It isn’t much of a secret that I love fast food. Particularly burgers.
I practically live off the stuff which will one day come back to haunt me however till then, I shall devour as much of it as possible.
A few months ago, McDonald’s decided to finally bring in the Angus style burgers to Australia. I fell in love with the tasty treat and promptly devoured as many as I could get my hands on. Knowing the Angus meat was quite the rage over in the states I wasn’t surprised that Hungry Jacks released one given that their franchiser Burger King is believed to be the first major chain to market the burger.
After a brief discussion on Twitter about the burger, I was quickly convinced that it was time that I high tailed it to my local Hungry Jack’s and get my Angus on. No more time to waste. I sped in the direction of the burger like a Cheeky Bingo fan rushes to a bingo hall, or like a shopaholic to the sales. There was no stopping me.
It was a strange morning. The sky was overcast yet the breeze blowing in my face was warm and laced with the scents of fried chicken and grilled meat emanating from the nearby fast food outlets. The store was unusually busy; a queue had already formed consisting of bogans of all shapes and sizes, all smelling like Marlborough Reds. I spotted my meal on the menu board and joined the line. The woman in front of me was in an argument with someone on her mobile, seemingly oblivious to the fact that a child no older than six years old is attached to her right leg and is screaming at the top of her lungs. Yep, I must be in the right place.
After what seemed like an hour, I finally was served. The woman serving barked a question at me that I didn’t quite hear. I pardoned myself and asked her to repeat herself. She just stared at me with her comically large eyes and said nothing. Actually come to think of it, everything about her seemed comically large. She was an Asian lady, possibly in her late 40s and was covered in grease. Considering it was only 10 in the morning, I was rather baffled as to why she looked so unclean. Her face was covered in make-up that looked like it was applied with a shovel. and she had eyes bordered with eyeliner thicker than a stick of hard liquorice and lips resembling those of a Bratz doll. She squawked at me in a high-pitched tone, snapping me out of a daze as I wondered to myself how many cats she lived with. Time for me to place the order, I guess.
I chose a large double Angry Angus burger meal with onion rings and a Sprite. She decided to interpret this as a triple cheeseburger meal with an added serving of onion rings and two diet Cokes. I ended up having to repeat myself twice, finally convincing her that I hadn’t changed my mind as to what I wanted to order. The meal was under $10 and I was told to step aside so she could serve the next person. As soon as I did, she walked away whilst the next person was about to place his order. He looked at me through his glazed stoner eyes and mouthed a “what the fuck?” to me. I smiled and nodded back.
As I waited I noticed the strange assortment of people waiting behind my new found dread-locked hippy friend. Immediately behind him stood an impatient teenage girl wearing thongs, tracksuit pants and faded red shirt with the words “Make me my dinner” printed on the front. She eventually ordered a small fries. Behind her, stood a woman in her 40s wearing cut-off jeans shorts and a Rip Curl shirt. I couldn’t help but notice the words “Ill be yours for ever” tattooed on the inside of her leg. Grammatical errors included. Finally there stood a Japanese couple, adorned with matching safari pants and Nikon cameras around their necks, nattering to each other and pointing excitedly at the menu board.
Ten minutes had passed as I watched the queue get shorter and shorter. A number of staff members came up to me and asked me if I had been served – one staff member asking me twice within the space of two minutes. A manager even came up to the crazy cat woman server, pointed at me and asked her if she “was gonna serve that man or what?”. She just stared at him and he walked off. Eventually she decided to stop serving customers and placed a large empty cup on a tray in front of her.
“Laaaaaaarge drink”, she yelled out and looked around the shop. “Dine-in Spriiiite???”
She repeated this twice then jabbed at her register with her middle finger.
“Dahninauhrtakway?”, she squeaked in my general direction. I looked around and realised she was trying to communicate with me.
“Dahninauhrtakway?”
“Sorry?” I replied.
“Dahnin hour takway sir?” she repeated in a louder tone. “Eat here?”
“Oh right, take away.”
She stared at me for at least three seconds and grabbed the microphone and yelled into it.
“Still waiting for Angus, double and rings.”
I sighed to myself and waited 5 more minutes. Another staff member came up to me, asked me if I was dining in or taking away then gave me my lunch with a forced smile.
As I exited I took another look at the front door just in case it was some mystical shimmering portal to an alternative dimension because I have never in my life experienced such an unusual exchange as I did that morning.
It started to rain on my way home. I choose to blame Hungry Jack’s for that too.
Getting home I unwrapped my meal. Wow, what a disappointment.
Now, I’d like to say yes – I shouldn’t have any sort of expectation when it comes to fast food. It should be greasy, poorly made and quite hazardous to my health however this was just embarrassingly bad.
One of the major selling points of McDonald’s Angus burger range was the taste – it was supposed to taste better than their average burgers. And that it did. There was quite a difference in the taste and texture from an Angus burger to a Big Mac. I’m still a fan of both burgers however I do appreciate them in a different light.
Hungry Jack’s however is a different story. The meat was burnt to a crisp, which is not unusual for their flame grilled style (which I hate with a passion). Because of this, there was no way possible for me to taste the difference between this burger and a whopper with bacon. Oh, there was supposed to be some fancy onion inside the burger I think? I couldn’t taste it at first so I ripped open the offending meal and found a single piece of onion, the size of a 5 cent coin drowning in sauce.
So the verdict is that in my humble opinion, no human should be subjected to this filth that Hungry Jack’s calls a meal. The meal was a violation of taste in every way possible. It was soggy, burnt, tasteless and left a layer of grease on my tongue that refused to wash away after downing a large Sprite followed by a Dr Pepper.
But on the bright side, if I ever want to bomb an establishment to rid as many low life derelicts as possible, I now know where to go.
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// November 17th, 2009 // View Comments // Blog
