Tag: Arby’s

There are a lot of overused terms in the food world. If buzz words, like “sustainable” or “artisan,” are moderately annoying when eating at restaurants which actually offer those things, then hearing them applied in a fast food setting borders on ridiculous.

I mean great, McDonald’s, I really appreciate the curiously addictive taste of the Filet-o-Fish, but who among us is really eating a square fish stick sandwich with a half slice of processed cheese product because we care about the feelings of Peter the Pollack?

Another term that gets thrown around too much is “House Made.” Take Arby’s new House Made Kettle Chips. Yes, I know the phrase designates a food made at the restaurant, but what the heck is that supposed to mean in Arby’s case? Does that mean some pimply faced high school kid who works at my local Arby’s is sitting out back with a potato peeler, a mandoline and a bag of fresh Idaho spuds, tossing potato slices into a kettle of hot oil that’s being manned by her or his grandmother?

Try as I might, I just couldn’t help but laugh at the idea and be skeptical. I’ve eaten a lot of chips in my life, some even in the thick-cut restaurant style Arby’s is touting, but not once do I ever remember any of those experiences involving a drive-through window or a $1.79 price tag.

A buck seventy-nine and a stop to chow down in the privacy of my own car later, and I have to say I’m not just pleasantly surprised, I’m stunned. Arby’s new chips don’t just win in the looks department, they also have a flavor and texture that makes me wonder why every fast food restaurant hasn’t considered potato chips. The crunch is far beyond anything you’ll get in a bag from the store, and that’s a good thing. Thick, hearty, and completely capable of breaking up an awkward silence, it’s the kind of crunch that no other fast food side can compete with.

Liberally coated in Arby’s “signature” seasoning, each taste has a wonderfully lickable tomato sweetness that’s also zesty. Yes, zesty. Not quite heat-packing, but more than just garlicky or onion-powdery, it’s the kind of sensation which would leave you in a ponderous state of “hmmm, what was that?” if it wasn’t for the unconquerable urge to quickly devour the next chip. The great thing about the chips though is that the seasoning powder eventually fades to the signature earthy meatiness of the potato.

If you’re anything like me, you often find yourself rushing through fries, but there’s something about these chips which almost forces you to chew and savor the potato flavor. At the risk of sounding hyperbolic, it’s the kind of taste and texture that seriously makes a guy or gal consider packing up the U-Haul and moving to Idaho.

Aside from going well with ketchup and not losing any textural integrity even when slathered with the scientific glory of Heinz, the chips also remain remarkably crunchy even hours after I bought them at my local Arby’s. In fact, nearly four hours after munching down on half the bag, I finished off the chips without noticing any diminished crunch or flavor.

While they lost some of their surface oil, they were no less addictive or finger licking. Considering how much I love the taste of fried potatoes, but get frustrated by cold and soggy fries that I don’t eat in the restaurant immediately, I found the chips to be the perfect answer to one of fast food’s most enduring dilemmas.

My complaints are minor. Seasoning itself is a bit salty and licking the seasoning ad nauseam can make the chips somewhat soggy. The chips should also lose points for coming in a single flavor, and not a various flavors like with store-bought chips. But like I said the complaints are minor, and given Arby’s reputation for offering a buttload of sauces – including the seriously underrated three-pepper sauce – even those who aren’t crazy about the standard seasoning can customize the flavor of the chips to some degree.

I have no idea how “house made” Arby’s House Made chips are, but after trying them out I’m hooked. They’ve got all the taste and addictiveness of Arby’s Curly Fry seasoning, yet none of the uneven cooking and inconsistent texture. Likewise, they pack a potato taste that would rival any actual house made potato chip from a sit-down restaurant, and have a crunch level beyond any store-bought chip I’ve ever eaten. Gimmicky name or not, this is one side item that deserves more than a roll of the eyes when it comes to its namesake, and it’s worth the extra charge to add it to any combo meal.

(Nutrition Facts – 450 calories, 27 grams of fat, 4 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 530 milligrams of sodium, 47 grams of carbohydrates, 5 grams of sugar, 1 grams of fiber, and 5 grams of protein.)

