So really, I have nothing much to write about tonight, but when has that stopped me from rambling in the past?
Exactly never times.
But what I really have weighing heavily on my mind tonight is the simple fact that yesterday I read on the news (as opposed to watching the news, because when can I get the TV channel turned away from the nonstop Avalanche games at our house?) that Burger King has up and changed their fry recipe. Apparently, their French fries are now thicker.
And, people, let’s go there.
Sadly, I will admit that I am not ashamed to whip the Suburban through a drive-thru and secure hot cheeseburgers dripping with grease and sodium and toxins for our family’s dinner. I think that I SHOULD feel some shame, and I’m really trying to work some up, but I can’t produce shame on demand like that.
Do y’all watch the TV sitcom The Middle?
(It’s our new favorite at this house.)
(Give yourself bonus points if you just read that last, long and drawn-out word like Brick, whispering into his T-shirt.)
Anyway, I am the mom from The Middle. Frankie Heck’s best recipe is the one from the drive-thru, and she bakes up a mean frozen Sarah Lee apple pie any day of the week. In one episode, she handed a box containing a frozen pie to her teenage daughter and explained that it was the holiday pie recipe her mother had passed down to her, and now Frankie was passing it down to HER daughter, Sue.
(Although, on a side note, I will say that Jimmy John’s has replaced our drive-thru days. McDonald’s has become a distant memory for us. There’s nothing on a fast food menu anywhere that screams out DELICIOUS like Jimmy John’s can scream.)
(Unless it’s Starbucks, and let’s be honest: I’d rather drink my dinner from Starbucks than eat just about anything else.)
(Unless Hubs’ is grilling, of course. Hubs needs to be on his own reality TV show. I’d call it When Computer Geeks Grill. It would be about guys who understand wires and motherboards and old DOS commands, and then they come home and whip up a marinade from scratch and smoke something on the Traeger at 275 for several hours, so all their wives have to do is microwave some Brussels sprouts as an accompaniment.)
We were going there, and there is where I simply say that the food offered by Burger King isn’t something I would consciously feed to my herd, if I was a pig farmer. Burger King and I are not friends. Burger King and Hubs are not friends. Burger King and the boy ARE friends, but we squash the friendship and tell him that his parents don’t approve. And, because we’re the only ones in the family with driver’s licenses, the boy never gets a Whopper Junior.
And then there are the fries from BK. The fries, before yesterday. Dare I say that they were globs of tasteless, oily, dough-like bits of undercooked carbohydrates? And that’s just me speaking from the memory, because I haven’t willingly eaten a fry from Burger King in at least two entire years.
And the sad thing is simply this: I do love a good French fry with extra ketchup. But at Burger King, I cannot even look at the fries without my tongue swelling up in disgust.
And now, the thought of having a THICKER tasteless, oily, dough-like blob to chew makes me wonder about the mastermind behind the switch. Burger King also claimed in their news release yesterday that “they’ve added a coating to the thicker fries, which will keep them hotter longer.”
Is that something found in nature, or generated in a lab by people in white coats with nutrition degrees?
Can we use that at home?
“Listen, Hubs. I knew you’d be a bit late for dinner tonight, so I just sprayed a coating over your plate, and look! It’s been maintaining it’s hot temperature for three hours now, and I couldn’t be happier. Of course, the coating that I sprayed on your dinner probably causes cancer and memory loss, not to mention muscle degeneration, possible blindness, ear aches, the desire to cheer for the Detroit Red Wings and heartburn, but at least your meatloaf is HOT!”
(I just said meatloaf.)
(I only make one of those every year for Hubs, even though Hubs and the boy both LOVE them a good meatloaf. Squishing raw hamburger with raw eggs with my bare hands makes me cringe and sends the non-good kind of goosebumps down my spine.)
(Squishing raw hamburger barehanded comes right after TOUCHING BONES on my list of EXTREME HATES.)
(Hubs has to de-bone every turkey and chicken in our house. I can’t even be present for the de-boning. And T-Bone steaks? Oh, people! I cannot even have those on my plate! A bone-in ham? You won’t see one come out of the oven in my kitchen. Hot wings? I cannot touch them, let alone eat them at a good tailgate party. Drumsticks? I’d rather throw a fork through my eye than hold one in my hand. It’s why I don’t hunt, people. I mean, other than the whole DEAD ANIMALS FREAK ME OUT and I CANNOT SHOOT A BULLET THROUGH ANY LIVING THING issues, I could never deal with the BONES in the dead animal.)
(Fingers crossed that the boy never falls out of a tree and busts an arm. If that sucker pops through the skin, I’ll faint, johnny-on-the-spot.)
Anyway, I know that y’all found this post riveting, and filled with VERY USEFUL INFORMATION, but I did have to put my two-cents in on the thicker fries from Burger King issue.
I simply wish that Jimmy John’s would pick up the white glove of competition that’s been thrown down on the sidewalk and produce THICKER BREAD.
Have a happy Wednesday night, people.