Burger King's Disappointing Halloween Whopper

This is what we could have had...

Earlier this year, bits of the internet where I hang around were going crazy over a black burger (complete with black cheese) that Burger King was selling in Japan. The "going crazy" part was how people were clamoring for BK to bring that burger over here, because why whould Japan have all the fun, dammit?

Well, in "celebration" of Halloween, Burger King did bring a bastardized version of the black burger home to the US. If they had just given us a Whopper and a cheeseburger with black buns and black cheese and left it at that, everything probably would have been fine. But no, BK did a half-assed job with this and trust me, it's more trick than treat.

...but no. We get this.

Even considering the usual vast difference between what you see in a promotional photo and what you get when you peel back the wrapper, you can see the huge difference between the original black burger and the Halloween Whopper. Flat-black bun dotted with standard-colored sesame seeds. Regular yellow cheese. And A1 Sauce, which might not be so bad if they weren't so heavy-handed with it (I'll get to that in a minute.)

This is, to be quite frank, nothing more than a standard Whopper with a colored bun and some A1 sauce. And those two features - upon which the King could have built a great specialty burger - are the sandwich's failure points.

Let's start with the bun. All the advertising BK has done touts this special black bun "infused with A1 Sauce flavor." Dammit, Burger King, you should have stuck with the Japanese squid ink coloring and left it at that. But no - you needed infused flavor. Well, thanks a lot for giving us bread that tastes like a fainter version of Beggin' Strips dog treats. Yeah. Play-Doh and smoke, exactly what I want to wrap a Whopper in.

And what is it with Burger King and A1 Sauce, anyway? They "infuse" the bun with it, and then the kitchen crew adds more when they put the burger together. And when I say "more" - holy shit, it's a good thing that the Halloween Whopper is not going to break any sales records because if it did there would be a nationwide shortage of A1 Sauce since they must use half a bottle's worth on every burger.

This is why we can't have nice things.

This is far and away the sloppiest Whopper I have ever tried to eat. There is just so damned much A1 on it that when I unwrapped it, the outside of the sandwich was coated with overflowing sauce. Even after I cut it in half for easier handling, sauce just poured out of it constantly. Pick it up, it drools A1. Take a bite, more A1 squirts out the opposite side. Put it down, A1 slowly oozes like some High-Fructose Corn Syrup lava from between every layer. I felt like I should have been wearing a Tyvek hazmat suit to keep all the spatter off me.

Hey, that must be why it's a Halloween Whopper! It bleeds like an extra in a slasher film!

Thanks to all that cheap slather, there isn't much else you can actually taste in a halloween Whopper except for the sauce. That's either good or bad, I guess, depending upon your feelings about A1.

My personal recommendation is that you skip this slop and satisfy your Burger King craving with a regular Whopper. Or, if you simply must experience the black bun, ask for them to hold the A1.

(I've read that the coloring agents BK used in the American version of the black bun partially survive the trip through the human intestinal tract and will turn your turds green. I hope this is true. It will be this sandwich's only redeeming feature.)

REVIEW: McDonald's New CBO (Cheddar Bacon Onion) Sandwiches

A strange thing happened over the weekend: Maryanne and I were out wandering in the car at lunchtime, and found ourselves looking for a quick bite to eat at the very moment that a McDonald's appeared on the road ahead.

Now, you guys all know how much I like McDonald's breakfast and bakery offerings. But you also know I am somewhat less-than-enthusiastic about their burgers. Maryanne kind of half-heartedly said, "There's a McDonald's up on the right," and I think I really surprised her when I replied, "Cool. Let's try out the new CBOs they introduced last week."

We got two sandwiches - one made with crispy chicken, and the other made on an Angus Third Pounder - and cut them in half so we could each try both sandwiches, and added a large fries to share and large coffees.

Out of the two sandwiches, the Crispy Chicken CBO was hands-down our favorite. The cheese and bacon were worthy complements to the chicken patty, and the caramelized onion brought a welcome touch of sweetness to counterbalance the salty bacon (and salty chicken coating.) It reminded us (favorably) of KFC's Double Down, but on a roll.

The Angus Third Pounder CBO was somewhat less successful. For one thing, the patty is far too dry. And because bacon-cheeseburgers have become a fairly standard offering for many a fast-food chain, finding one at McDonald's just isn't that special, even if there is caramelized onions sprinkled atop the patty. (C'mon, there's already an Angus Bacon & Cheese burger on the menu which is almost identical to the CBO.) And though the beef version of the CBO is larger than the chicken, we found it less satisfying because of its ordinariness. When we were done eating, both of wished we'd ordered our own Crispy Chicken CBOs and left the beef ones behind.

A couple of other notes about the ingredients:

• McDonald's bacon is decent - better than the bacon served on sandwiches at most other chains (I'm lookin' at you, Wendy) but it would be even better if they used thick-sliced bacon instead of standard. 
• I can't figure out what is so special about their "white cheddar" cheese since it tastes exactly like the orange cheddar that McDonald's uses on every other burger. 
• The so-called "creamy mustard sauce" is so bland that it might as well be generic Ranch Dressing straight from a supermarket bottle.

My recommendation: Check out the Crispy Chicken CBO (or the Grilled Chicken CBO, for a slightly different take on it) and forget the Angus variety.

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Dale Earnhardt Jr Vending Machine Sandwiches

So, having neglected to bring lunch to work last week, I was forced to venture out to the lunchroom and survey the offerings in the vending machine. I found a few cans of Chef Boy R Dee (seriously) and some Kellogg's cereal cups, and multiple instances of microwaveable sandwiches bearing the "Dale Jr." trademark so familiar to NASCAR fans.

You just know that with Dale Jr.'s name and likeness on the wrapper, millions of them are going to sell regardless of the quality. And, to tell the truth, they didn't look all that appetizing sitting in the dark little pockets of the machine.  Some testing and reviewing was obviously in order here.

There were three varieties of DaleChow available for purchase, so I bought one of each and resigned myself to vending machine food for the next few days.

I found all of the sandwiches I bought to at least meet minimum standards of flavor and edibility. To be honest, I didn't have very high expectations for any of the three, so it was easy for them not to disappoint. I was, however, surprised that they actually tasted fairly decent considering what they were. 

