In theory, Dunkin’ Donuts Sausage Pancake Bites should be a guaranteed win.  What’s there to say?  It’s sausage links wrapped in pancakes with maple syrup added.  If our ancestors had invented these, we would today know very little about the extinct animal once called the “pig.” 

But Dunkin’ Donuts has let me down before.  Not with their pumpkin donuts, of course, those marvelous confections that let you know fall is here and it’s time to bust out the expandable pants.  But let’s be honest, those french toast twists were nothing to write home about.  So approaching this new treat, I was hopeful but cautious, like a shark stalking a seal that might actually be a fat surfer.  Turns out I needn’t have worried.

As you can see from this photograph expertly snapped in a parking lot next to the highway, the bites come wrapped in a paper sleeve of the sort you might use for a medium order of fries.  This is unfortunate because it highlights just how small each individual bite is.  The three you get don’t come close to filling up the bag, each being thicker than a cocktail weenie but not nearly as long as a “regular” sausage link.  A lesser man than I would make a joke about sausage size here, but really, that’s not what we’re here for.  Let’s just say they’re perfectly adequate, and besides no one notices that as long as they fill you up.  I mean, that’s what I’ve heard.  All kidding aside, I’m not a massive eater and one serving fell somewhere between a snack and a full meal for me, so take that into account and be prepared to order two if you’re really hungry.  Or decide you’re okay with feeling partially unsatisfied in exchange for a cheap(er) date.  $1.59 buys you 300 calories and no cuddling afterwards.

I had expected a strong smell of sausage from the little bastards, but surprisingly this wasn’t the case; the cornmeal forms an impenetrable force field locking in the scent of cooked meat.  It basically just smells like a corn muffin with a slight whiff of maple syrup — disappointing for the more carnivorous among us, but ideal for not drawing attention in a crowded elevator or for tricking a vegetarian into eating one.  That only holds true until you bite in, of course, at which point the meaty aroma is unlocked like a new character in Street Fighter.  By then you won’t care, though, because you’ll have a bite (a bite of a bite?) in your mouth.

And the verdict is… yeah, they’re pretty good.  The maple syrup taste is understated and so is the pancake, maybe to avoid overpowering the sausage, which to be fair IS cooked well and tastes delicious.  That said, I could’ve done with a little less stinginess on the syrup, maybe even — dare I say it? — a dipping cup.  It has the overall effect of making them seem more like corn muffin sausage bites than pancake sausage bites, which probably isn’t as marketable, so I guess they knew what they were doing with the name.  Really, though, the sausage taste dominates; everything else is just a slight hint on your taste buds, and like that – POOF.  Like Keyser Söze.

So they’re not quite the slam dunk they might initially appear to be, but I can still recommend the sausage pancake bites, and I’m not just saying that because the counter girl at my local DD once said I had really pretty eyes.  (I do, they offset my widow’s peak.)  As expected, the pancake side of things had to be downplayed because that would be just too much awesome for one dish, but they’re still tasty.  And while I’d stop short of calling three little mini-corndogs for a buck and a half a bargain, they won’t exactly break the bank either.  Except in your eventual gym membership fees if you routinely get two servings.

(Nutrition Facts – 3 pieces – 300 calories, 180 calories from fat, 20 grams of fat, 7 grams of saturated fat, 20 milligrams of cholesterol, 550 milligrams of sodium, 23 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 7 grams of sugar and 7 grams of protein.)

Other Dunkin’ Donuts Pancake Bites reviews:
Grub Grade

Item: Dunkin’ Donuts Sausage Pancake Bites
Price: $1.59 per serving; two for $3.00
Size: 3 bites per serving
Purchased at: Dunkin’ Donuts
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Relatively inexpensive.  Tricking vegetarians.  Easy to eat while driving.  Tasty seal.
Cons: Syrup deficiency.  Olfactory deception.  No matter what your girlfriend told you, size matters.

Doesn’t seem like chicken tenders would be such a big deal. Lots of fast food places have them. I’m actually surprised Carl’s Jr. has waited so long to introduce them to the menu.

You’d think such an addition would go gentle into that good night, but no. According to Carl’s, these are not just any chicken tenders. These are hand-breaded chicken tenders, and that is a big deal. There have been an onslaught of commercials: one going the fear route, with nothing but video of “Box 1457 B partially cooked frozen chicken strips” slowly panning out while the ominous voice-over informs you that they’ve been sitting there for 12 days, trying to convince you that even though you’ve been eating these crappy chicken strips for years, if you do it just one more time YOU WILL DIE. Okay, maybe not that bad, but close.

