Monday, November 05, 2007

I Tried A McGriddle

Recently I was forced nearly against my will to choose McDonald's as a viable source for breakfast when my normal place was sold out of my favorite items and God forbid I keep basic essentials like cereal and milk on hand at home. While at McDonald's, I made a split decision to try what they call a "McGriddle," which as far as I could tell seemed to be the word "griddle" with "Mc" attached to the front of it.

I knew McGriddles existed for a while now, but I've always been reluctant to try one. Every time I looked at the picture, I saw a splotched, tan bun with a giant "M" stamped on the top of it. A good rule to go by is that anything in nature that is brown and splotched is probably damaging if eaten, for instance, toads, spiders, mushrooms, rotten fruit... Another good rule is that nothing in nature comes with a giant "M" stamped into it. Nothing worth eating, anyway.

Armed with this knowledge, I was reluctant to try a McGriddle because I don't particularly enjoy spending upwards of three dollars on a breakfast sandwich that could kill me. However, anything I eat at McDonald's at any given time could kill me, if not for the nutritional value and the lack thereof, then for the simple fact that it's generally made by seventeen-year-olds who don't give a fuck because they make minimum wage and they're seventeen. So on a whim, I decided to order one McGriddle along with a McMuffin in case the McGriddle tasted like McVomit.

I was pleasantly surprised that the McGriddle was really not that bad. It actually had a sweet taste to it, probably because it was sandwiched between two pancakes. However, to say that it was greasy would be to say that the ocean is moist. Despite the taste, it felt like I was biting into a wet sea anenome, or maybe
this thing, (it's a type of fish). It had all the texture of a deep fried pork rind. (Yes, I know all pork rinds are deep fried, but here I'm specifically referring to a pork rind that someone put into a deep frier again before serving.)

The one time I ever tried a pork rind, it was so full of lard that I literally could not breathe for several seconds, and I decided at that time that nothing that greasy ever needs to go into my body again. The McGriddle was greasier than that. It's like they took the full sandwich, with the pancake bun, and dropped it in the deep fat fryer for several seconds before wrapping it up and shoving it in a bag. Apparently, the main property of pancakes in relation to grease is absorption. And everybody knows that the primary ingredient of any McDonald's food, from the burgers to the Coke, is grease.

As I ate this thing, I could feel my arteries clogging and my body reeling in protest. When I had finished, I felt sick to my stomach, probably because the only thing in it was a viscous, oily substance of indeterminate origin. It made me wonder how anybody could believe that anything that makes you feel this utterly horrible just upon ingestion could in any way be good for them. Luckily, I still had a McMuffin to follow so I could get some sort of nutritional value from my breakfast, even if the only nutritional value would be more calories than anybody needs in a day. It's sad when you have to eat a McMuffin to overcome the sense of nausea that stems from eating a McGriddle.

Over my following weekend from work, I mused that it might behoove our breakfast sandwich vendor to create a similar breakfast sandwich, though, because despite possessing the digestibility of a can of Crisco, it was actually pretty tasty, and since McGriddles seem to be pretty popular, I felt it would go over pretty well. Turns out, when I returned to work, I was mildly surprised to find that they did leave us a case of "sausage, egg, and cheese in a pancake sandwich."

This was much better because it wasn't nearly as greasy as the McGriddle. As in, it's barely greasy at all. It's just like a McGriddle, only perfect in ways that McDonald's could never comprehend. I have one a day because as far as I can tell, there's no FDA required nutritional information anywhere to be found, which means it's devoid of all nutritional value, right? Okay, I'm not as gullible as
fat people in New England, but I am impressed at my burgeoning psychic abilities. I possess the ability to mentally shape the world in miniscule and entirely insignificant ways. And that pleases me in ways that no breakfast sandwich could ever compare.

np: Talisman - "Humanimal"


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