We'll start with the appropriately-named "Double-Dog Dare," twin hot dogs in buns, topped with chili and mustard.

Chili dogs are one of my favorite lunches when they are made with high-quality natural casing franks and slow-cooked beef chili sauce. But vending machine food is more about maximizing profits than providing an optimal dining experience.

The hot dogs are really low-grade skinless franks mostly made of mechanically-separated chicken with some beef, and they taste like the cheapest generic bologna - even Vienna sausages have a better taste profile. The dogs are dressed with a line of standard yellow mustard and then covered with a thick layer of chili sauce made from spiced beef and TVP.

They actually look better in the package (above) than they do after heating (right.) The buns get really soft and squishy after they're heated, and unfortunately the hot dogs don't heat up quite enough by the time the buns are almost mushy.

Surprisingly enough, though, the chili sauce has a fairly decent flavor. While spicy, it isn't too hot and on it's own (or on a better quality hot do) it wouldn't be too bad. Luckily, this halfway decent chili sauce masks the nasty bologna flavor of the hot dogs. The mustard is hardly noticeable, although I guess it's applied unevenly, because every now and then a bit of a hot dog provides a blast of mustard flavor, which isn't really compatible with the chili.

I just can't resist showing you this cross-section. That mustard really looks sick, but the part that really concerned me was the hot dog. I never did figure out what all those little white bits were.

Overall, I give the Double-Dog Dare a grade of 5 on a 1-to-10 scale: Not entirely horrible, but not my first choice for lunch.

Next up is the Dale Jr. Cheeseburger.

This is a big and substantial lunch, weighing in at over nine ounces (which is big for a vending machine sandwich.)  It seems to be pretty standard - sesame seed bun, a patty which is advertised to be "made with 100% BEEF," cheese, ketchup, mustard, and pickles.  The ingredient panel, though, reveals that the 100% beef is "seasoned" with hydrolyzed soy protein - a source of filler as well as MSG - and is flavored with beef broth.

Freshly out of the microwave, lifting the lid on the burger reveals just what kind of lunchtime nightmare it really is. The processed cheese turns into a viscous pool which collects in the artificial "grill lines" which have been etched into the surface of the pale grey burger. What I didn't show was that the bottom surface of the sandwich was coated in a thin, sticky film of ketchup and mustard; it must have spilled or been misapplied during manfacture, and it resulted in a messy, hard-to-hold product.  It was icky enough that I decided to cut the burger in half to make it easier to hold and eat.

That proved to be very entertaining. The pickles, which were hidden under the patty between the burger and the bun, were highly resistant to cutting. As I sliced through the sandwich, the blade (which was gliding effortlessly through the meat and bread) "caught" on the pickles and dragged them out against the blade. I popped one into my mouth and found that it seemed to be made of pale green plastic with a tougher, thicker green plastic rim. I could barely chew it

As you might imagine, this sandwich, like the hot dogs, was less than ideal. The cheese was lowest-common-denominator cheap American, and the burger tasted more like salt and cheap beef bouillon than it did like real beef. The complete flavor profile was something like what a food additive corporation would come up with if asked to make "cheeseburger flavor" for addition to other things. This product gets a 4 on a 1-to-ten scale. Edible, but it will never be a first choice.

Since I seem to be arranging these things in decending order of goodness, I suppose it's fitting that I finish off by describing the Dale Jr. BBQ Pork Sandwich.

It's basically a NASCAR-themed version of McDonald's McRib sandwich: a pork patty formed into a crude representation of a tiny rack of spare ribs, dressed with BBQ sauce and served on a club roll.

The sauce is thick and sweet and wet and makes the sandwich a little harder to handle than it might be, but it had a fairly good flavor which is similar to many inexpensive bottled barbecue sauces.

The patty is very mild with any pork flavor very efficiently subsumed by the sauce. I could handle that. It was harder to handle the texture - chewy, gristly, kind of lumpy, with a lot of what I earnestly hoped was cartilage. This pork patty was so inferior to anything I'd ever had under any other brand that I was surprised that any actual person would put their real name on the packaging. Dale, dude, talk to these guys. That's your [highly stylized and probably trademarked] signature on the cellophane - have you no pride?

If you're hungry - really hungry - the BBQ Pork Sandwich will probably score a 4 on a 1-to10 scale. But since I have some standards (and a stash of Cup-A-Soup in my desk drawer for emergency lunchtime hunger) I can't give it more than a 3.

Burger King Minis

Hey, look! Burger King has little tiny burgers again! These are, essentially, the very same small pull-apart burgers that the chain has been selling on and off since the mid-1980's when they were called "Burger Bundles" and sold in sets of two for 89 cents.  They've also been sold as "Burger Buddies" in the early 1990's, and most recently as "Burger Shots" in the late aughts.

Back when I reviewed "Burger Shots" three years ago, I said I couldn't understand why BK can't seem to make a success of them. They're just miniature versions of their standard flame-broiled cheeseburger. Everything I said about them then is still true today - delicious, would be great for a few kids to share a box, and a pile of them at a party would be pretty cool. I think the biggest problem Burger King has with them is people incessantly compare them to White Castle sliders.  Minis are not sliders. They don't pretend to be. They don't taste anything like sliders; they taste like what they are: little replicas of Burger King cheeseburgers.

New to the lineup this time we find Chicken Minis, small breaded white-meat chicken patties dropped on the buns with mayo and pickles.  I'm not sure I like these as well as the burgers. The breading outweighs the chicken, for one thing, and even though the seasoning is decent, plopping a big-ass slice of pickle on top just overpowers it. The taste isn't bad once the pickle is gone, but they're just too bready for me.

Are Minis going to be around for awhile? Who knows - given BK's track record with miniaturization, I wouldn't bet on a longer run than about six months or so. If I were the Burger King's Prime Minister or Grand Vizier or BFF or whatever, I would tell him to just ditch the little bastards once and for all. They've never been successful enough to earn a place on the permanent menu, and eventually the marketing department is going to run out of descriptive names for small sandwiches containing 1-ounce meat patties.

Or maybe not.

Mooyah Burgers And Fries

Mooyah Burgers and Fries, a relatively new burger franchise that is kind of a weak imitation of Five Guys, just opened in Hartford, in the Food Court at State House Square.  Lynnafred and I checked them out for lunch today.  