Another takes quite a different spin. Two receptionists stuff their faces with the hand-breaded chicken tenders; one asks the other why she stopped working at Carl’s, and she says it was too much work, with all the dipping and the hand-breading and the frying and the hey lady! Then the phone rings, and the first girl says, “That phone is soooo annoying.” Continue with face-stuffing.

As a female and a former career receptionist/secretary/office bitch, I should be offended, if I was the type of person to be offended by such things. But hey, if it gets the point across and Carl’s Jr.’s marketing department doesn’t mind being accosted by angry feminists and secretaries for portraying all of them as completely vapid bitches, have at it.

The Spanish-speaking contingent gets the best commercial. Isn’t that always the way? Obviously meant as a parody of telenovelas, some dude ogles the hot Latina maid dressed up in a “Sexy French Maid” Halloween outfit. Another hot Latina chick, presumably his wife, catches him in the act and starts screaming, wiping the table clean with a dramatic sweep of her arm and the breakage of several pieces of delicate flatware. The maid then sexily brings the man a tray of chicken tenders, the wife and the man sexily eat the chicken tenders, and the maid looks at them both sexily. I have no idea what is going on, but it is obviously the best of the bunch.

Carl’s description of the chicken tenders is “Freshly prepared hand-breaded chicken tenders. Premium, all-white meat chicken hand dipped in buttermilk, lightly breaded and fried to a golden brown. Served with a choice of honey mustard, buttermilk ranch or sweet & bold BBQ dipping sauces.”

Some of these things are true. Some of them are indeterminate. I have to say, I thought the chicken definitely tasted fresher, or perhaps more chicken-like, than I’ve experienced with other fast food chicken strips. It both looks and tastes like an authentic piece of chicken breast. The meat is juicy and fairly tender.

As for the breading, I wouldn’t call it “lightly breaded,” but I also wouldn’t call it “smothered in two inches of crunchy breading,” which is how I would describe KFC’s chicken. Not that that’s a bad thing. Unfortunately, my tenders were fried to a little more than golden brown. I might go so far as to say they were over-fried. They didn’t taste burnt, but they could have been a little more on the golden side. That’s just the vagaries of fast food though; the next order could have been fried perfectly. The breading was crunchy and a little greasy, and didn’t really seem to contain any special spices.

I enjoyed Carl’s Jr.’s Hand-Breaded Chicken Tenders, but they didn’t exactly blow my mind. Yeah, the chicken tastes fresh, and the breading is pretty good, but to be honest, if I hadn’t been beaten over the head by Carl’s with the idea that these were “freshly prepared” and “hand-breaded,” I wouldn’t have known the difference. The breading is a little bit of a different texture, but doesn’t scream groundbreaking. The Chicken Tenders came with some buttermilk ranch dip, but it too didn’t blow my mind. It would really help if a hot Latina served them to me in a French Maid outfit, though.

(Nutrition Facts – 5 chicken tenders (246 grams) – 560 calories, 280 calories from fat, 31 grams of total fat, 6 grams of saturated fat, 120 milligrams of cholesterol, 1,930 milligrams of sodium, 24 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 1 gram of sugars and 47 grams of protein.)

Other Carl’s Jr. Hand-Breaded Chicken Tenders reviews:
An Immovable Feast
Grub Grade

Item: Carl’s Jr. Hand-Breaded Chicken Tenders

Price: $4.69

Size: 5 tenders (246 grams)

Purchased at: Carl’s Jr.

Rating: 6 out of 10

Pros: Chicken was juicy. Hot Latina chicks. Meat seemed like real breast meat. Breading had a good texture. “Box 1457 B.”

Cons: Tenders were over-fried, but that could just be bad luck. Stereotypes that receptionists are dumb and lazy. Breading had no spices or special flavoring. Fear of ever eating pre-breaded chicken strips again. Couldn’t tell if they were hand-breaded or not anyway.

In the Korean language, I’m pretty sure kobari is a swear word.

Okay, I’m not 100 percent sure. It could just be a completely made up name Panda Express wordsmithed to give to their new Korean Kobari Beef. I’m not Korean, nor do I have a Korean translator handy to ask, but kobari really does sound more like Korean profanity than a Korean dish. According to the internet, which I trust when diagnosing rashes on my body, the words jiral, shibal, poji, gaeseki, kochu and byungsin are all real Korean obscenities.

Don’t you think kobari would fit nicely in that list?

Actually, I have to admit, if those swear words were on a Korean barbeque menu, they would all sound delicious. I would especially want to put some kochu in my mouth to go with a bibimbap. As for kobari, I still think it sounds like a swear word.

