Author: Michael

REVIEW: Pizza Hut Hot Sriracha Chicken Pizza (Canada)

Michael

Pizza Hut Hot Sriracha Chicken Pizza

I like Pizza Hut. It might be my favourite of the big pizza chains. Not that I even think the pizzas are that great, but I appreciate that they know exactly what they are: a purveyor of junky fast food.

They don’t have the delusions of grandeur like some other chains; there’s no “rustic” this or “artisan” that. What they will do, however, is cram cheese, hot dogs, and whatever else they can think of into a crust so oil-laden that it will leave your hands slick with grease if you handle it for even just a second or two. They’ll top the pizza with stuff like poutine or butter chicken.

They know exactly what they are, and they’re not ashamed of it. I like that.

Which is to say that replacing the tomato sauce in a pizza with sriracha is a distinctively Pizza Huttian creation. But is it actually good? The short answer: better than you’d think! The long answer: read on, my friend.

The base of the pizza is the standard Pizza Hut Pan Pizza. It is what it is; you either like it or you don’t, and personally, I like it (and I’m a little bit in awe of how they’re able to cram so much grease into the thing). It’s not something you’d want to eat every day, but when you’re in the mood for that crispy, greasy goodness, it satisfies.

Pizza Hut Hot Sriracha Chicken Pizza Closeup

It’s topped with sriracha, green peppers, banana peppers, grilled chicken strips, and, of course, mozzarella. And they’re definitely not kidding around with the sriracha: when I was driving the pizza home, it so thoroughly filled the car with that very distinctive sriracha aroma that the spice vapours actually tickled my nose a bit.

Sadly, it’s not quite as spicy as I might have hoped. It’s hot, don’t get me wrong, but on the mild-medium-hot scale, it falls squarely in the middle. It’s certainly not as spicy as any variety of sriracha that I’ve tried — and sriracha isn’t even close to the hottest hot sauce out there. Clearly, they’re using a very mild sriracha, or they’re diluting it with something.

Pizza Hut Hot Sriracha Chicken Pizza Slice

The flavour is certainly there, however — it’s got that satisfyingly sweet, slightly garlicky flavour that’s made sriracha so hot over the last couple of years (Get it? Hot?? World Pun Championships, here I come!).

The banana peppers are banana peppers. Personally I’m not a fan, and this pizza did nothing to change my mind. I don’t mind them in theory, but every time I get them on a pizza — without fail — I wind up chomping down on a rock-hard stem. I’m convinced that banana peppers are at least 50 percent borderline-inedible stems. And they’re not even that hot, so what’s the point? Banana peppers are the spicy pizza topping for people who don’t actually like spice.

The other toppings were fine. The green peppers added some crunch and a bit of flavour, which worked well with the other elements of the pizza. The chicken is, I’m pretty sure, of the processed variety rather than actual pieces of chicken. It’s a bit rubbery, but it’s okay. It’s not egregious, and there’s enough else going on here that you can’t really tell either way.

The cheese, like the crust, is standard Pizza Hut. Gooey, slightly salty, and abundant.

All in all, it’s not a bad pizza. Subbing out tomato sauce for sriracha could have been a disaster, but somehow, it works. It certainly earns its name, as that distinctive condiment is very much the dominant flavour here. I wish it were spicier, but if you like Sriracha and don’t mind pizzas of the bastardized variety, I’d give this one a shot.

(Nutrition Facts – Not available on Pizza Hut Canada website.)

Item: Pizza Hut Hot Sriracha Chicken Pizza
Purchased Price: $18.00 CAN
Size: Large
Purchased at: Pizza Hut
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Serious sriracha flavour. The toppings (mostly) work pretty well together. Pizza Hut Pan Pizza crust continues to be a junky classic.
Cons: Not as spicy as you’d think. Banana peppers are the worst. Slightly chewy chicken. Realizing that the “hot” pun is not nearly good enough to get me to the World Pun Championships.

REVIEW: Doritos Roulette (Canada)

Michael 17 Comments

Doritos Roulette

This could very easily be the shortest review in the history of this site. Doritos Roulette are Nacho Cheese Doritos, with the occasional very spicy chip mixed into the bunch. The end. Mic drop.

But I guess I should probably justify my existence here and write a bit more than that. Now where’s that mic…

Not much needs to be said about Nacho Cheese Doritos. They’re the original Doritos flavour, and arguably the tastiest. If you’ve somehow never had them and need me to describe the flavour, then I’m going to assume that you stumbled onto this site by accident. Perhaps you were looking for the Impulsive Buoy, the boating website? Because I’m pretty sure if you did a Venn diagram of “people who read junk food blogs” and “people who have tried Nacho Cheese Doritos,” the two circles would be pretty much right on top of each other.