We got there a little after noon and the line was about 25 people deep.  It took us about half an hour to move through the line. This was not the fault of the people taking orders - Mooyah had two registers going and the friendly folks ringing up orders were moving customers through as quickly as they could.

If you've ever been to Five Guys, you'll find Mooyah quite familiar.  Mooyah isn't even subtle about aping practically everything about that other red-shirted hamburger joint, so for me to point out every little detail would get tiresome.  Let's skip right to the food.

Left to right: Mooyah Burger, regular fries, "shake", another Mooyah Burger in front of a large Coke Zero.

The first thing Lynnafred and I noticed was that the burgers are actually smaller than other "premium" fast food burgers.  They look huge - like Five Guys or Red Robin huge - but they're not.  Mooyah uses smaller buns than the other guys, so their generously-sized burgers look more massive than they really are.  Clever, eh?  Until you go to pick up that sloppy-ass pile of grease and melted cheese and the whole thing slides around inside the bun as you try to grip and bite it,  and it plops into your lap.

Mooyah's fries are completely unremarkable.  Have you had  unpeeled potatoes cut into strips and fried before? Yeah me too. Most of the time they haven't been as soggy at the ones at Mooyah, though. And even Wendy's has mostly long, intact fries dusted with sea salt.  We got a cup of little fragments that were seasoned with disappointment and broken dreams.

Lynnafred liked her Oreo shake, though it was in fact soft-serve ice cream over a mound of crushed cookies and hit with the stick blender until still not soft enough to drink. She ended up eating it with a spoon since the straws provided were so small in diameter that they proved impossible to use.

If I were a "ratings" kinda guy, I'd give Mooyah about a five out of ten.  But I'm not, so I'll just say that I might eat there again if I got a flat tire right in front of them, at lunch time, and had to wait an hour for the tow truck, and Burger King were more than a fifteen minute walk away.

Burger King's New BK Stuffed Steakhouse

Burger King has a spicy new sandwich on the menu:  The BK Stuffed Steakhouse.  It's a large patty "stuffed" with chunks of jalapeno pepper and orange American cheese, topped with lettuce and tomato, and finished off with a creamy poblano chile sauce on a "corn dusted" bun.  We stopped at the local BK yesterday to give them a try.

When I stepped up to the counter and placed my order, the young man behind the counter looked down and sighed deeply, "The Stuffed Steakhouse."

"Please don't tell me you're out of them," I said.  "I've been looking forward to trying one since I first heard about them."

"No, we're not out of them.  I had one for lunch today and..." his voice dropped to almost a whisper, "they're so awesome."

Wow.  Seriously, how many times do you find that level of enthusiasm in a kid who has to stand behind a counter all day selling burgers and fries?  (Actually, I run into it pretty often at this particular Burger King, because the kids working there are always pretty fast and efficient while still managing to be friendly and kind of goofily cheerful on the job.  It's one of the reasons I really like going to my local Burger King.  But I digress.)

The strangest part of this sandwich is definitely the patty.  It's not so much "stuffed" with cheese and jalapeno bits as it is "studded" - the meat has been formed with the pepper and cheese tumbled in.  Even with the additions, though, the burger retains it's typical BK flavor profile.  And incorporating the peppers and the cheese into the meat hasn't hurt the burger's texture, either - it doesn't crumble or fall apart, and it isn't tough or overworked either, the way ground beef can be when it's been handled too much.  And I have to take a minute to mention the creamy poblano sauce.  That shit's amazing.  Really.  If Burger King were to put it in a bottle and sell it over the counter, they would have a huge hit.  It would be awesome for so many other dishes, you can hardly imagine - Lynnafred, for example, mentioned that it would be a perfect replacement for the sour cream that Taco Bell puts on stuff like the Crunchwrap Supreme, or on nachos, or on just about anything else.

So, you ask, what is the actual sandwich experience like?  In a word: bitchin'.  The heat level is just right for a non-burn-your-ass-off lunch.  I thought it was comfortably spicy with a good kick.  Lynnafred, whose heat tolerance has been steadily building over the past couple of years, thought it was even a bit on the mild side.  We all really liked the burger and would absolutely get it again.

Cross-section of the stuffed burger, enlarged to
show the texture in disturbing detail.

There were a couple of things less than optimal about the BK Stuffed Steakhouse, though.  Our January-purchased burgers suffered because of the crappy winter tomatoes that were sliced onto the top of the burger.  It would be so much better in the late summer, when delicious red ripe tomatoes are available.  And I wish that the jalapeno distribution was a little more even within the patty.  The random distribution of the peppers and cheese through the meat led to bites with no jalapenoey goodness within (though I freely admit that they were much more even than trusting the BurgerLord behind the counter with sprinkling on jalapeno slices by hand.)

Other than those little nitpicks, I'd say The King has a winner here.  I hope this sandwich finds a permanent place on the menu.

Five Guys Burgers and Fries Opens In Enfield!

For months, I've been passing by the construction site on my way to work, looking forward to the day the new Five Guys Burgers and Fries would be opening their doors for business.  Their reputation as a no-frills burger joint offering a good, solid burger at a fair price is firmly established, and they have a good location in town:  On a main road (CT 220) yet not shoulder-to-shoulder with the other fast food places in town (Wendy's, McDonald's, Burger King, and Arby's are all crowded together at the foot of Exit 48 off Interstate 91.)  Is there room in town for yet another fast food place?  If there isn't, it will probably be the perpetually-empty Arby's that bites the dust.

We visited Five Guys on opening day at about 5:00 pm, which is usually the front end for the supper rush at fast food places in town.  The parking lot was pretty full and the line inside was long, but seemed to be moving pretty quickly.

I'm new to Five Guys, so it surprised me to see eight hundred pounds of potatoes stacked up across from the registers.  In Five-Guys specific packaging, no less.  A chalkboard near the register lets you know from which town in Idaho your fries are from.

Ordering is quick an easy.  A standard burger at Five Guys has two hand-formed patties, so if you have a smaller appetite, remember to order the "little" burger.   After specifying what kind of burger you want (hamburger, cheeseburger, bacon burger, or bacon burger with cheese) you order your choice of toppings at no extra charge.  Toppings include lettuce, tomatoes, onions, ketchup, mayo, mustard, relish, sliced jalapenos, grilled onions, grilled mushrooms, and green peppers.  We each ordered bacon cheeseburgers with various toppings, and some standard fries and Cajun fries, to go, and stepped aside to watch the amazing assembly line-style grill area where the burgers are prepared.

