CBO contains the exact same ingredients as the Crispy Chicken sandwich I just reviewed a few days ago. So why the sauce from the chicken sandwich tasted like concentrated heaven, while this tastes like barbecue sauce mixed with mayonnaise is beyond me. As soon as you opened the box, the smell grabs you by the throat and just about knocks you unconscious. Again I have no explanation why, but the smell from the sauce is like someone left their garbage can out in the sun to dry, let a skunk play around in it until it died, and then barbecued the lot. The kind of hickory smoked scent one might get by barbecuing road kill that was hit by a leaking sewage truck.
It tastes just as it smells. Like most of what McDonald’s serves, I find myself once again thankful that meals come with fries and a drink. A little root beer to cleanse my pallet before I drink a bottle of drain cleaner to clean the pipes. I tried to find a different way to describe the taste than I did the scent, and it just fits too well to pass up: mayonnaise and barbecue sauce on road kill that some meth head trucker decided to also sprinkle caramelized onions on. I don’t know what caramelizing process McDonald’s uses on its onions, but judging by the taste, texture, and color, I assume it translates to soaking in dirty dish water and then frying the onions in said dish water. The onions were soggy, had a very pungent taste to them, and for all I know may very well have been expired.
And to top off why this sandwich is worthy of war crime charges against McDonald’s, they didn’t even put bacon on the burger. I could have gone back to complain, but then I figured with how the rest of the burger tasted, the bacon was likely absent out of its own embarrassment, rather than employee mistake.
The important lesson here is that there is indeed a McDonald’s in my area that treats its food with the love it deserves, and the location I went to to purchase this burger was clearly not it. I usually give praise to the McDonald’s by Walden Galleria, and my mistake was not getting my food from there this time around. Instead I chose the location in Hamburg Village, where I’m constantly reminded by the employees that they hate their jobs, and where the employees are constantly reminded by me that the beeping coming from the machine means the fries are done cooking, it is not in fact a fryer monster that will steal their soul if they pay it any attention.
If you’re going to get the CBO, go for the crispy chicken. It’s just safer.
The Shameless Consumer 