Author: Louis

We, as a society, move one minute closer to the somewhat dystopic culinary midnight of a full-on meat replacement with the commercial-creation and mass-consumption of the Sonic Signature Slingers, a new limited-time cheeseburger with a “100-percent pure beef” patty that is apparently “blended with savory mushrooms and seasonings” which, according to the good folks at Sonic, is something that is “almost too good to be true.”

They said the same thing about Soylent Green.

Futuristic nutritional values and dietary requirements aside, however, Sonic’s big selling point of their Signature Slinger (a cooler way to say slider, I guess?) is that their “Classic” option is a better burger for you and your health, “starting at under 350 calories.” What you do with the rest of it is up to you and your dietician, I guess, especially when considering that a much heftier (and financially comparable) Jr. Deluxe Burger is only 380 calories.

At first glance, the Classic Slinger is a bit of a greasy mess, with the “bakery-quality” brioche bun simply glistening with grease as errant mayo and cheese glooped and glopped about with no remorse. The patty itself was yawningly flat and offered nothing noticeable to the naked eye to distinguish it from any other ol’ beef patty they serve, especially when desperately aided with pickles, onions, and tomatoes. (The promised lettuce, however, was nowhere in sight, at least not here.)

Taste-wise, the mushrooms and any expected earthiness thereof was just not there, not in any apparent shape or form. Not only that, but the patty was actually kind of dry and the requisite dowsing of mayo and cheese was a real Godsend in this case, adding much needed texture and flavor to the proceedings, aided with many sips of a Rt. 44 Diet Dr. Pepper, of course.

To be honest, the Classic Sonic Signature Slinger is really nothing special; it’s a fine little cheeseburger to be sure, but one that is just as comparable in most ways to any other sandwich on the value menu. This goes double for the mostly redundant Bacon Melt Signature Slingers, which is more of the same except for, you guessed it, bacon.

Served on the same “bakery-quality” brioche bun, those smoky strips of greasy pork add nothing but extra calories and fat to a cheeseburger whose sole purpose was to be better than that. There’s very little charm to the whole thing, the same dry patty in need of extra cheese and mayo, leaving the customer wondering what far more substantial alternatives on the menu they should’ve ordered instead.

After trying both varieties, it’s mostly left me wondering who, exactly, are these are for? They’re obviously not for vegetarians, they’re not all that better for you, health-wise, and, worst of all, they add no sort of new and spectacular flavor sensations to the palate to set them apart from the rest of the all-beef pack. I guess, out of natural curiosity, they’re worth a try or two, but, in the long run, they’re just kind of…there.

That being said, I do look forward to the next scientific development in the Sonic test kitchens, presumably that of the all-mushroom beef-flavored patty in the next few frightening years. Charlton Heston would be proud. ¡Cómpralo ya!

(Nutrition Facts – Classic – 340 calories. The other nutrition facts aren’t available on the Sonic website.)

Purchased Price: $1.99
Size: N/A
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: Supposedly under 350 calories. The novelty of a mushroom beef-patty. Charlton Heston screaming in the streets.
Cons: Dry and in need of plenty of calorie-inducing condiments. No mushroom “flavor.” Kind of pointless.

Oh Wendy, you flame-haired temptress of the square-shaped beef patty.

Does your daddy know how you gently lull me into your old-fashioned restaurants with a diabolical siren’s song of always-fresh, never frozen promises, only to leave me standing alone, naked and ashamed, clutching desperately to a lukewarm baked potato and a couple of double-stacks, mildly disappointed but always willing to take the blame nevertheless?

Lessons never learned, the most recent entry in the current Smokey Mountain jamboree of fast-food foodstuffs we’re seemingly in the middle of, the new Smoky Mushroom Bacon Cheeseburger, is a timely tune the beloved freckled-face spitfire is warbling to all within hungry earshot, promising the rich flavor of “smoky” portabella mushrooms, “smoky” mushroom aioli, crispy fried onions, Asiago cheese, and three strips of Applewood-smoked bacon on top of its signature beef and buns.

Which, of course, all sounds absolutely entrancing, a medley of taste sensations crafting a ballistic ballet to an overture of distinct flavors as my mouth waters while simply standing in line, the professional photography teasing me with spilling sides of dense fungi and even denser cheese product, bacon scintillatingly peeking out with onion strings mingling sensually in the glistening drippings. And so then, order up, I take a bite deep and lovingly into it. And another. And then another…

As the singular sadness of dine-in disappointment starts to set in, Wendy’s has desperately made another promise they apparently couldn’t keep; while absolutely loaded with said onions, mushrooms, and aioli, they are brutally rendered mostly flavorless and obsolete thanks to a spectacularly greasy overkill from the Wendy’s beef and especially from the Applewood-smoked bacon.