The crew works quickly and efficiently.  One group tends the griddle, where the grilled toppings are cooked and the burgers fried.  All of the burgers at Five Guys are hand-formed from fresh ground beef (never frozen) and are cooked medium-well yet juicy. (I'll talk more about this a little later.)  As the burgers are taken off the griddle, they are handed forward to the assemblers, who put the burgers together to order, working in rows with each burger on a little square of aluminum foil:  buns, meat, add-ons and topping, wrap it up, bag it, and off it goes.  Even with the huge line for service, we were in and out within ten minutes; the service was that quick.

I'm really glad we ordered our meals to go.  There are a lot of hard surfaces in Five Guys (tile, glass, stainless steel, etc.) and nothing to absorb the noise from either the crowds of diners or the hectic-yet-organized kitchen, where every one of the crew calls out orders, instructions, and progress to their fellow workers.  To customers, this may seem bafflingly confusing, but if you've ever worked in a kitchen spend a few minutes listening to the seemingly-chaotic exchanges - you'll be able to follow any given service from the cash register to handing off the bag to the customer.  It's a great system and it works.well.

The fries are excellent, large diner-style fries cooked in peanut oil.  Standard fries are delicious, but the Cajun fries are outstanding with a nice medium-hot fire dusted onto them.

Now how about those burgers?

Awesome.  Being somewhat of a burger minimalist, I stuck with my basic favorite, a bacon cheeseburger with ketchup and mustard.  The burgers are put together on oversized sesame-seed buns to give plenty of room for the patties.  Notice that the burger appears to be a single massive burger, but in fact it's two patties cemented together by a layer of cheese.  The burgers are juicy and delicious and just slightly pink (medium well.).

I love red, bloody hamburgers cooked rare, and that's the way I make them for myself when I'm cooking with the ground beef that I buy from Caronna's, my local neighborhood market where they still grind their own.  Unfortunately there are virtually no restaurant or commercial dining establishements which I can truly trust to deliver safe and wholesome ground beef to the table, regardless of their good intentions.  I'm not placing any faith at all in industrially-processed mass chubs of ground beef from some anonymous slaughter mill in the midwest.  So I'm content to have the barely-pink, yet still juicy and wonderful burgers at Five Guys.

Are there other, perhaps better, burger places out there?  Of course:  David's Place on CT 85 in Montville, Connecticut not only serves awesome burgers but you can get some amazing whole-bellied fried clams there too.  And let us not forget Harry's Place in Colchester, CT. But for fast food burgers, Five Guys has replaced Burger King as my favorite.

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Flatburgers

There is nothing like a big, juicy burger. I never buy pre-made ground beef patties; I always get freshly-made burger from Caronna's Market (my local butcher shop) which is ground right there in the store - often while I wait. A big hand-formed patty of that beef, grilled under a broiler or, better yet, over hot coals, is truly awesome.

But sometimes, I don't want a big juicy burger. I want a thinner, 1930's-style fried patty. I call 'em flatburgers.

 I start out by using a cheap teflon-coated egg ring as a burger form.  It's completely useless as an egg ring because it's been made with a deep seam where the egg sticks.  But it makes a nearly perfect 1/3-pound ground beef patty just the right size to fit on a standard hamburger bun.  I press the meat into the ring on a disposable foam plate and carefully remove the ring.

To make this patty into a flatburger, I press the patty gently with my fingertips, forming it into a thinner quarter-inch-thick patty with a wider diameter.  Then I fry it under a cast-iron bacon press to keep it from shrinking as it cooks, and serve it up with ketchup and mustard and a slice of cheese on an oversized sesame-seed sandwich bun. Voilà!  A flatburger - remarkably similar to the burgers my great-grandfather used to get at small diners in the late 30s. Despite the thinness of the patty, it's still a 1/3-pound burger, so it's  remarkably satisfying

Flatburger or no, it can still be decked out with all the trimmings you desire.  Add cheese, onions, lettuce, tomatoes, and bacon - especially bacon - and the Flatburger suddenly doesn't seem so flat.

Take a trip back in time and try a flatburger sometime.

Wendy's New Bacon Deluxe

Wendy's has been heavily advertising their new "Bacon Deluxe" burgers - basically a standard bacon cheeseburger with lettuce, tomato, and onion added - touting the presence of "thick-sliced applewood smoked bacon." Lynnafred and I gave 'em a shot. The publicity photo (left) looked tempting enough, in that carefully-posed-fake-food-designed-to-look-awesome way, and the ad copy seemed fairly straightforward:

"Forget every bacon cheeseburger you've tried before. Our New Bacon Deluxe is fresh, never frozen. North American beef, melted American cheese, hand-leafed lettuce, and sliced beefsteak tomato topped with four seriously thick, crispy strips of Applewood smoked bacon on a Kaiser bun. real is irresistable."

As much as I love the ridiculousness of "hand-leafed lettuce," I have to admit it was the "Applewood smoked bacon" part that sucked us in, even though we should have known better.

When it comes right down to it, there is nothing about a standard Wendy's burger that distinguishes it from the same type of sandwich at McDonald's. The meat patties are thin, bland, and 100% beef; the orange cheese tastes the same; the buns are squishy whitebread pillows. "Four seriously thick, crispy strips of Applewood smoked bacon" is the selling point of this burger, and it's on this very point that the Bacon Deluxe fails:

• We didn't get four slices of bacon, we got three: a 25% bacon shortfall.
  
  
• In Wendyspeak, "seriously" must mean "not really." As in "seriously thick, crispy strips" meaning "not really thick, crispy strips." The bacon was sliced no thicker than any standard bacon available at the grocery store. And the shoto shows how flaccid it was, draped over the burger. It wasn't even browned.
  
  
• I'm not really sure what's up with that texture embossed into the fatty part of the bacon. It looks like they ran it between two gears or something. I think they did it because advertising photos of cooked bacon show it so perfectly, evenly, and impossibly wavy, so they mill the bacon strips as a cheapass shortcut instead of just properly cooking it.
  
