Tag: Dunkin’ Donuts

7:30 in the morning and fresh from the dusty, diesel-packed streets of the Bowery, I swung into the Dunkin’ Donuts, dodging the heating lamps of hash browns and the baskets of 99 cent danishes. I sought neither the jelly-puffed munchkin nor the swirls in the Butter Pecan Latte. Nay, I came for one thing and one thing alone: a torus-shaped chunk of fried dough topped with an artificially colored marshmallow.

Is it a chicken? A warbler? An artist’s interpretation of a Saffron Finch? Much like the Hero’s Journey to the center of the Tootsie Roll, the world may never know what the true breed the Peep “chickadee” is (then again, I’m not a very good ethnographer). What I do know is that each little plop of Dunkin’s dough is topped with one of these aviary escapees, not to mention being doused in a glaze of sugar and artificial colors, which reminds me of Fruity Pebbles, which reminds me of Childhood Joy. So it stands to conclude that this doughnut is made out of Joy, right?

The doughnut comes out with all the vibrancy of a Lisa Frank commercial and its 21 grams of sugar gives an equally vibrant kick in the pants. As hoped for, the anticipated sugar glaze hits first, tasting of little more than the joy of refined, gritty sugary-ness with a hint of vanilla extract. It’s layered on moderately thick and there’s a little crunch as you bite into the softened glaze as it softens and dissolves into a gritty, sweet mess (the best mess there is). This fructose-laden rainbow-brick-road paves the way as you chomp towards the epicenter that is the Peep. You have the option to eat your Peep as you choose. Just remember: that special feeling that comes with chomping the head of a Peep? No one can take that away from you.

The speed bump in the sugary journey came as I bit into the piece of yeast dough. Dry. Pasty. Stiff. This was not Joy. “Did I come in on a bad morning?” I asked myself. “Is the fryer on the fritz? Has a ill-willed goblin from the 7th dimension taken over the Dunkin’ Donut kitchen? BAH! How do I handle ill-willed goblins? What do they have against doughnuts? And how will I be able to attain a mass-marketed piece of adequately fried dough in light of my incapacity to handle a species I’ve yet to understand?”

These questions were left unanswered as I gnawed my way to the center of the dry piece of bread, each bite bringing only more disappointment. Sure, I always hope for a sugary, dense cake, but even a slightly fresh, modestly moist cake will do. I’ve even been known to take day-old doughnuts and plop them in the microwave to give ‘em a little kick in the fluff. But this? This was overcooked, even cottony, tasting more like stale Wonder Bread. Wonder Bread tossed in sawdust. Combined with the Peep and it was like chomping a slightly stretchy piece of sugar-coated Styrofoam, the little crumbs of dried out cake spewing dried-out shrapnel every which way. Perhaps a slightly denser cake doughnut may have stood the test better? I don’t know, but I fear this one just didn’t cut it for me.

Thankfully, I had a hot chocolate at the ready because what goes better with a bird-shaped marshmallow than a frothy beverage of molten cocoa? I would suggest you consider doing the same: grab yourself a coffee, a Cookie Dough Coolata, whatever joe suits your fancy. While dry on its own, the pastry makes excellent dunking material (this is Dunkin’ after all). The beverage adds a bitter, sharp bite to the sugar onslaught while filling in the nooks of hardened dough with a little bit of moisture and caffeine. You will be happy. Your Peep will be happy. The goblins of the 7th dimension will be happy.

Have a sweet tooth? Or ten? Do all of them crave straight sugar laced with sugar that tastes of sugar on a dry piece of bread? If you answered yes to all of the above, the Peeps doughnut is here for you. While I admire the seasonal charm, the colors threaten to blind your sensitive eyeballs and the dry cake is just blee-blah-bloo. In the future, I’ll steer clear of this one, but again…seasonal. It’s a good idea, DD, but I spoke to the Easter bunny this weekend and he told me he’s looking for a Girl Scout Cookie doughnut to deliver next year. So how ‘bout it Dunkin’: Will you heed the bunny’s call?

(Nutrition Facts – 310 calories, 130 calories from fat, 10 grams of fat, 4.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 340 milligrams of sodium, 39 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 21 grams of sugar, and 3 grams of protein.)