But fine, for the boat enthusiasts among you, I’ll throw you a bone: Nacho Cheese Doritos are cheesy (I know, shocker, right?) — cheddar in particular — with a salty, fake-in-the-best-way possible flavour, and enough else going on to make them irresistibly addictive. They’re a classic for a reason. They’re hard to dislike.

As for Roulette, the bag is predominantly Nacho Cheese Doritos, which are just as tasty as ever. However, about 25 percent, give or take, are a little different than your standard Nacho Cheese chip: they’re spicy. Very spicy.

Now, I’m no slouch when it comes to spice. Typically, mass-market snacks or fast food items labeled as spicy register for me as a vague tickle, the equivalent of a small kitten playfully batting at your hands. I say this not to boast, but to provide context for this statement: these are legitimately spicy. They’re certainly not the hottest thing you’ve ever had, but you’re definitely going to feel (feel feel) the heat.

If most so-called spicy items are the aforementioned kitten, this is a solid slap in the face.

Doritos Roulette Closeup

Aside from the spice, these chips look and taste just like a regular Nacho Cheese Dorito. So you really have no idea what you’re going to get until you pop it in your mouth (must… resist… “that’s what she said” joke).

It’s actually really good! The combination of regular chips and super spicy ones work surprisingly well. I don’t know if I’d want a whole bag of Doritos this spicy, but here, where you get a few regular chips to cool your mouth between the hot ones, it’s actually quite satisfying.

And of course, that’s not to mention the potential hilarity of eating these with a spice wimp and watching them squirm when they get a spicy one.

I was expecting these to be more of a novelty item than anything else, but I actually wound up enjoying them far more than I thought I would. I’m assuming these are a limited-time-only deal, but if they weren’t, I’d definitely add them to my regular Dorito rotation.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 package (80 grams) – 420 calories, 22 grams of fat, 3 grams of saturated fat, 0.2 grams of trans fat, 5 milligrams of cholesterol, 600 milligrams of sodium, 50 grams of carbohydrates, 4 grams fibre, 1 gram sugar, 6 grams protein.)

Item: Doritos Roulette (Canada)
Purchased Price: $1.49 CAN
Size: 80 gram bag
Purchased at: International News
Rating: 9 out of 10
Pros: Classic Nacho Cheese flavour. Good balance of spicy and not-spicy chips. Entertainment value of eating them with people who can’t tolerate spice. The ability to make Passenger 57 references while you eat.
Cons: Might be too spicy for some people. Realizing that a lot of people probably won’t get that Passenger 57 reference.

REVIEW: Mott’s Clamato Caesar Bacon Vodka Drink (Canada)

Michael 29 Comments

Mott's Clamato Caesar Bacon Vodka Drink

Mott’s Clamato Caesar Bacon Vodka Drink is the worst thing I’ve ever had. Note that I didn’t say that it’s the worst alcoholic drink I’ve ever had. Or even the worst beverage I’ve ever had. It’s so much worse than that. It is the worst thing I’ve ever ingested — and as a kid I ate an entire sample-sized tube of toothpaste on a dare.

Yes, eating toothpaste straight from the tube is better than this.

I honestly don’t even know how to describe the flavour. It’s piercing and relentless. It is a dentist’s drill, screaming into your taste buds, forever changing you. Haunting you.

It starts with a base of the worst tomato juice you can imagine. I guess that’s just Clamato — however, I felt compelled to try Clamato on its own for the purposes of this review, and it wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t good, certainly, but at least I could drink it without triggering my gag reflex.

The ingredient list contains both onion and garlic as well as onion powder and garlic powder. This is stuff that can be quite tasty in other contexts, but here it seems laser-honed to make this drink as astringently foul as humanly possible.

Worst of all is the face-slappingly aggressive fake bacon flavour. You don’t notice it right away, but then it comes in hard and fast, lingering on your palate long after it has worn out its welcome. If you’ve tried one of those fake bacon products that were all the rage a couple of years back (bacon salt, bacon mayo, etc.) then you basically know what to expect — only multiplied ten-fold. This is extra strength fake bacon flavour. It is in your face and out of control. It will make you wonder why you like bacon in the first place.

Mott's Clamato Caesar Bacon Vodka Drink Closeup

I will say that the other flavours here (the disgusting ones) are so powerful that you can barely even tell you’re drinking alcohol until the buzz starts setting in. I’m sure the vodka adds some additional bitterness, but it’s so thoroughly masked by everything else that you’d have a hard time placing it. So if you’re the type of person who doesn’t like the taste of alcohol, well… Nope, I can’t finish that sentence. Even if you dislike alcohol, you’ll dislike this more. Because it is the worst.