Other Arby’s House Made Kettle Chips reviews:
Grub Grade
Brand Eating

Item: Arby’s House Made Kettle Chips
Purchased Price: $1.79
Size: 3 oz.
Purchased at: Arby’s
Rating: 9 out of 10
Pros: Amazing level of crunch beyond any store-bought chip. Really does taste ‘house-made’ from an upscale restaurant. Addictive and finger-licking seasoning without the textural inconsistency of curly fries. Just the right amount of surface oil. Kettle-blistered mouthfeel. Goes awesome with ketchup. Relatively inexpensive.
Cons: Awesome source of fat. Doesn’t come in multiple flavors, like Black Pepper or Sour Cream and Onion. Chips get soggy if you’re determined to lick the seasoning completely clean before crunching down.

“Beef, it’s what’s for dinner.”

Well, maybe, not as much.

Beef prices have skyrocketed due to this year’s drought causing food companies to adjust their sizes and prices accordingly. For example, there’s Burger King who downsized to burger peasant with value menu attempts like the Bacon Burger. That, at least, is one way of trying to solve the problem of how to keep consumers interested in a changing supply landscape. The other is a lot more simple; just kill more turkeys.

I don’t mind too much. Not that I’ve ever seriously entertained the notion of hosting barnyard animals at social gatherings, but, if pressed as to which mammal I’d prefer to own should I ever come into possession of a working farm, I’d likely pick the gentle bovine over the gobbling Thanksgiving centerpiece. No offense to turkeys, but they’re just ugly to begin with.

They don’t taste that bad either, at least not in deli meat form. Given that fact, as well as their “healthy” reputation, we really should have seen Arby’s new Turkey Roasters coming sooner. No, not that kind of Roaster. More like this:

Arby’s Grand Turkey Club “Roaster” is one of three new turkey-centric sandwiches from the chain, pairing the usual suspects of Swiss cheese, bacon, and mayonnaise with thinly sliced oven roasted turkey.

According to Arby’s, it’s a sandwich so good, it actually “tastes like it’s more than a sandwich. We like to think of it as a savory, taste bud tingling masterpiece.”

It certainly passes the eye test, although the box language shows about as much humility as Terrell Owens in the prime of his career. The actual sandwich doesn’t exactly match up to the photo, but a heaping and hot (so hot, it’s even smokin’) portion of turkey shows up under a restrained glob of mayonnaise and thick, black-pepper bacon.

There’s more than enough fresh leaf lettuce and juicy red tomatoes to let you know there was some effort put into making the sandwich, while another layer of mayo anchors the the insides to the Harvest Wheat bun. Only problem? That would be the Swiss Cheese. As in, where the heck is it?
 

After some poking around I noticed a not-really-melted slice of (unfortunately) hole-less Swiss was under the shaved Turkey breast. It’s an interesting construct that allows some of the cheese to melt (eventually) but the portion seemed rather skimpy to me. All can be forgiven with taste, however, and at nearly the price of a $5 footlong, you can bet it ought to be.

The thing is, it wasn’t. Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty to like about the sandwich. The bacon and Swiss cheese both contribute a mild smoke flavor, with the former adding a peppery kick and subtle crunch, while the latter contributing a milky taste and bit of needed fat. I really like Arby’s bacon, which contains the perfect ratio of meaty crunch and chewy fat to be the end-all, be-all of what you want from a pig.

But the turkey, moist as it was, is singularly salty. How salty, exactly? Tough to say knowing we all perceive sodium differently, but I estimate it about halfway between raising your blood pressure and adding to the physical properties of the Dead Sea. I was hoping the Harvest Wheat roll would add a nice and wholesome sweet balance along with the tomatoes and lettuce, but they all seemed drowned out by the salty flavor. The mayo helps add a little tang to balance things out, but it too seems bland and just serves to tack on calories.
 
There are other missteps, as well. The roll has good flavor on its own, but it comes off as stale, while the subtle honey sweetness isn’t discernible when taking a complete bite. The toasting seems awkward in this application. While the cheese, unevenly melted, plays an odd and unwelcome second fiddle to the watery crunch of the lettuce.

Taking a look at Arby’s Grand Turkey Club Roaster is like taking a look at a masterpiece of taste but eating the watercolor portrait I painted of myself in second year high school art. Structurally, it’s more than sound, but it’s not going to make any one’s regular lunch rotation any more than that painting of smiling Adam will ever find its way out of my grandparents’ house. It’s just too salty and too bland to warrant the high price, failing to deliver a complete taste for what are individually tasty ingredients. Lacking that “X factor” so many of the best fast food sandwiches seem to have, it’s hardly the greatest thing since sliced beef, and no match for Arby’s much better Angus sandwiches.
 