  
• There's no appreciable flavor difference between the "applewood" smoked bacon Wendy uses and any run-of-the-mill supermarket bacon. The mediocrity of most "applewood-smoked" restaurant menu items leads me to suspect that as little as 1 part apple to 100 parts other hardwood qualifies the smoke as "applewood."

At almost five bucks and up for a Bacon Deluxe, there are no bargains here. Burger King's bacon cheeseburgers are not only a better deal, but better tasting because at least they flame-broil their burgers. And if lettuce and tomato are that important to you, Burger King will add them on request.
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Tasting The Famous Canned Cheeseburger

I first read about the Trek'n Eat Cheeseburger in a Can in 2004, and was instantly fascinated. Unfortunately, it's not sold in the United States, and the German company that produces them does not ship outside Europe.

Recently, however, my sister-in-law visited friends in Switzerland and came home with a special treat for me: a canned cheeseburger!!

Americans love their cheeseburgers. It is no wonder that this canned version - impossible for the ordinary burger aficionado to obtain - has achieved some sort of mythic status among American bloggers. Besides, if it were possible to equip your Zombie Apocalypse Shelter with non-perishable burgers, wouldn't you prefer them to MREs, sardines, and powdered milk? You bet you would. Let me tell you, though: the fact that Trek'n Eat doesn't distribute these things in the US is a gift to America. Canned cheeseburgers are foul. Think of the worst "convenience meal" you've ever had - even the Banquet Cheesy Smothered Meat Patty Meal - and the canned cheeseburger completely surpasses it for nastiness.

Opening the can revealed that the top bun, studded with sesame seeds, completely filled the diameter of the can. We gave it a sniff, but there wan't much aroma. Lynnafred poked at the bun a bit and found it to be surprisingly fresh and rather spongy, and not kind of dried and "day-oldish" as we thought it might have been.

Once out of the can, though, the burger was much more like you would have expected a canned cheeseburger to be: small, kind of flat, almost sullen-looking (if a burger could be said to look sullen.) The meat and cheese and whatever else might have been between the buns were invisible, because the bun was large enough to have encased the entire structure all around. We found that intriguing, and I tried to peel back the buns to reveal some of the burgery secrets that might have been contained within. Alas, the bread and cheese had more or less fused together during processing and it was difficult to lift the top bun without having it delaminate into crumbs. I settled for cross-sectioning it with a kitchen knife instead.

I cut the burger first in half to examine the components, then into smaller wedges so that my wife Maryanne, daughtger Lynnafred, and friend Michael could all have a piece. I could not have had a less appetizing-looking item in my hand if I were gripping a cat turd.

The meat patties - yes, there were two of them, stacked atop one another though sligltly offset - were greyish brown, coarse and gritty, with visible bits of...something...studded in there. The cheese had kind of seeped into the pores of the bun like a strange sort of dairy-based plastic sealant. I took a bite, and chewed...

...and spit it out. The meat was disgusting - it was like slices of horribly malseasoned, overcooked, adulterated sausage, at once pasty and grainy and rubbery. It tasted nothing like any type of beef (or even beef substitute) I'd ever had. It is beyond belief that whoever developed this horrid simulacrum of a burger has ever tasted a real cheeseburger. I can't imagine that they've even seen a real cheeseburger, though the possibility that they might have glimpsed a grainy, low-resolution thumbnail of one, from a distance, is plausible.

I took another bite, determined to get at least one taste down the ol' hatch. When all was said and done, the four of us had reluctantly managed to eat a little less than half of the cheeseburger between us. It must be said, though, that Zim thoroughly enjoyed the leftovers.

So. I have eaten a canned cheeseburger. An experience which no one will ever be able to take from me - as well as one I wish never to repeat again. I owe my sister-in-law bigtime favors for this one.

How about a closeup? I promise it was even worse in person.

Link:

Trek'n Eat Cheeseburger in a can website - The actual product website (English Language.) Be grateful there is no ordering link for the United States.

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One last pair of pictures:

On the left, the product depicted in Trek'n Eat's catalog photo. On the right, what the actual burger looked like when it came out of the can. Not even calling that a "serving suggestion" forgives that level of bullshit.

Cheeburger, Cheeburger, Egg Cream

In a market crowded with specialty burger restaurant chains, every place needs a gimmick. For Red Robin, it's "gourmet burgers" and "bottomless fries;" for Johnny Rockets it's a nostalgic, post-war-Norman-Rockwell-Americana theme. For Cheeburger Cheeburger it's a one-pound burger challenge, the ability to infinitely customize your own milkshake, and a really good egg cream despite being far away from New York City.

Friends and I recently visited the Cheeburger Cheeburger location in Columbia Maryland. Located in a shopping plaza storefront, the sign and facade are friendly and inviting, with large windows allowing passers-by a glimpse at the interior lit with old-fashioned "schoolhouse" style hanging lamps accented with warm red neon tubes.

Inside, the neon combines with glass block section dividers, chrome accents, and linoleum-topped tables to give a nostalgic faux-1950s feel to the restaurant. Lots of reproduction tin signs and other ephemera hang on the walls to enhance this atmosphere, and it has the desired effect: It's an absolutely modern restaurant with an obvious theme, but it still feels familiar and comfortable. Congratulations to Cheeburger Cheeburger's design team - they hit a bullseye.

Their menu is fairly extensive for a "burger joint," but our party concentrated on the burgers and traditional sides and the milkshakes. The burgers come in quite a range of sizes, from the 20-ounce-before-cooking "Famous Pounder" down to the 5.5-ounce-before-cooking "Classic." Finish a Famous Pounder, and the staff will take a snapshot of you in all your gluttonous glory to post on a bulletin board with other, uh, "winners" on a "Wall of Fame." Tempting as this chance at immortality seems, I opted to go with the more manageable yet still oversized 10-ounce-before-cooking "Serious" burger with cheddar cheese and bacon. It was delicious and juicy, topped generously with three thick-cut slices of bacon, and thoroughly enjoyable. I didn't bother with any ketchup or mustard (my usual burger condiments of choice) because I wanted to experience the full flavor of the beef, bacon, and cheese - all of which was excellent.

