the alfmeister

a figment of reality's imagination

Archive for the tag “burger”

The Destruction of The Twin Towers (gastronomically speaking)…


Official Report, 7 February, 2014 1928hrs;

Suspect entered the premises through front door in company with unidentified accomplice. Both were dressed casually, and at first inspection it would be deemed that there was nothing particularly threatening about them, however the well-built of the two was strikingly handsome which was the first indication there might be some problems – no one in their right mind can be that good-looking.

As they chatted to the teller it was apparent that the two were intoxicated, beer being the obvious substance due to vapors prominent in the closed confines of the restaurant. On scouting the area it was noted there was a bar of ill-repute right across the street and subsequent investigation indicated the suspects had been on site for some hours, quite possibly planning this attack.

After initially speaking to the young girl the manager was called out front to deal with whatever request had been made, and after considerable confusion come utter chaos as all staff members present were frantically dealing with their demands. While it was still not clear to me what their intentions were, the cash register did show a total of $75.40 demanded and authorities were alerted.

When the ‘booty’ was handed over there was an audible gasp from other patrons as it was now clear that something inhumane was taking place and there could be fallout. The two suspects made their way to a table far enough removed from everyone else and the attack began. The good-looking fellow seemed oblivious to the world around him as he remained focus on his planned attack, however his side kick may well have been having second thoughts as he could not concentrate on the task at hand, and was actually witnessed to have pulled out of what proved to be a futile exercise. The leader, however, was focussed and completed the annihilation in a time unofficially noted as being less than 20mins. With little fanfare of regard for their del;low human beings, they both left, the victor savoring a litre of Coke and Raspberry through a straw. On closer inspection of the damage their was no visible trace that anything had actually taken place; forensic evidence taken from the scene indicated this was a thorough and highly professional job and nothing of note could be lifted.

Case Unsolved; target at large.

Official Report, 14 February, 2014, 2132hrs.

In what proved to be a cunning attempt at flaunting their crime in front of authorities, both suspects re-entered the premises a week later than above, the irony of the date not lost on all present; The Valentine’s Day Massacre was a thing of folk-lore, however authorities alerted to the unfolding scenario were clear on one thing, this would be worse, with collateral damage.

Some staff immediately recognised the attractive man, and maybe in an effort to appease him spoke openly and with outward happiness which seemed to soothe the savage beast. Unlike the previous instance where confusion was dominant, the staff were obviously well-equipped this time round and quickly and efficiently had the task completed. Quite possibly as a result of the debacle the week before, the second person had somewhat distanced himself from the goal and had settled into a minor role on the act playing out before all and sundry.

The handsome male (did we mention how good-looking he was?) seemed intent on having his sick fantasy recorded for prosperity as the manager, now a guest in his presence videoed the entire spectacle from her smart device while the accomplice timed the affair on his.

In a blur, akin to a pack of sharks feeding on a carcass, the target was destroyed, obliterated from the annals of history to be nothing more than a mere memory, another yet forgotten victim of circumstance. It was both ugly and beautiful to behold, this slight frame of a person, possessing movie-star looks defied all laws of physics, biology, and human dignity to eliminate the target in less than nine minutes. He was coolly observed to have noted to all within earshot that he was attempting a sub-five minute attempt, however within the first few stages of the act manage to take some serious body shots; tongue, lip, and inner cheek showing battle scars which obviously slowed his progress.

And then they were no more, leaving in the same openly loud and obnoxious manner in which they had announced themselves. Those witness to it will recall the story for years to come, medical authorities will no doubt dissect this unnatural phenomenon, and insurance agents will rip up all paperwork.

Case Open; target still at large, considered highly dangerous in food circles yet so handsome.

Post Script; the record for consumption is held by a Canadian operative in the unbelievable time of 1min 19secs. In NZ it sits at a yet unconfirmed 6mins.

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Eat Shit and Die; KFC’s Mexican ‘offering’…


When I was younger, my older brother once farted on my head just at that point where I breathed in...this burger tasted worse...

