His cup runneth over…and then he required alka seltzer…
It was some time back when I chastised and exiled the ‘Big Three’ (McDonald’s, Burger King, Kentucky Fucked Duck) from the menu of my life and thus condemned myself to early retirement as far as fast food went…
…but evil-doing was making a comeback, and from a most unlikely quarter.
The powers-that-be at Wendy’s had long read and heard rumors of a ‘constitutional gut’ that existed in the colonies of the South Pacific and plans were made to create a new weapon of mass-destruction, a food seemingly so benign, so innocent in existence, that surely he, the man with the lead-lined stomach, he of gastronomic super powers, he the majority stakeholder in Purex toilet tissue would be lured back to face pimply-faced teens, malfunctioning EFTPOS machines, and slum-themed public bathrooms…and so they waited…and waited…and waited…
And it happened with such little fanfare that none believed it was true, but when a non-descript Tweet floated the ether from Aussie to New Zealand questioning (in Sasquatch-esque awe) the existence of such a behemoth he came from out of hiding, out of self-imposed isolation, and prepared to do battle once again, in the pursuit of justice, gut-rot, and the risk of diarrhea.
the alfmeister was back, and with a renewed passion and semi-hardened arteries walked, nay strode into Wendy’s in Greenlane, and the conversation went something like this;
- “Can I take your order?”
- “Quad Baconator, please.”
- “Certainly, one Baconator…ummm, did you say ‘Quad Baconator?”
- “Oh….OK….*perspiration starting to show on his pre-pubescent brow*…would you like a Combo?”
- *voice is quavering, he shifts from foot to foot* “Small, or *gulp*…large?”
- “I’ve just ordered a burger with four meat patties, laced with four pieces of bacon…what do you think?!”
- *face is white with fear, mouth is dry, tongue feels like it has swollen to three times it’s normal size* “A…small?”
- “OK, it’s just that no one has ever done a large before…”
- “Sounds like a challenge…thanks.”
As a team of eight, who between them looked like they had never boiled an egg in their life, rushed to prepare the feast, the alfmeister cooly checked his status on Facebook, Twitter, and checked his life insurance policy and will online before being handed a tray that contained not only the pièce de résistance, but a large container of chips and what closely resembled a 44-gallon drum of Coke (no ice)…luckily the alfmeister had guns of steel as mere mortals would have dropped their fare under the sheer weight of booty, but with purpose and conviction he paced to a quiet corner, away from the prying and pity-filled stares of other diners, all keying in 911 on their mobiles and turning on phone cameras in readiness of either a triumph against evil, or the sacrificial slaying of the meek.
Within ten minutes the platter lay bare. The burger itself had given up on life long before, the chips meeting the same fate. Only the Coke showed any survival instinct however it was quickly shuffled outside to face a similar fate…it was carnage. Oh the humanity!
The Quad Baconator lived in a mythological existence, beaten many in its path of colonic destruction, but in a battle of Biblical proportions it seemed as anti-climatic as a Black Cap batting lineup requiring only 150 to win a test. And as if to prove his worth, his being, his awesomeness, the alfmeister soon after slaid (sic) a T-Bone steak sacrificed on a nearby Webber…in the alfmeister, we trust.
- Blue Corner; Wendy’s Quad Baconator – four meat patties, four bacon strips, and a mismatch of nothings between two buns. Easily the largest mass-market burger on the market (in NZ). Large fries (with extra salt), titanic cup of Coke (no ice).
- Red Corner; the alfmeister – 99kg of prime meat and gristle, part human, part In-Sinkerator. Easily the largest lower intestine in humankind, with ego to boot. Iron-clad constitution, to food as Ozzy is to booze and drugs.
Outcome; Knock down in the first round, knock out early in the second. Still reigning Champion of the World, the alfmeister (with non-registerable blood pressure and the heart rate of a Hummingbird, pupils three times the size of his eyeballs and a pitch to his voice like Fran Drescher).
In Memorium; the Quad is pretty bloody good. While the meat patties were overcooked, bordering on nuclear, and the presentation itself looked like it came from the Black Lagoon, the taste and grotesqueness of it is unsurpassed, a masterpiece in delicacy disgustingness. And on this alone it will forever live in the annals of the mind as a true contender. As a person who last ate at Wendy’s some 15 years ago, it hasn’t really changed, and it may well be fifteen years before I grace it’s premises again. But, and this is a promise, and part-challenge as laid down by a colleague, I may take on the challenge of two in a single sitting (sans Combo, of course…I’m not a fucken Kamikaze!).
As per the standard set by the Big Three, misrepresentation of product reigns supreme, and at a mammoth $21.90 NZD it requires a second mortgage to finance…but it must be done, or for you mere mortals, attempted at least. It may not be around for long.
This would be the best, and worst burger I have ever eaten, and while the tried and true Quarter Pounder and Double Whopper (with Cheese) still rates at the top, this concoction has put them to presentable shame. A culinary Mona Lisa to their preschool doodles…
“Si vis Pacem Parabellum”