To compliment the burgers ordered round the table, we also got a "Best of Both" basket of fries and onion rings. The fries were fairly standard shoestring fries, cut with the skins on, and done quite nicely: crispy on the outside, soft on the inside. I wish I could say "creamy on the inside" but unfortunately Cheeburger Cheeburger seems to use mealy Russet potatoes for their fries and I prefer the waxier Eastern potatoes we grow here in New England and in the Canadian Maritimes. The onion rings, though, were outstanding. Big sweet onions, thinly sliced and batter-dipped, were light and delicious and not overly greasy. Best of all, it was obvious that the restaurant keeps it's frying oil fresh and cleam - there was not the slightest hint of "old oil" flavors in the basket. The fries were so good, in fact, that when the Best of Both basket was gone, we ordered a large side of just onion rings for our table of five - and that order disappeared just as quickly as the first.

As I mentioned in the beginning, one of the things that makes Cheeburger Cheeburger special is their "Invent Your Own" milkshakes. Their online menu lists 75 milkshake flavors (and there were others on the printed menu at the restaurant;) any of these can be combined in any way you like to produce a customized shake or malt. I can imagine some of the results coming out pretty heinous (Peanut Butter and Root Beer, anyone?) but the two ordered by my dining companions (Chocolate-Raspberry and Chocolate-Gingerbread-Cookie Dough) were decent and the portions generous enough that Cheeburger Cheeburger will cheerfully give you an extra glass for sharing.

For me, one of the best things about Cheeburger Cheeburger was their delicious egg cream. Made from milk, chocolate syrup, and seltzer (no eggs or cream!) good egg creams are hard to find outside of New York City. Cheeburger Cheeburger egg creams are mighty fine and quite authentic right down to the bit of chocolate that settles down at the bottom of the glass for a last-sip burst of flavor at the end (though I'm not sure they were using genuine Fox's U-Bet chocolate syrup in the drink.) The egg creams alone would bring me in to this place if there were one in my area.

As for the service: our waitress seemed a little inexperienced, but she was still friendly and helpful, and enthusiastic without crossing over into obnoxiousness. Overall, we had great food and a great time. I wouldn't mind a franchise opening close enough to home to enjoy them more frequently.

Links:

Cheeburger Cheeburger's website - Check out their menu, read company news, and more.

New York Egg Cream - History and Recipe - The definitive page about real egg creams.

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McDonald's Angus Third Pounder

After extensive test marketing in California and New York, McDonald's has introduced their Angus Third Pounder burgers to the rest of the Northeast. I tried one today: the Bacon and Cheese variety. Here's a screencap of the official McDonald's Serving Suggestion burger on their website:

And here's an actual photo of the burger. As usual, it's a little less glamorous than the illustration - but unlike so many other fast food burgers I've reviewed - the real life burger does come close to the ideal picture, for a change.

McDonald's starts with what they advertise as a 100% Angus beef burger with a pre-cooked weight of one-third pound. The bacon-and-cheese version gets topped with thick slices of bacon, a slice of cheese, a few rings of red onions, and a generous layer of crinkle-cut pickles.

I liked the thick-cut bacon. There was a generous amount of it, too, more than one usually finds on fast-food burgers, and the combined flavors of burgers and bacon is always a winner, especially when paired with McDonald's cheese (which is a special mild cheddar made under contract for McD by Kraft.) I'm certain that they're crinkle-cutting the pickles to emphasize the difference between them and their standard pickles. This crinkle-cut ones taste almost like deli half-sours. And the red onion slices, sharper and more flavorful than standard yellow onions, were a good choice as well. The beef seems to be a slightly coarser grind and has a heartier mouthfeel than the familiar Quarter Pounder. It's a pretty decent burger - not decent enough to make McDonald's my first choice for a fast-food burger, but certainly better than almost anything else on their post-breakfast menu.

Unfortunately, there's more to the Angus Third Pounder than meets the eye.

Every other McDonald's burger sandwich starts with the same ingredient, listed in the McDonalds ingredients list as a "100% Beef Patty." The ingredients for said beef patty are "100% pure USDA inspected beef; no fillers, no extenders. Prepared with grill seasoning (salt, black pepper)." Beef, salt, pepper, that's it. But the Angus Patty is very different:

"100% Angus beef. Prepared with Grill Seasoning (salt, black pepper) and Angus Burger Seasoning: Salt, sugar, dextrose, onion powder, maltodextrin, natural butter flavor (dairy source), autolyzed yeast extract, spices, garlic powder, vegetable protein (hydrolyzed corn, soy and wheat), natural (animal, plant and botanical source) and artificial flavors, dried beef broth, sunflower oil, caramel color, partially hydrogenated cottonseed and soybean oil, gum arabic, soy sauce solids (wheat, soybean, salt, maltodextrin, caramel color), palm oil, worcestershire sauce powder [distilled vinegar, molasses, corn syrup, salt, caramel color, garlic powder, sugar, spices, tamarind, natural flavor (fruit source)], beef fat, annatto and turmeric (color), calcium silicate and soybean oil (prevent caking)."

Wow. Damn. That's quite a shopping list. How come McDonald's has to put all that stuff into their Angus patties?

Well, part of the reason is because they're using the term "Angus Beef" to coattail on the well-known and very familiar Certified Angus Beef® advertising by the American Angus Association. "Angus" is not a cut of meat, it's a breed of cattle which can be raised by anyone interested in keeping a beefer. Only a small percentage of beef from Angus cattle is selected by the American Angus Association to carry the Certified Angus Beef® brand. The Association has been almost too successful in their advertising campaign - it seems to have raised consumer awareness of all beef from Angus cattle, whether or not that beef is the Certified brand. So McDonald's - and Burger King, and the rest - buy generic Angus-derived beef, make a big deal of labeling it as "100% pure Angus beef" and trust that most consumers aren't going to notice the difference in taste or wording. I suspect that the extra seasoning cocktail Mickey D's dumps into the mix is to create a flavor difference between the "Angus" and the standard patties, helping reinforce their "special" status in the minds of consumers.

McDonald's Links:

McDonald's Angus Third Pounder website.

McDonald's USA website.

McDonald's USA Ingredients Listing for Popular Menu Items. This is a PDF file, so you'll need the Adobe Acrobat Reader to check it out.

Learn About Certified Angus Beef®:

The Certified Angus Beef® website explains what makes the brand special.