Don’t get me wrong — it makes for a good bacon burger of sorts, but there might as well be no ‘shrooms at all on the thing, lest they simply need a name-brand filler to plump up this jam, unnecessarily loading it for dramatic sales effect.

Hey, it looked great in the pictures.

However, these same toppings are additionally offered on the similarly-named Smoky Mushroom Baked Potato, the must-have tuber of the year. Where they failed in burger form, Wendy’s wonderfully hits the top of the pops here, with the smoky zest of the sautéed mushrooms fully loaded and blending magically with the cheese drenching and moderate drizzle of bacon bits on top of a damp baked potato still soaking in its own sweat. It paired like a prince with my *sigh* double-stacks.

In the pantheon of Wendy’s hits or misses, the Smoky Mushroom Bacon Cheeseburger is to be considered a flawed flop, but it’s got a hell of a B-side in its Baked Potato variant that’ll go on to be a cult favorite. Regardless, I’ll always keep an ear out for whatever your next pied pipings of edible tidings will be Wendy, but only ‘cause I’m a sucker for a redhead holding square-shaped slices of beef. ¡Cómpralo ya!

(Nutrition Facts – (single) – 760 calories, 440 calories from fat, 49 grams of fat, 15 grams of saturated fat, 1.5 grams of trans fat, 110 milligrams of cholesterol, 1310 milligrams of sodium, 46 grams of carbohydrates, 4 grams of fiber, 6 grams of sugar, and 36 grams of protein.)

Purchased Price: $2.99
Size: N/A
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: Makes for a great bacon cheeseburger. Plump with plenty of ingredients. Potato companion worth the add-on.
Cons: Can’t taste the mushrooms over the meat. Too much bacon. Almost too greasy.

Over the course of this here blessed lifetime, I have come to consider myself quite worldly in the grand scheme of most things barbeque. I’ve sampled and enjoyed the various takes and numerous styles of this homegrown culinary tradition throughout this sticky-fingered country, leaving a long trail of broken hearts and used wet wipes along the way. With that little preamble said and done, I have to admit the new KFC Smokey Mountain BBQ chicken has left me a little more perplexed than usual.

While it claims to be something of a mixture of the various “sweet, smoky flavors of Southern BBQ” — interpret that however you will — the vague drenching of this supposed sauce on my two-piece seems to have more in comparison with the off-putting artificial flavoring of BBQ-seasoning dusted on a bag of cheap store-brand potato chips than any tried and true ‘que creation I’ve ever come in contact with. It’s really the only thing found in nature that, after numerous unlikable bites, I can honestly compare it to.

Having been a moderate fan of KFC’s attempt at Georgia Gold honey mustard barbeque (and, to a somewhat lesser extent, its moderately gentrified take on Nashville Hot Chicken), this generalized take on what it consider to be Smokey Mountain flavors, seemed half-hearted at best, right down to the chintzy drizzle over my extra crispy pieces. They resembled nothing like the glorious coating on every photogenic cut of poultry in every piece of promotional material.

Of course, like most KFC products, the chicken itself was right on, juicy and tender, hot and crispy and served with a kitchen fresh smile. The problem here is totally with the Smokey Mountain sauce, which is comically salty and overly sweet to a fault, necessitating more than the daily recommended allowance of trips to the soda fountain to swish and spit that mouth-binding fraudulent Southern sass that the Colonel wrongfully thinks represents said mountainous regions.

Now, with all that being said in regards to both the two-piece bone-in or three-piece tenders meal, I will casually admit that the sauce does work better when you order it as part of its totes adorbs Chicken Littles menu, the plump sesame seed buns, pickles, and mayonnaise working together as an excellent buffer, bringing out the more flavorful qualities of the Smokey Mountain sauce as a probable condiment while religiously oppressing the glaring flaws of its main reason for being.

Even though I’m always eager to see whatever concoctions the flavor wizards deep in the Dixieland Laboratories of the KFC Sassafrassin’ Sauce Studios come up with next, this is definitely one that should’ve gone back for a little more quality control testing, honey. Until then, I’ll just keep sneaking in my pocket-sized flask of Cholula Green Pepper hot sauce to pro-actively blanket that two-piece extra crispy myself. Ya’ heard, KFC?

(Nutrition Facts – 2-piece chicken only – 260 calories, 150 calories from fat, 16 grams of fat, 3.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 110 milligrams of cholesterol, 810 milligrams of sodium, 7 grams of carbohydrates, 1 grams of fiber, 0 grams of sugar, and 22 grams of protein.)

Purchased Price: $4.99
Size: 2-piece (drumstick and wing)
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: Makes a good condiment for a sandwich. Chicken Little fits in a pocket.br />
Cons: Too salty. Tastes like cheap BBQ chips. Skimps on sauce.