And if it’s not, I think we should all start using it like one. But I’m not sure what it should mean because after doing Korean profanity research, they appear to have words for all the common swear words that English speakers have. So it’s going to have to be an uncommon English swear word.

Personally, I think it should mean taint licker, i.e. a level above brown nosing.

For example: Man, Bob wants that raise so badly that he’s being a total kobari!

Well, until kobari is added to Urban Dictionary, I guess for now it will be the name of Panda Express’ Kobari Beef, which is made up of thin slices of marinated beef with wok-seared bell peppers, mushrooms, onions and leeks and tossed with a sweet, smoky and spicy Kobari sauce.

While the previous sentence makes Kobari Beef sound delicious, I have to say that it’s quite possibly the most boring and blandish non-starch item I’ve ever eaten at Panda Express. I don’t have a beef with most of the ingredients, but I think the Kobari sauce is the cause of this dish’s lack of flavor. While it’s sweet, smoky and spicy, it’s also not a very strong sauce. It’s what makes Kobari Beef The English Patient of Panda Express dishes, and I’m surprised I didn’t fall asleep while eating it.

When I heard Panda Express was doing a Korean dish, it seems a bit odd to me because if you ask some people, they’ll say Panda Express doesn’t even do Chinese very well. But I’m a Panda Express fan and there is a very short list of their dishes that I won’t eat, most of which include shrimp, which I am allergic to. However, that list got a little longer because of Kobari Beef.

While I may not enjoy it, others probably will and if Kobari Beef becomes successful, it could encourage Panda Express to create menu items from other Asian cuisines and give them names that sound like profanity from their respective languages.

(Nutrition Facts – 5.3 ounces – 210 calories, 60 calories from fat, 7 grams of fat, 1.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 25 milligrams of cholesterol, 840 milligrams of sodium, 20 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of fiber, 10 grams of sugar and 15 grams of protein.)

Item: Panda Express Kobari Beef
Price: $6.50 (2 choice plate)
Size: 5.3 ounces
Purchased at: Panda Express
Rating: 3 out of 10
Pros: Uses leeks. Wide variety of vegetables used. Other Panda Express choices. Decent calorie count. Good source of protein. Knowing how to swear in other languages. Putting some kochu in my mouth.
Cons: The English Patient of Panda Express dishes. Boring and bland. Weak sauce. Not having a Korean translator handy. Awesome source of sodium. Kobari sounds like a Korean swear word.

The Jack in the Box Really Big Chicken Sandwich isn’t really big.

Heck, I don’t think it can be even considered just “big” by today’s fast food standards, which have been set by burgers like BK’s Steakhouse XT and whatever monstrosities Carl’s Jr. and Hardee’s come up with. To me, even the Big Mac shouldn’t be regarded as “big” when compared with the latest fast food burgers.

The sandwich has two chicken patties, but even with them it looks small. But if the Really Big Chicken Sandwich can be considered big, then there are certain men out there who should have no reason to buy a 450-horsepower sports car to make up for particular inadequacies in their nether regions.

The size of this Jack in the Box chicken sandwich disappoints me not only because I feel it’s false advertising, but also because if there’s a fast food company that should understand what “really big” is it’s Jack in the Box, whose fake CEO has a head so comically large that I’m surprised people who come near him don’t get caught in his gravitational field and orbit around his head.

Jack in the Box’s Really Big Chicken Sandwich is made up of two crispy chicken patties with two slices of Swiss-style cheese, lettuce, tomato, bacon, and mayo-onion sauce in between a bun. The sandwich kind of looks like the reproductive result of what would happen if a KFC Double Down and a McDonald’s Big Mac got all hot and oily with each other.

While I don’t think it’s really big, I do think it’s a mighty tasty sandwich, mainly due to the mayo-onion sauce and an ingredient that seems to make almost everything better. No, not the tears of a child whose ice cream has fallen off of its cone and onto the ground; I’m talking about bacon.

The strips of pig may not be visible in the pictures above and they may not be crispy, which is almost always the case with fast food bacon, but they do add a pleasant smokiness to the sandwich. The chicken patties were crispy and flavorful; the cheese was hardly noticeable; the lettuce and tomato allowed me to say I ate a serving of vegetables; and the bun was surprisingly durable and not bad tasting.

A Jack in the Box Really Big Chicken Sandwich small combo will run you $3.99, even in Hawaii, which is a reasonable price for what you get. But it would be an even better deal if the Really Big Chicken Sandwich was actually really big.

