Papa’s Basement 12-12-11-It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday
Enjoy another solo episode, where I cover such varied topics as saying goodbye to a really fun job, my take on the Tim Tebow phenomenon, why Lindsay Lohan’s breasts in […]
The Christmas season has been kind to those of us who like our food fast and greasy. McDonald’s alone has given us the Daily Double, the delightful (if derivative) Chicken McBites and the diabetes-tastic Holiday Pie. Every other chain is getting into the spirit with a seasonal milkshake offering at the very least. If the news stopped right there, I would be content as both a man and a glutton. But lo, unto us this Christmas, a burger was born, wrapped in wax paper, lying in a cardboard box. That burger is Wendy’s new The W. Here is my take on it.
As always, I like to begin my fast food reviews by telling everyone where I come from on the subject: Namely, that I love fast food. And I hate myself for that fact, but it’s quick, it’s cheap and its astronomical sugar content spikes my barely-existent dopamine levels enough for me to stop hating myself for being a fast-food-addicted slob. Quite a vicious circle, ain’t it?
I say all of that so you are aware that my reviews don’t come from a lofty perch of salad-munching condescension. You know that guy who gets his order and pulls into the first available parking lot space to tuck in because making the five minute drive home with a bag full of food is laughably inconceivable to him? Hi.
(Oh, and for the purposes of my writing, “fast food” means a drive-thru is present. Five Guys might as well be Ruth’s Chris.)
So, with all the caveats and foreplay out of the way, what did I think of Wendy’s The W? In a word, amazing. Take all the superlatives I heaped upon McDonald’s Daily Double in last week’s review and then factor in that Wendy’s doesn’t serve meat out of Demoltion Man. The two beef patties and their cheesy crowns are more than adequate, and the veggies on top of them are fresh and piled high enough to contribute much to the burger’s flavor. Where The W truly shines, however, is its butter toasted bun and a secret sauce that tastes like Thousand Island dressing somehow made fattier. If Wendy’s bottled the stuff and sold it as an edible sexual lubricant, I’m sure these two would clear the shelves.
I award The W three-and-a-half out of four clogged arteries. The burger is $2.99-a dollar more than the Daily Double-but I won’t allow my black belt in cheapness to turn me off to what is clearly a superior product. I’ve consumed one of these beasts a day for half a week now and have no plans of slowing down. Until I pull a Mama Cass in the parking lot, which, given the fat content of that secret sauce, should happen by Friday.
In memory of that blessed, big woman. I first heard this song as I pulled into the parking lot of an STD clinic. Even though I’d just stuck it raw into a real sewer pipe, this song convinced me that my death-defying dick would test negative. Sure enough, it did, and now I’ve shared one of the more embarrassing chapters of my life as a throwaway comment that 99% of you won’t even read. Score.
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