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Burger King
Various Locations
burgerking.com
Rating: 82 BARFS
Before I start this off, I want to say that I am not reviewing Burger King's burgers or fries. I'm not going to try to write a comparative essay on BK vs. McDonald's or Wendy's or Cow Crusher's, 'cause I know better than to get trapped in that crossfire. Also, it's pretty clear that Roy Rogers is the best.
What I'm focusing on here is Burger King's attempt to reel in classy consumers with its new menu of healthy options. I tried one of these, the Smoky BBQ Fire-Grilled Chicken Baguette, on Friday.
First of all, what a catchy name. That's 10 times easier to say than Whopper. So thanks for saving my breath, Burger King. I think twelve syllables beats two on any day of the week. Idiots.
Next of all, I want to briefly describe the circumstances leading to my consumption of the Smoky BBQ Fire-Grilled Chicken Baguette. Chris, Geoff and I were driving to Ithaca. We started driving at 2:30. I hadn't eaten since 10. It was 4:30 when we were finally able to stop. I was ravenous, but I didn't feel like eating something too greasy, fearing that a burger and fries would play bumper cars in my empty stomach. So I decided to go "healthy." Idiot.
Look at this picture. It doesn't even look good. Why did I eat this? It's not like my interest was piqued by the four separate chicken units resting on the bread, each streaked with thick Sharpie lines. Also, peppers are vegetables, and I seriously should have reconsidered the idea of eating any vegetables at a fast-food restaurant. Lettuce, tomatoes and onions are one thing. Peppers? That's a leap. A leap that only the stupidest frog should make. I'm talking about a frog so stupid that it has nothing to live for.
Sorry, I got sidetracked. This negative review is not about frog sandwiches; it's about horrible chicken sandwiches. So, the one thing that I believed this sandwich had going for it was size. I was starving, and that picture made the S.B.B.Q.F-G.C.B. look really large. Look at that: four white chicken units. That must mean that the baguette is huge! Especially since every piece of meat has one or two "grill" marks on it. I could reasonably assume that each chicken chunk was like 2 or 3 inches long, at least. The grill lines have to be pretty far apart, because those separations are what make a grill different from a skillet, right? So I was pretty well justified in thinking that I would, at the very least, be filled up.
Whoops! I forgot those pictures are huge horrible fakes. When we all sat down with our food, I looked around the tray for my sandwich, initially skipping over a small clump of aluminum foil that I assumed contained a little garlic breadstick for someone's side salad (probably Geoff's considering that he physically can't make himself stop eating salad). After failing to find a 15-inch baguette anywhere on my tray, I returned to the foil clump and unwrapped it. There lay my 5-inch hunk of uncooked non-French bread, filled with a few pieces of shredded bird and a mess of peppers that would have tasted better spoiled. Chris, Geoff and I all recoiled in terror. And then I ate it.
Idiot.
I was so hungry that I couldn't wait long enough to get back on line and order something else. So I forced that nastywich down my throat, trying to focus on Chris's sourdough bacon cheeseburger the whole time. Funny, that didn't work. My food was so horrible, it would have sickened that sweaty guy who asks to finish your Lemon Surprise during the in-flight meal. After it was all over, I tried to close my eyes really tight and make myself die. That didn't work either.
Turns out the sandwich wasn't even healthy. After being thoroughly grossed out and undernourished by that nightmarewich, I had to go and order regular Burger King food just to wash the taste out. So the health benefits of the twelve-syllable taste-a-thon proved insufficient.
Alright, I can't even tolerate thinking about that sandwich anymore. Just please do one thing for me, readers: march right into Burger King and never ever EVER order their healthy chicken sandwiches. Stick to the easy-to-say, easy-to-eat standards (which Hardee's can beat with both hands tied behind its back).
- Jeff Solomon