(Nutrition Facts – 490 calories, 220 calories from fat, 24 grams of fat, 8 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams trans fat, 75 milligrams cholesterol, 1440 milligrams of sodium, 38 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of fiber, 8 grams sugar, and 29 grams of protein.)

Item: Arby’s Grand Turkey Club Turkey Roaster
Purchased Price: $4.75
Size: 233 grams
Purchased at: Arby’s
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Better than Buddig quality roast turkey.  Bacon is meaty, smoky, and black peppery. Swiss cheese and mild smoke flavor and milky richness. Harvest wheat bun has good flavor. Fresh vegetables. Getting your roaster fix on without burning out your eyeballs.
Cons: Salty and bland. Lacking an “X factor” of flavor. Bun was stale. Mayo just adds fat and calories. Unevenly melted Swiss cheese. Needs wider bacon coverage. A bit on the pricey side.

Arby’s is like the middle child of the fast food industry. You’ve got the oldest child, represented by places like McDonald’s, Burger King and Taco Bell. They’ve been around, they’re reliable and you know you can trust them to be there when you need them. Then there’s the baby of the family, that local place that you dote upon – that one little burger joint on Center Street or the musty taqueria that is probably violating at least a half dozen health codes. You tell your friends about them, even show them some pictures, not realizing that they honestly don’t care.

Then there’s Arby’s.

Sure, it’s always hanging around, but its cries for attention go largely ignored. It shuffles its feet, wondering when someone will notice the uniqueness, the ingenuity of its shaved beef sandwiches. It’s even tried other tactics to gain your attention, like its line of Market Fresh sandwiches, which got put on the fridge but was promptly covered up by Wendy’s B+ on her calculus test.

Badly-constructed analogies and sweeping generalizations about a whole nation’s opinion on Arby’s aside, their latest arm-waving “look at me!” creation goes even further, with the limited-edition Steakhouse Sub.

The commercial itself is a sad thing to see: a man is parked literally a few feet away from an actual steakhouse, and then decides to go to Arby’s instead. He is already at a steakhouse that serves real steak. I believe he describes Arby’s new sandwich as a “steakhouse dream,” but by then my brain had already exited my skull, carrying a bindle and sticking its thumb out in a desperate attempt to get as far away from my television as possible, so don’t quote me on that.

What exactly makes this sandwich such a “dream?” According to Arby’s, “When you’re craving that big Steakhouse taste, this sub delivers. We piled our classic, thinly sliced roast beef with melted Swiss cheese and crispy onions on a toasted ciabatta roll and topped it all off with our zesty cracked peppercorn sauce.”

If you’ve never had an Arby’s roast beef sandwich before, imagine the roast beef being a notch or two above the packet of Carl Buddig “Beef” that your mom used to pack in your lunch for school. Or was that just my mom?

Great, yet another childhood trauma I’ll have to bring up with my therapist at our next appointment. Anyway, Arby’s roast beef is thinly sliced, quite salty, and if you try really hard, you can even detect a vague taste of beef. But that’s about all you’re going to get out of it.

The onions added zero flavor or texture to the sandwich. Arby’s claims they are “crispy onions.” Mine were anything but. I ate some of the stragglers on my plate that had escaped from the Steakhouse Sub, and they were soggy, tough and chewy. It’s like they took a can of French’s French Fried Onions and let them sit in a deep frier for half an hour.

The sauce was actually quite nice on its own; I would even venture to agree with Arby’s claims of it being “zesty.” Much like the onions, it seemed to get swallowed up by the rest of the sandwich and I couldn’t really taste it unless my tongue was in direct contact with the sauced bun. I went to check out the ingredient list and there must have been 50 of them in the sauce alone, but I think the inclusion of steak sauce was probably what gave it a little zing. Or it could have been the disodium inosinate. Who can tell?

Part of the reason I couldn’t feel the chewy texture of the onions was that the ciabatta roll itself was overly chewy. Taking a bite of the Steakhouse Sub felt a bit like I was a puppy wrestling with a rope toy; to tear through the bread, I had to whip my head back and forth with my teeth firmly dug into the bun. I may have even growled once or twice, I’m not entirely sure.