I don’t think I’ve adequately described the horrors of this drink. I don’t have the words. Each sip was seemingly worse than the last. I knew that, for the purposes of the review, I needed to take at least one big swig rather than the tentative sips that it otherwise demanded. The prospect of this terrified me. No good could come of it. Eventually, I gathered up my courage and took a big, hearty gulp; it was like an assault. I let out a primal, guttural groan. I wanted to pass out from the awfulness.

Mott’s Clamato Caesar Bacon Vodka Drink filled me with a kind of existential dread; if a mass-market product this horrible can exist, what does it all mean? What’s the point of even getting up in the morning if a big company like Mott’s can inflict something so odious on the public with such shocking ease? A product this bad is criminal. I demand public trials and jail sentences.

I will admit that I’m not a big Caesar guy, but I had a couple of other people try it as well (because misery loves company), including one person who has Caesars semi-regularly. Both agreed it was the worst. One person decried that his taste buds were forever ruined; the other took one swig, shook his head with a very declarative “No,” and dumped the rest down the sink.

The issue of how best to remove that taste from our mouths was discussed. We all agreed that a thorough toothbrushing followed by mouthwash was probably the best course of action. Even then, the taste lingered. It’s gone now, but the memory remains. I will carry it with me for as long as I live. I will never forget.

(Nutrition Facts – Not available on can.)

Item: Mott’s Clamato Caesar Bacon Vodka Drink
Purchased Price: $2.80 CAN
Size: 458 ml can
Purchased at: LCBO
Rating: 0 out of 10
Pros: It is so unspeakably awful it will give you an added appreciation for everything else in your life; after all, no matter how bad things are, you could be drinking this drink.
Cons: Horrible aftertaste. Horrible duringtaste. Horrible everythingtaste. If there is a hell, this is all they serve there. If the worst pain you’ve ever experienced — emotional or physical — could be distilled into a flavour, it would taste like this.

REVIEW: Harvey’s Strawberry Pop-Tart Ice Cream Sandwich (Canada)

Michael 4 Comments

Harvey's Strawberry Pop-Tart Ice Cream Sandwich

Harvey’s, a popular Canadian burger chain, recently came out with an ice cream sandwich made with Strawberry Pop-Tarts; this is not to be confused with the Hardee’s/Carl’s Jr. Pop-Tart Ice Cream Sandwich, also made with Strawberry Pop-Tarts (and thanks to Harvey’s’ lawyers, Hardee’s is actually not allowed to call themselves Hardee’s in Canada, and instead must go by Carl’s Jr., which is basically the same restaurant, just with a different name).

What was I talking about? Oh yes, Pop-Tarts, ice cream, and the sandwich born from their union.

It was actually better than I thought it would be. For one thing, I was afraid the sandwich would be made with untoasted Pop-Tarts. There are two types of people in the world: people who like their Pop-Tarts toasted, and people who are wrong. I don’t know what the afterlife entails, but I know that those raw Pop-Tart eating maniacs will never get there — they will be condemned to wander for all eternity in a horrifying purgatory, cursed with the terrible knowledge that it was their ill-advised opinion on Pop Tarts that brought them there.

Thankfully, the Pop-Tarts here are toasted — lightly toasted, but enough to remove that doughy flavour and texture that uncooked Pop Tarts have.

I thought that perhaps the sandwiches would be assembled on the spot, however they are actually created in advance and frozen, Pop-Tarts and all. A sandwich made with a warm Pop-Tart, with the ice cream starting to get melty, and with a satisfying contrast between hot and cold would have been nice, but alas.

Harvey's Strawberry Pop-Tart Ice Cream Sandwich Closeup

Though I was afraid that the freezing process would make the filling of the Pop-Tart unpleasantly hard, I was again happy to be proven wrong. The deep freeze actually gives the filling a pleasantly toothsome chew; this worked quite well in the context of an ice cream sandwich.

The ice cream itself was fine. It has a generically sweet, creamy taste, without much vanilla flavour. But it’s smooth and not icy at all, and honestly, if you were expecting much better than that from a Pop-Tart sandwich from Harvey’s, then you clearly have your own issues you need to work out. It is what it is. If you’ve ever had those budget ice cream sandwiches from the supermarket, you know what to expect from the ice cream.

The whole thing results in a dessert that’s actually fairly satisfying. It’s not overly sweet and there’s a little bit of tartness (Pop-Tartness?) from the filling. There’s a good contrast of textures between the Pop-Tart and the ice cream, and the price feels right at two bucks.

(Nutrition Facts – Nutrition facts not available on Harvey’s website.)