Item: Dunkin’ Donuts Peeps Donut
Purchased Price: $1.09
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Dunkin’ Donuts
Rating: 3 out of 10
Pros: Corn syrup! Fructose! Bright colors! Slight crunch from the glaze. Poofy marshmallow. Stretchy marshmallow. Marshmallow dunked in hot chocolate. Childhood Joy.
Cons: Bright colors may result in blindness. Dry dough. Stale Wonder Bread tossed in sawdust. Still wondering: how many licks to the center of a Tootsie Pop? Goblins of the 7th dimension. Me not being a good ethnographer.

Every few months or so, some poor “high-end” food product makes the jump from pretentious to a diluted all-audience nature. It gets filtered through a wood chipper and then a toilet so in the end it no longer resembles the actual item. All this for the sake of mass consumption. Therefore, not only does it lose its pompous aura (which is fine by me), but its unique characteristics as well (which is not okay at all).

Remember Wendy’s bragging about its fries being sprinkled with sea salt? Give me a break if you’re expecting it to be the actual harvested finishing salts chefs preen about.

Kobe beef, with its already dubious nature in what can actually be called Kobe, is another victim. Kobe hot dogs? Kobe hamburgers? My eyes rolled so much that you would swear I had two lazy eyes or was the inspiration for the guy that graces each Mad Libs cover.

Another example is Kobe beef’s less-complicated, but just as maligned, American cousin, the Angus. This poor bastard is being passed around faster than a cotton towel at an orgy. I’m guessing the “certification” for Angus beef is low enough that even Stephen Hawking can jump over it. Okay, that’s a tasteless cheap shot that’s just as tasteless as the Dunkin’ Donuts Angus Steak Big N’ Toasted.

I commend Dunkin’ Donuts for attempting to separate itself from the pack by using Texas Toast for its sandwiches. The thick bread borders on overindulgence, but is perfect for capturing runny eggs and butter. Some people prefer wheat or pumpernickel, I lust after Texas Toast.

I mean c’mon!!! It’s Texas Toast, steak, eggs and cheese. You know what’s better than sliced bread? Sliced bread with beef, cheese and egg in between it. So what can go wrong? Apparently, if you make a living primarily selling donuts, then a hell of a lot.

Look, I’m a big fan of their Texas Toast Grilled Cheese. Its buttery and flaky toast and melted cheese makes me act like those monkeys in the beginning of 2001: A Space Odyssey.

But stupid me because I was expecting the same from this new sandwich. I opened it immediately to look at this “Angus” steak and it had the natural color of a cadaver stuffed under a house because he didn’t pay his bets on time. It was charmingly grayish and resembled an unsauced Salisbury meatloaf concoction served at all the finest detention centers.

The steak also had an overwhelming artificial smokey taste. The texture itself was flaccid and rubbery, two things I don’t want my meat to feel like. The worst part? The beef was chewy. Not Mentos candy-chewy, but chewy like the bits resting on the bottom of a beef jerky pouch.

The toast had the dampness of a basement, but it was sufficiently buttered. The two eggs only helped in taking your hopes, smashing them, and then pissing on the remains. The eggs were laughably fake looking, like a Fisher Price plastic fried egg toy. Another thing, it had an unnatural powdery texture and lacked any of the richness an egg normally has. It was also mealy and it disintegrated in my mouth into a sandy mush.

Most things can be saved by melted cheese since it provides an extra boost of flavor and texture, which was sorely missing in this sandwich. Unfortunately, there was so little cheese, all I could taste was fake smoke and a bland egg that broke apart into grainy beads in my mouth. It was like a bad French kiss between bread.

I’ve eaten the McDonald’s Angus burgers, so I know fast food “Angus” can be achieved with some success. But it’s as if Dunkin’ Donuts is the fat kid in gym class looking at the rope their meathead teacher is telling them to climb.

Finally, what really kicked me in the balls was the price — $4.29. I haven’t felt this ripped off since I was conned into buying Viagra from Mexico.

(Nutrition Facts – 620 calories, 34 grams of fat, 14 grams of saturated fat, 1 gram of trans fat, 180 milligrams of cholesterol, 1290 milligrams of sodium, 43 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 4 grams of sugar, and 34 grams of protein)

Item: Dunkin’ Donuts Angus Steak Big N’ Toasted Sandwich
Purchased Price: $4.29
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Dunkin’ Donuts
Rating: 3 out of 10
Pros: Texas Toast. Having the option to buy a donut instead. 2001: A Space Odyssey. Sufficiently buttered toast. Soft drinks from Mexico.
Cons: Texas Toast. Artificial smoke flavor. Rubbery grey beef. 2010: The Year We Make Contact. The powdery egg that looks fake. Small amount of cheese. Pharmaceuticals from Mexico.