The American Angus Association website. More technical and business-related, but loaded with great resources about Angus cattle and beef.

Wendy's Baconator

I was a big fan of Wendy's Spicy Baconator: pepper Jack cheese, chipotle sauce, pickled jalapeño slices - a nice hot kick, but not really a big burn unless you were a total pepper wuss. The standard Baconator - a double bacon cheeseburger with six strips of bacon - isn't even in the same league.

Unfortunately, the spicy version's been discontinued, which has led to some confusion among my friends who read my original blog entry about it. Some of them have gone to Wendy's, gotten the regular version, and then said to me, "What's with you and the Baconator? It's just a bacon cheeseburger."

This is what's with me and the Baconator: Nothing. I wrote about the Spicy Baconator, and the two are not the same. They're not even comparable. But in the interest of seeing just what the deal is with the Baconator, I stopped into the local Wendy's and got one. They sure look good in that picture there, don't they? (That picture is from a Wendy's press release.)

He's what I actually got. Yeah, I know it's an old joke about how fast food never looks as good as the picture on the menu, but still. This thing looks like it was put together by throwing the pieces across the room.

The burgers were fairly typical Wendy's square patties, done just on the pink side of medium well, with the standard fast-food orange cheese slices. There were six slices of bacon, but if I wanted to really nit-pick, the slices are half the size of the ones you fry at home, so you're not fooling anyone, Wendy.

I took the burger apart and re-stacked it to make it a little less disgusting to eat. It was amazingly average - nothing about the Baconator stands out as any better than any competing product. In fact, if it were a head-to-head against a sandwich like the Burger King bacon double cheeseburger, I'd go with the BK version. Yes, there's less bacon on it, but the patties are flame broiled, and that's worth many points over a griddle-fried burger any day of the week.

Burger King Burger Shots WITH BACON

I really like Burger King's Burger Shots. Flame-broiled beef patties, tasty orange cheese, just the right size to share - they're just made of win. When I first reviewed them back in June 2008, I said:

"The only thing that could make me happier with them would be if they were topped with BACON. You got that, Your Highness? Get some bacon on those Shots and you'll have an unstoppable juggernaut of flame-broiled goodness."

Last night, looking for a quick supper, I stopped at the local BK and decided to take a chance. I ordered a six-pack of Burger Shots and then asked the kid behind the counter how customizable those burgers were.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, I know I can get cheese on them. I was wondering if I could get bacon on them, too," I said.

"Um...I think so. I can check..."

"Can I get extra meat, too?" What the hell - might as well go for a six pack of Bacon Double Cheeseburger Shots, right?

"Woah. I have to ask my manager. Can you hang on a sec?"

"Sure."

He called over the manager and explained what I was asking for. The manager looked a little puzzled. She looked up at me and said, "You want extra meat?"

"Yeah. Wouldn't that be awesome? A sixpack of miniature Bacon Double Cheeseburgers."

"I, um, I'm sorry," she said, "But I don't have any way to ring that up. There's no key on my register for extra meat. I can give you bacon, and cheese, but I can't ring something up if there's no key for it." I looked down at the keypad registers that they use, and it was true: there was truly no provision for them to charge for extra meat.

I could have been one of those asshole customers that bitches and causes a scene until they get what they want, but I'm not like that and besides, I was taking a wild shot that I'd be able to get something that really was off the menu. So I smiled and said, "A six-pack of Bacon Cheeseburger shots is just as good, thanks." And that's what I got.

Before I left, I asked the manager to pass my suggestion up the line. Bacon Double Cheeseburger Shots would indeed be awesome. In the meantime, though, I'll be happy with the bacon.

Burger King Burger Shots

Back in 1987, Burger King introduced some miniature burgers that they called "Burger Bundles." Sold in sets of three or six, the little snackers were not a big success, even though BK tried spreading the concept across their menu, with sausage/egg/cheese "Breakfast Bundles" and chicken patty "Chicken Bundles." Later, the small sandwiches were unsuccessfully reintroduced using the cuter name "Burger Buddies."

Today, Burger Buddies are back, under a brand new name: Burger King Burger Shots. They're sold in six-packs only, packaged in flat cardboard flip-top boxes. Apparently, this item is still in development - with my area of Southern New England as part of a test market - because they're called "Burger Shots" on the signage, "mini BURGERS" on the packaging, and they are missing entirely from the official BK website.

Miniature burgers are a great idea - a sales gimmick that has worked for years for White Castle and Krystal - and I can not understand why Burger King hasn't been able to make a go of these. They are delicious. Each burger is made up of the same 100% beef as the standard patties, flame broiled, given a pickle, a small squirt of ketchup and mustard, tasty orange cheese if desired, and topped with a marvelously soft and fresh lightly grilled top bun.

Burger Shots have other good points besides deliciousness. Small food is fun, you know. If you have a couple of kids to feed, I guarantee they'd be delighted to share a box of Shots. They'd be great party food, too. Three or four sixpacks of Burger Shots stacked up on a platter next to the beers, a ballgame on the TV, and you're all set for the afternoon. The burgers are bigger relative to the buns at this scale, too, so they might even be a better deal than getting a couple of cheeseburgers. A six pack of these things are just made for sharing, you know? My wife and I split a box between us. It's more eating than a standard burger, but lighter than two of them. It's just about the perfect-sized lunch.

The only thing I don't really like about them is they're made in some kind of strange connected form - you need to pull two apart to get a single burger, and sometimes the pickle or the patty slips and winds up hanging out of the bun (messy.)

Overall, though, they're great. The only thing that could make me happier with them would be if they were topped with BACON. You got that, Your Highness? Get some bacon on those Shots and you'll have an unstoppable juggernaut of flame-broiled goodness.

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Coach D's Steamed Cheeseburgers, Springfield MA

It was early April when I first saw the sign on the storefront on Sumner Avenue in Springfield: COACH D'S STEAMED CHEESEBURGERS COMING SOON. Since then, I never failed to check out the little plaza whenever I was near that neighborhood, anticipating the arrival of steamed cheeseburgers to Western Massachusetts.

And this weekend, my patience was rewarded! The GRAND OPENING banner was stretched across the front windows of the shop! Joy!