Item: Harvey’s Strawberry Pop-Tart Ice Cream Sandwich
Purchased Price: $1.99 CAN
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Harvey’s
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Contains a Pop-Tart that is toasted rather than raw. Decent quality vanilla ice cream. The frozen Pop-Tart has a satisfying chewiness. Only two bucks.
Cons: The ice cream isn’t exactly gourmet. A sandwich assembled fresh with a hot Pop-Tart would have been nice.

REVIEW: Tim Hortons Tims Crispy Chicken Sandwich

Michael 6 Comments

Tim Hortons Tims Crispy Chicken Sandwich

I can’t say I was super excited to try Tims Crispy Chicken Sandwich — and yes, that’s Tims, not Tim’s. Just as Tim Hortons is oddly missing an apostrophe, so too is this sandwich. Clearly, someone at Tim Hortons hates punctuation.

When a fast food item doesn’t even look particularly good in its publicity shot, you know you’re probably in trouble (though to their credit, the actual sandwich looks remarkably similar to its beauty shot, so they’re at least not trying to trick you into thinking you’re getting something that you’re not). But after my pleasant surprise with the Tim Hortons Pretzel Bagel, I went in hoping for the best.

If, when you look at the picture of this sandwich, you think to yourself, “That looks like something I could buy from the freezer section at Costco,” you are correct. It tastes like something you could buy from the freezer section at Costco. If, on the other hand, you look at that picture and think, “That looks pretty good,” you are wrong. Get better eyeballs.

I will give this sandwich one thing: they’re not kidding around with the whole “crispy” thing. I’m fairly certain the chicken is baked rather than fried, so I was expecting something in the middle ground between crispy and soggy, but that was absolutely not the case. In fact, I’d say crispy isn’t even the right word, as that implies a delicateness that isn’t present here. This was full-out crunchy.

That sounds like it should be one of the best qualities of this sandwich; crunchy breaded chicken is delicious, right? Right. Well, usually. Somehow, with the style of breading employed here, it just comes off as oddly overbearing. It’s nothing too offensive, but it’s slightly off-putting.

The breading otherwise doesn’t have a ton of flavour, other than that generic saltiness that you’d expect from the el-cheapo breaded chicken you’d dig out of the back of the freezer at the supermarket.

Tim Hortons Tims Crispy Chicken Sandwich Side

As for the chicken itself, it’s processed chicken slurry formed into a sandwich shape, rather than an actual piece of chicken breast. It’s dry and slightly spongy, with only the vaguest chicken flavour. Mostly, it just tastes of the aforementioned generic, processed saltiness.

Otherwise, the toppings are completely no-frills: a couple of mealy tomato slices, some lettuce, and a little bit of mayo. The soft, fresh bun was actually pretty good, and almost certainly the best thing about the sandwich.

Seriously, this is a mystifyingly mediocre sandwich. This is hospital-cafeteria-caliber food. That wouldn’t be so bad if it were being marketed as a budget offering — say, two bucks, or three at the very most. It would still be a bad sandwich, but at least you could justify it somewhat. “It’s not very good,” you’d say, “but at least it’s cheap!” The sadness in your eyes would belie the truth — that nothing could possibly justify willingly consuming such a blatantly mediocre sandwich — but at the very least you could take some small solace in its affordability.

But no such solace is provided here: they’re charging a full $4.99, putting this right in line with the premium chicken sandwiches at other fast food joints. And those sandwiches are, across the board, much, much better than this thing. Heck, the location I ate at was a Tim Hortons / Wendy’s combo restaurant, which means I could have walked a few steps to the right and purchased a far superior sandwich for the exact same price. A sandwich made out of an actual chicken breast, with a texture that doesn’t resemble a meaty sponge, and with breading that doesn’t taste like sadness.

This certainly isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever eaten. I’d go as far as to say that it’s perfectly edible; there’s nothing particularly gross about it. But there’s nothing particularly good about it, either. And it’s flat-out offensive that they’re charging a premium price for what is ever-so-clearly not a premium product.

(Nutrition Facts – 440 calories, 15 grams of fat, 3 grams of saturated fat, 0.1 grams of trans fat, 1000 milligrams of sodium, 58 grams of carbohydrates, 5 grams of fibre, 3 grams of sugar, and 20 grams of protein.)

Item: Tim Hortons Tims Crispy Chicken Sandwich
Purchased Price: $4.99 CAN
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Tim Hortons
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: The bun is pretty good. I feel like I should put something else here, so, um… the condiments were fine?
Cons: About on par with something you’d get at a cafeteria. Way overpriced. Dry, spongey, processed-tasting chicken. Overly crunchy breading. Tastes like sadness.