When I was younger, my older brother once farted on my head just at that point where I breathed in…this burger tasted worse…

And by offering, I mean some sort of Pagan-esque sacrificial lamb, and by lamb I mean chicken (at least I think it was chicken), and by chicken, I mean something crumbed somewhat attempting to resemble a chicken (albeit minus wings, legs, beak and ‘cluck’) yet had the taste and complexion of a sun-dried inner tube left to marinate in a sespool of rancid cow’s piss…

What? No idea, but it was advertised as the Mexican Zinger Burger…

Where? KFC Rangiora…

When? When I come out of this gastro-influenced coma I will endeavour to remember. But it was sometime after work last week, and sometime before violently scratching the back of my throat with my fingers in an effort to extricate whatever had crawled in there and died…

Coin? All things considered (it being a combo), too much. In fact, I would expect to be paid to eat it next time…

Pros? The Mountain Dew, and I bloody well hate Mountain Dew…oh, and the hot blonde behind the counter (who unfortunately didn’t serve me)…

Cons? Everything including the shit-arsed fries (which used to be a KFC speciality), the cold burger, the soggy corn chips layered to give an air of Tijuana but felt more like a mouthful of wet bark, and the cost, which per square inch is more than Auckland property.

 

And herein ends the lesson….

Carb-loading with a side order of heart-attack…


Those that know me will attest to this statement; I would take the burger before Heidi. I know, I need help...

Those that know me will attest to this statement; I would take the burger before Heidi. I know, I need help…

Regular followers with nothing better in their lives to do will remember posts of past referring to the new up-start in the fast-food race here in New Zealand – Carl’s Jnr – when their ads were deemed irresponsible and degrading. Well, as one who finds it hard to let go of something, I will refer to that a little later on in this piece…

…so it was with saliva-dripping anticipation that I finally found myself with some time up my sleeve to sample their wares before flying back home, and I did so in the true heart of Auckland’s obesity population, Walking into the restaurant two things stood out; the cleanliness of the place, and how quiet it was. Sure, it was 2 in the afternoon, rather late for lunch, however if McDonald’s and KFC have shown me anything, fast food is a 24hr a day fix so Carl’s must be disappointed that their target demographic of he morbidly obese is falling short of the mark.

The young lady who greeted me and ultimately took my order was a pretty wee thing, however she never, ever, at any point, not in a million years, way off the mark, in fact the mark was but a blip on the distant horizon, look anything remotely close to the girls featured in the advert. She did however look considerably better looking, and in better condition than the majority of those, me included, eating there at that point. But then, that wouldn’t have been hard even for Roseanne Barr.

It seemed only fair that I wrap my laughing gear around the feature burger of the day, the Jim Beam ® Bourbon Burger, a montage of healthy greens and dairy produce slam dunked between patties, bacon, buns and a thick black sauce. Yep, looked like just the tonic to fix what ailed me. In a slip from my usual attention to detail, I fail to remember what the actual burger was called; there was a ‘single’ (yeah, right) and two other upsizes to the burger itself. It goes without saying that I risked life and limb to report to you effectively that I ordered the big bastard, of course, and also took a punt and went with the combo, a knowing nod from the girl telling me that there was no need to ask what size combo. I barely waited a nano-second before she pointed out that I was not required to stand there like a rabbit in the headlights as a number was thrust into my paw and was asked to sit down to wait for my meal to be brought to me…well buggar me! Not that I mind standing there checking out the hotties and judging the fatties, it was a somewhat surreal feeling being served hand and foot by someone who probably earns less than the cost of the burger each day…still, a nice touch Carl, don’t lose it. While on the staff, the other noticeable difference to everywhere was that the average weight of the staff looked to be well under my own weight. Whether this is company policy, or a lack of foresight on management (“never trust a skinny chef”) is not for me to speculate, but knowing that some lard-arsed, sweaty kid (think that Indian guy on the last Masterchef) is prepping my meal is not my ideal lead in to a feed.