We parked in the back of the building and walked around front to the entrance. There were a few people placing orders at the counter, and we joined them. The menu is quite basic - steamed burgers, BLTs, onion rings, fries, chili cheese fries, milkshakes, and canned soda from a cooler - but it's obvious that this restaurant is concentrating on the burgers and not losing their focus with an overly-ambitious menu.

We placed our orders with the pleasant young man at the cash register and found a bistro-style table out front to await our meal. Despite the number of people ordering, we didn't have to wait long for our food - two steamed cheeseburgers with "the works" - lettuce, tomato, and mayo - an order of fries, and an order of onion rings.

Our burgers were perfect - big, juicy steamed patties topped with meltydelicious wedges of soft warm New York State mild cheddar, lovely leaf lettuce, and fresh summery tomatoes (extra credit to Coach D for the tomatoes - most restaurants are still serving nasty, hard, winter tomatoes this early in the season; this place goes the extra mile to find high-quality slicing tomatoes that have a vine-fresh texture and flavor.) The steamed beauties were as good as anything I've had at Ted's Restaurant in Meriden and even better than the ones I've had at other central Connecticut locations.

The onion rings, although a commercially prepared frozen product, were also excellent. These were not chopped-and-formed nasties, but instead panko-breaded and delicious, fried to golden-brown crispiness, and a perfect accompaniment to the burgers.

The fries were a little less successful. Also a frozen commercial product, we would have preferred it if they had spent an extra few minutes in the fryer (they would have been crispier and more enjoyable.)

Overall, however, we were mighty pleased with Coach D's. There are a few bistro tables that seat one or two people, a couple booths, and an line of stools at a counter-style dining table. The day we were there, a TV in the corner was tuned to ESPN. Service is cafeteria-style and patrons are expected to bus their own tables; the atmosphere is casual and friendly, and the owner has a smile and a greeting for everyone who comes in. On the day we were there, there was a steady stream of customers and while the kitchen was kept plenty busy, there were no delays or unpleasant surprises from back of house. We will definitely be going again.

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UPDATE - 20 APRIL 2009: Coach D's Steamed Cheeseburgers has closed.

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In Praise of Steamed Cheeseburgers

Chances are, if you're not from Southern New England, you've never heard of a "steamed cheeseburger." Fairly popular in central Connecticut, they are all but unknown in the rest of the country.

For diehard fans, steamed cheeseburgers are the only burgers that are worth eating. For everyone else, they're a delicious change of pace that should be experienced at least once. Five ounces of high-quality ground beef are packed into a rectangular tray, steamed in a stovetop contraption called the Burg'R Tend'R until done, then served on a soft Vienna roll topped with melted mild cheddar cheese and various fixings (which might include lettuce, tomato, onion, and bacon.)

As the burger steams, it sort of pulls together into a thick, deliciously juicy patty that almost resembles a meatball more than a hamburger patty. Just before serving, it's topped with a thick layer of steam-melted cheddar cheese (usually a mild to mid-sharp NY or Wisconsin cheddar, almost never a plain bland "American cheese.") The texture and flavor is wonderful. Top it with lettuce, tomato, mayo, and a few strips of bacon and you have a sandwich that you will never forget.

The first steamed cheeseburgers were served in the late 1940's at a small restaurant called Jack's Lunch in Middletown, CT. A few other diners and lunch counters in central Connecticut also started serving them, and in the 1950's Paul Duberek of Meriden CT began selling them to workers at construction sites and factories, from a small lunch cart equipped with a sandwich steamer. His son Ted, who now owns and operates Ted's Restaurant in Meriden, carries on the tradition today.

The Burg'R Tend'R

Most diners and restaurants serving steamed cheeseburgers use a special stovetop steaming cabinet called a Burg'R Tend"R, which was invented and patented by Dale Greenbacker, a Connecticut metalworker, who incorporated his business as Daleco Inc. in 1978. The commercial-sized Burg'R Tend'R has twelve trays which are used to steam the burgers and melt the blocks of cheese. A somewhat smaller home-kitchen version is also available for true steamed cheeseburger fanatics.

Daleco is now run by Bob Gattilia, and has a website where you can buy your very own Burg'R Tend'R. Click here to visit the Burg'R Tend'R website.

Other Links:

Ted's Restaurant - Ted's is a great, funky, little luncheteria-type joint and the center of the Steamed Cheeseburger Universe. The website is loaded with info but is, unfortunately, rather hideously designed.

Serious Eats - This page on the Serious Eats website hosts the Steamed Cheeseburger excerpt from the documentary Hamburger America by George Motz. [Edited 01-20-2011 to remove link - the video is apparently gone from the Serious Eats site.]

The Better Burger Battle - A discussion on regional hamburger varieties with details on steamed cheeseburgers including an extensive bibliography. Scroll down to the bottom of the page.

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Where's My Spicy Baconator, Damn It?

Hey Wendy, you got a minute? We need to talk.

You're really letting yourself go to hell lately, you know? I mean, the quality slide after Dave died - well, that kind of thing happens but everyone expected that you'd pick yourself up and soldier on. Instead, it's been just one low point after another.

I still remember the day we met. That Double with cheese was the cat's ass. Thick, juicy square burgers - so different from anything I'd ever had at a fast-food place! Do you know what the last burger you made me looked like? Greasy flat little sad-assed thing. If it hadn't been square, I'd have sworn I was over Ronald's place. Is that what you want, Wendy? To imitate a clown?

And your chili. I know, I know...you've always taken a lot of grief for your chili - too many beans, they say. Not spicy enough, they say. But I kind of liked it just the way it was. Not any more. That isn't chili, it's tomato soup with beans and a couple of pieces of hamburger in it. You're not fooling anyone with that crap.

Look, Wendy, I know we're not as close as we used to be, but deep down inside I'm still carrying a little torch for you. You have no idea how much it hurt me when you moved in with that dirtbag Arby. Eeugh. Pressed and formed "roast beef." How can you stand that? His "beef" has bubbles in it. It's disgusting.

And now...now, you've booted the Spicy Baconator. How could you do that to me, Wendy? The pickled jalapeños. The smoky chipotle sauce. The Pepper Jack cheese. You know I loved that sandwich, and you took it away. I'm sorry, but that's the last straw. I'm done. Maybe I'll go over and see what Red Robin's up to.

Hey, call me sometime, okay? You know, if you're making Spicy Baconators again.

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