I'd been contemplating it for weeks... months, even. Trying to reconcile the part of my brain that said "this is one of the most ridiculous endeavours in human history" with the part of my brain that said "yes, but I want one". I held out for as long as I could, nose turned snobbily up at those who couldn't resist. But on Friday, there it was. And I was weak.
I ordered a Baconator.
It's not my fault! I was hungry and disoriented. I was on my way to Toronto on Friday to play a show with Nich Worby and company, and we stopped for dinner at a rest stop along the 401 on the way there. I didn't have any other choice!
Ok, that's a lie, there was a Mr. Sub.
Regardless of sub availability, I queued up in the Wendy's line. Before I even looked at the menu, my heart knew it was time. My palms were a little sweaty, and my heart rate increased by a few beats as the person in front of me stepped aside, and I approached the till.
"I'll have a..." I started, then paused, looked nervously over my shoulder, and leaned in.
"Baconator", I whispered. I felt a little dirty saying it out loud.
The cashier punched in my order with the steady hand of someone who makes a living handing out trayfulls of pure, unfiltered consumer insanity on a daily basis. I, on the other hand, was having a hard time not giggling.
I got my tray, and picked it up. It sagged on the Baconator side. I paused to get a firmer grip, and hauled it over to a table. I hastily unwrapped it. Here is an approximation of the sight that greeted me.
Oh dear God, what had I gotten myself into?
At this point, I was glad this act wasn't premeditated. If it was, I probably would have looked up the nutrition information and found out that a single Baconator is home to 840 Calories and 51 grams of fat (and, interestingly enough, 25% of your RDI of calcium). Throwing caution to the wind, I dove in.
The verdict? It is exactly what it claims to be. A giant mass of beef and bacon, bonded together with heavily processed American cheese, and enough sodium to kill a horse. The bun is a technicality. In most situations, this monstrosity could only generously be referred to as real food. But every once in a while, even the best of us craves a fast food fix, and in situations like that, the Baconator can obliterate your meat craving like few other foods.
Overall, I would give it 4.5 out of 5 bypasses.
2 comments:
WOW you did it. I've been flirting with the idea of eating a Baconator for some time now but I've been too terrified. And this is coming from a guy who eats poutine as a 'snack'.
But its the 6 pieces of bacon with no vegetable counterpart s that threw me off. At least when you're mowing down a Big Bacon Classic the lettuce and tomato give you that illusion of health and freshness that you need to take in all that bacon, cheese, and beef-style patty.
But the Baconator provides no such comfort. Instead, like a slap in the face, they recently introduced the "Spicy Baconator" which features several jalepenos spinkled gingerly on top of the great burger. Such culinary audacity!
I salute your bravery. One day I too will step up and order a Baconator of my own, as if to say to all the scientists, doctors, and dietitians that have relentlessly tried to warn us of the serious health problems that can arise from consuming fast food:
"NO. I don't believe you."
In the Baconator's defense, it does have ketchup, which at some point in the distant past did have some vague relationship to tomatoes, which I believe are either a fruit or vegetable.
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