The food was served to me by the same, smiling girl who took my order, her face not indicating what they had ‘done’ to my burger backstage, and as the picture shows the meal did look substantial. Shit, even the drink alone was a meal in itself, the only other instance (short of going to The States) I have had a non-alcoholic drink that size was the infamous ‘alfmeiseter vs. Wendy’s Quad’.

When compared to previously devoured burgers, this is The Mona Lisa....

When compared to previously devoured burgers, this is The Mona Lisa….

To the keen observer the fries look interesting and immediately got my attention. Just like my dad used to make (“all the goodness is in the skin, son”) I couldn’t help but be drawn to them and I cannot remember a time where I had eaten anything before properly ‘laying everything out’ to savour before eating. More in a sec…

Opening the box, which was big enough to bury a dwarf in, the burger, while not touching the sides definitely was sizeable, however, like every other bastard food chain the harsh reality was very far removed from the theory. That said and done, as burgers go, it sort of looked like the ads, had the feel and weight of a quality burger, and showed no hint of off-color lettuce of soggy bun.

But, and many a woman is testament to this, what you see and what you expect can be entirely different things, and it was with hinge-attached jaw that folded back to take the first chomp into that Carl’s burger, with mixed results.

The burger is nice….not startling, not memorable as such, not inspiring, not ‘bring me more’, but good. The meat pattie was dry and tasteless with only the sauce providing any real indication that this was a meat burger. The buns were great, as were the obligatory fillings, but if one thing stood out, it was the layer of onion crisps piled on top. Now, if for nothing else you should try this burger. These are heaven-sent (and I’m an atheist), crunchy to the bite there can be nothing more satisfying to the palate than crispness, and as one chewed more and more, the burger became tasty, even fun to eat. Yep, first impressions last, but finer dissection lasts forever.

Alongside the burger sat those fries, beckoning me to relive my youth as dad used to deep fry skinned chips for dinner with homekill chops and sausages of every variety. There is a new king in town! I have never, and mean never, had better tasting fries than Carl’s. KFC, when they get it right (in the old days, when their salting was more than just a complimentary wave of the shaker) ruled, but Carl’s can make a living alone and have a determined following based on these fine morsels of taste. Get out there and order some…

It boggles the mind that I am still prepared to line my stomach with something that looks like an uncleaned 'gutted hedgehog'...still...

It boggles the mind that I am still prepared to line my stomach with something that looks like an uncleaned ‘gutted hedgehog’…still…

Carl’s will be a contender if the lazy and habitual are prepared to change. For the same money as McD’s and BK’s combos, and cheaper than KFC’s, Carl’s have the beginnings of making a real fist of the burger experience…however, one swallow does a blow job not make, or something to that effect, and in the interest of all that is fair and equal I will allow myself to be dragged, kicking and screaming back into a restaurant to try again…and again, and no doubt again and again.

Thanks Carl’s, it was a pleasure…until next time.

Double time on the Double Down…


Me, sans shirt, sitting in KFC eating my burger...note hankie on my head to wipe my brow.

Me, sans shirt, sitting in KFC eating my burger…note hankie on my head to wipe my brow.

It was almost two years ago to the day when my wife and I got sucked into the media hype of KFC’s Double Down Burger which at the time I thought was OK, as a one-off provided you had a signed permission slip from your Doctor alongside an updated insurance policy. So when a fellow Tweeter spoke of wolfing down KFC’s reincarnation of it I had no choice but to hunt one down and check if time has done it any better or worse.

Not by coincidence I found myself sitting in Papanui’s House of Cholesterol which bode a bad sign; the place looked no different from it did all that time ago; by that I mean it looked shitty. And by shitty I mean you can feel the fat and grease coating you as you walk in the door. I’m sorry, but the place would have been done a favour had the earthquakes leveled it, but unfortunately through economics, or based on the local population, KFC saw no fit reason to match their competitors in redressing and rebranding their restaurants.

So after ordering my combo meal ($11.40 for the Zinger Double Down, small chips and orange Mountain Dew) I hesitatingly sat down at a table in a dining hall that was only shared by one other; a forlorn looking woman who looked like she had lost her battle of the bulge as she munched back a tray-load of food which still looked like it wouldn’t be enough.