Okay, so it wasn’t that bad, but I do think that the bread-to-fillings ratio was tipped too heavily in the former’s favor, especially when it came to the sauce and the onions. I got a few bites where I could taste a little zip from the sauce, but the onions added nothing, and most bites were just a mouthful of bread and some mildly beefy-tasting slices of meat.

If Arby’s thinks their Steakhouse Sub is something that’s going to lure someone already at a steakhouse to their nearest Arby’s drive-thru, they need to head out to a Black Angus Steakhouse and do a little R&D. The fact that I’m using Black Angus as my example of a steakhouse taste they should emulate should speak volumes in and of itself.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 sandwich (268 grams) – 750 calories, 360 calories from fat, 40 grams of total fat, 10 grams of saturated fat, 1 gram of trans fat, 70 milligrams of cholesterol, 1,970 milligrams of sodium, 67 grams of carbohydrates, 3 grams of dietary fiber, 3 grams of sugars, 30 grams of protein, 4% vitamin A, 4% vitamin C, 15% calcium and 20% iron.)

Item: Arby’s Steakhouse Sub

Price: $2.99

Size: 1 sandwich

Purchased at: Arby’s

Rating: 3 out of 10

Pros: Cracked peppercorn sauce was zesty, if you licked the bun. Actual steakhouses. Fair-sized sandwich for the price. Hobo bindles. Making sweeping generalizations about other people’s opinions.

Cons: Too much chewy ciabatta drowning out other flavors. Tough, un-crisp onions. Being the middle child. Arby’s roast beef in general. Playing tug-of-war with my lunch. Carl Buddig.

Arby’s is one of those places I continually forget still exists, like Radio Shack, The Disney Store, Hard Rock Cafe and Planet Hollywood.

Maybe it’s because Arby’s isn’t like other fast food places. They don’t inundate me with weird Burger King ads from advertising superpower Crispin Porter + Bogusky or McDonald’s commercials that make it seem cool to eat saturated fat and sodium. But every so often Arby’s comes up with a product that slaps me across the face and jogs my memory of them. Their new Bacon Cheddar Roastburger was the hand that bitchslapped some recollection into me.

The Bacon Cheddar Roastburger is made up of thinly sliced, oven roasted beef, pepper bacon, a slice of cheddar cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and red onions in between a special roll. I’m not too sure what’s so special about the roll, but it might be that fact that it contains trans fat, as you can see in the image below.

Something else that’s disturbing about the Arby’s Bacon Cheddar Roastburger is the use of “chargrilled seasoning,” which you can see in the image above. I think it should get a chargrilled flavor from chargrilling, but apparently there’s an easier way to get it.

I enjoy Arby’s Beef ‘n Cheddar and the Bacon Cheddar Roastburger is basically a Beef ‘n Cheddar with vegetables, bacon, a higher price and, according to my computer’s spellcheck, a made up compound word. Unfortunately I don’t think it comes close to tasting as delicious as a Beef ‘n Cheddar. It was a decent size and had an ample amount of roasted beef, but it was bland and dry.

It didn’t come with a sauce, so I guess it depended on that chargrilled seasoning for flavor. Thank Buddha for Arby and Horsey Sauces, which made finishing the Arby’s Bacon Cheddar Roastburger much easier.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 burger – 442 calories, 18 grams of fat, 8 grams of saturated fat, 1 grams of trans fat, 57 milligrams of cholesterol, 1427 milligrams of sodium, 44 grams of carbs, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 6 grams of sugar and 23 grams of protein.)

(Note: The folks at Grub Grade reviewed all three Roastburger varieties. Here’s a review of the All-American Roastburger. And here’s another review for the Bacon Cheddar Roastburger.)

Item: Arby’s Bacon Cheddar Roastburger
Price: $6.97 (combo meal)
Size: Regular meal
Purchased at: Arby’s
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Decent sized burger. Lots of roasted beef. Contains vegetables. Arby Sauce and Horsey Sauce. Arby’s doesn’t have irritating commercials like other fast food joints.
Cons: Bland and dry. Disappointing. No sauce. High in sodium. Contains trans fat. Being bitchslapped by a burger.