Since starting at The Impulsive Buy, I’ve reviewed three new Dunkin’ Donuts products, none of which I was, um, all that crazy about. I fully intend, however, to continue reviewing their products because DD keeps introducing distinctive new items that pique my interest. (I suppose it also doesn’t hurt that there’s a Dunkin’ Donuts right across the street from my apartment and I’m too lazy to walk any farther to pick up other review items.) Their latest offering is the new Chicken Salad Sandwich.

After doing a limited rollout in the greater New York area a few months back, Dunkin’ Donuts has recently undertaken a broader release of the Chicken Salad Sandwich. I’m guessing the chicken salad is being marketed alongside the tuna salad to re-confuse Jessica Simpson about what exactly Chicken of the Sea is; similarly, I am making a Jessica Simpson joke to confuse any people who don’t remember their reality TV news from 2003.

I ordered my Chicken Salad Sandwich on a croissant and without cheese, just as it’s depicted in all the ads. At first glance, it looked like I probably could’ve asked for a Mayonnaise Sandwich with Some Chicken or Whatever Miscellaneous Meat You Have Back There, and I would’ve gotten more or less the same thing. Even good chicken salads aren’t particularly pleasing aesthetically, so I couldn’t judge the sandwich strictly on appearance.

Unfortunately, the experience of actually eating the chicken salad wasn’t any better. The chunks of chicken were relatively sizable and plentiful, but they tasted very bland and were completely overpowered by the presence of the mayonnaise. The celery pieces added some much needed crunch to the texture of the chicken salad, yet there weren’t enough pieces to prevent the overall sandwich from being too mushy. The croissant was the same type Dunkin’ Donuts uses for their regular breakfast sandwiches, but this sandwich is served cold so my croissant was un-toasted and lacking in its customary flakiness.

As for the mayonnaise… well, the nicest thing I can say is that at least the mayo doesn’t suffer from both conditions of the famous Woody Allen quote “Boy the food at this place is really terrible.” “Yeah, I know, and such small portions!”  The mayo is definitely odd-tasting, and there’s plenty of it. At first it tasted jarringly sweet, and although each bite got me a bit more acclimated to the mayo’s sweetness, the blandness of the chicken and celery and the absence of any more ingredients meant the chicken salad just didn’t have any other flavors worth detecting. Additionally, more of the excess mayonnaise got squeezed out the sides of the sandwich with each bite, so the whole eating process was much messier than it really had to be.

The Chicken Salad Sandwich was altogether pretty bad. Once again, I would recommend you skip Dunkin’ Donuts’ latest offering. That being said, I appreciate their efforts in steadily introducing new products that are true departures from their regular menu and not just a re-packaging and re-naming of existing ingredients and items. (I’m looking at you, Taco Bell. I hope you know I ate that Beefy Melt Burrito because I was drunk and it was 99 cents, not because I thought you had something new and worth trying.) So Dunkin’ Donuts, stay the course and just keep coming out with different products, and I will keep trying them until that day comes when I can write a positive review on a new item I actually enjoy. (Or until I move into a new apartment, whichever comes first.)

(Nutrition Facts – 1 sandwich on croissant – 560 calories, 340 calories from fat, 37 grams of fat, 10 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 45 milligrams of cholesterol, 890 milligrams of cholesterol, 38 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of fiber, 6 grams of sugar, 17 grams of protein, 2% vitamin A, 2% vitamin C, 4% calcium, and 15% iron.)

Other Dunkin’ Donuts Chicken Salad Sandwich reviews:
Foodette Reviews

Item: Dunkin’ Donuts Chicken Salad Sandwich
Price: $2.99
Size: 1 sandwich
Purchased at: Dunkin’ Donuts
Rating: 3 out of 10
Pros: Chicken was sizable and plentiful. Celery added good crunch. Dunkin’ Donuts’ willingness to introduce actual new products. Having a Dunkin’ Donuts right across the street from my apartment. Annie Hall. Drunk-eating Taco Bell.
Cons: Chicken was bland. Not enough celery. Too much mayonnaise. Jarringly sweet mayonnaise. Croissant wasn’t toasted. Sandwich got messy. Drunk-eating Taco Bell.