*it is important to note here that I did not get the ‘standard’ Double Down as they had run out of (or maybe it had just plain run out on its own) some chilli sauce offering, but was duly offered extra ‘Supercharger’, being some attempt at adding spice*

Opening the wrapper, and immediately getting said Supercharger over my hands and onto my jeans, the first thing you note is that it isn’t a big meal which makes the $8-odd a hefty price to pay for two bits of chicken that maybe cost KFC about $1 total. But, and as memory serves me, it looked more appetising than the one I had years back, even though the sauce has the look, color and consistency of week-old cum…

Double Down, don;t mock me...*images in photo may appear larger than they actually are*

Double Down, don’t mock me…*images in photo may appear larger than they actually are*

…but from the first bite, I was impressed! It might have been the spicy sauce (I love a kick in my food) paired with the Zinger flavouring but it took less than half the time of my Twitter colleague before I was hungrily licking my fingers and the wrapper for remnants that tried to escape in vain. The chicken was cooked to within an inch of perfection, something Simon Gault would have been proud of, the bacon also. And unlike the first attempt, the ‘burger’ did not fall apart in my hands, so I’m guessing some sort of Gorilla Bond Glue may have been mixed in. And while I treat fast-food chain’s attempts of ‘hot & spicy’, and I love it hot enough to make soft-drink vaporize on my tongue, it had as good level of ‘pow’.

Hours later, supping back a beer (or two) I was aware of another plus with the Double Down; unlike its predecessor, and most other fast food burgers, it hadn’t sat in the bottom of my gut like a cement/snot combo, threatening to tear me a second arsehole the following morning.

Yep, KFC, despite all attempts to do otherwise, you have hit a home run with this one…and as I am a true believer in playing on a level field, I feel I  must head back to another restaurant and sample your wares again…just to be sure.

Now, why the hell don;t we have this one Down Under!!!??? Try me, I’m Iron(gut) Man…

Variety is the spice of life…or is it? Burger Review…


How they think it looks when it comes to you...

How they think it looks when it comes to you…

Shit…I made a vow not to enter the ‘Big Three’ ever again due to what I believed was a blatant disregard for the Fair Trading Act, i.e. what they told us we were getting was a fair distance from reality. Isn’t it enough we get this from our politicians?

If there’s two things in selling food that are like a red rag to a bull, its words like ‘big’ and ‘hot’…I use these words often with my wife, which in itself may be open to interpretation if either apply in reality. So Macca’s sucked me in, held out the pot at the end of the rainbow, promised redemption in a promised land, and offered me the chance for salvation in the form of their new Peri Peri Scorcher burger…normally it is a burger that wouldn’t get me excited, chicken is best served in Chinese takeaways, but they used the word ‘hot’ and claimed it was ‘pretty hot’. Further to that, to over emphasise the claim, the use of ‘Scorcher” in the name itself was only asking for trouble…

Now use of the word ‘pretty’ in itself is a subjective term, I have met plenty of ‘pretty’ girls who had a face that looked like a Bulldog that swallowed a wasp, but to couple it with ‘hot’ was only daring me to come out of hiding and get back into the fold of the morbidly obese.

As I have been burnt so many times by McDonald’s in the past (no pun intended) I decided to order two such burgers this time as I hadn’t eaten since the previous evening and wouldn’t be for some time, so having 1000+ calories sitting heavy in the bottom of my well-adjusted gut, like plutonium rods, seemed a good idea at the time. The burgers, admittedly, looked pleasant enough, and as far as burgers go had a closer resemblance to the adverts than many before them. However the chicken, looking larger than it was in buns smaller than breakfast croissants, looked (and ultimately tasted) drier than an 80-year old whore, eating pretzels in the middle of a Canterbury Nor’Wester. This aside, it wasn’t so much the feast I was testing here (which was merely, and barely, OK) it was the claim of being ‘pretty hot’. The first Read more…

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