Wait a second…If the Really Big Chicken Sandwich isn’t really big, then shouldn’t we also be wondering if it’s really a chicken sandwich?

(Nutrition Facts – 1 sandwich – 748 calories, 44 grams of fat, 9 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat* (*contains less than 0.5 grams of trans fat due to the use of partially hydrogenated oils), 85 milligrams of cholesterol, 1834 milligrams of sodium, 471 milligrams of potassium, 56 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of fiber, 4 grams of sugar and 30 grams of protein.)

Item: Jack in the Box Really Big Chicken Sandwich
Price: $3.99 (small combo)
Size: Small Combo
Purchased at: Jack in the Box
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Tasty sandwich. Bacon gives it a smokiness. Affordable combo price. Awesome source of protein and potassium. Mayo-onion sauce is tasty. Eating vegetables. Durable bun. Tears of a child whose ice cream has fallen onto the ground.
Cons: Not a really big chicken sandwich. Awesome source of sodium and fat. Cheese was hardly noticeable. Looks like what would happen if a KFC Double Down and a McDonald’s Big Mac hooked up.

Arby’s is like the middle child of the fast food industry. You’ve got the oldest child, represented by places like McDonald’s, Burger King and Taco Bell. They’ve been around, they’re reliable and you know you can trust them to be there when you need them. Then there’s the baby of the family, that local place that you dote upon – that one little burger joint on Center Street or the musty taqueria that is probably violating at least a half dozen health codes. You tell your friends about them, even show them some pictures, not realizing that they honestly don’t care.

Then there’s Arby’s.

Sure, it’s always hanging around, but its cries for attention go largely ignored. It shuffles its feet, wondering when someone will notice the uniqueness, the ingenuity of its shaved beef sandwiches. It’s even tried other tactics to gain your attention, like its line of Market Fresh sandwiches, which got put on the fridge but was promptly covered up by Wendy’s B+ on her calculus test.

Badly-constructed analogies and sweeping generalizations about a whole nation’s opinion on Arby’s aside, their latest arm-waving “look at me!” creation goes even further, with the limited-edition Steakhouse Sub.

The commercial itself is a sad thing to see: a man is parked literally a few feet away from an actual steakhouse, and then decides to go to Arby’s instead. He is already at a steakhouse that serves real steak. I believe he describes Arby’s new sandwich as a “steakhouse dream,” but by then my brain had already exited my skull, carrying a bindle and sticking its thumb out in a desperate attempt to get as far away from my television as possible, so don’t quote me on that.

What exactly makes this sandwich such a “dream?” According to Arby’s, “When you’re craving that big Steakhouse taste, this sub delivers. We piled our classic, thinly sliced roast beef with melted Swiss cheese and crispy onions on a toasted ciabatta roll and topped it all off with our zesty cracked peppercorn sauce.”

If you’ve never had an Arby’s roast beef sandwich before, imagine the roast beef being a notch or two above the packet of Carl Buddig “Beef” that your mom used to pack in your lunch for school. Or was that just my mom?

Great, yet another childhood trauma I’ll have to bring up with my therapist at our next appointment. Anyway, Arby’s roast beef is thinly sliced, quite salty, and if you try really hard, you can even detect a vague taste of beef. But that’s about all you’re going to get out of it.

The onions added zero flavor or texture to the sandwich. Arby’s claims they are “crispy onions.” Mine were anything but. I ate some of the stragglers on my plate that had escaped from the Steakhouse Sub, and they were soggy, tough and chewy. It’s like they took a can of French’s French Fried Onions and let them sit in a deep frier for half an hour.

The sauce was actually quite nice on its own; I would even venture to agree with Arby’s claims of it being “zesty.” Much like the onions, it seemed to get swallowed up by the rest of the sandwich and I couldn’t really taste it unless my tongue was in direct contact with the sauced bun. I went to check out the ingredient list and there must have been 50 of them in the sauce alone, but I think the inclusion of steak sauce was probably what gave it a little zing. Or it could have been the disodium inosinate. Who can tell?

Part of the reason I couldn’t feel the chewy texture of the onions was that the ciabatta roll itself was overly chewy. Taking a bite of the Steakhouse Sub felt a bit like I was a puppy wrestling with a rope toy; to tear through the bread, I had to whip my head back and forth with my teeth firmly dug into the bun. I may have even growled once or twice, I’m not entirely sure.

Okay, so it wasn’t that bad, but I do think that the bread-to-fillings ratio was tipped too heavily in the former’s favor, especially when it came to the sauce and the onions. I got a few bites where I could taste a little zip from the sauce, but the onions added nothing, and most bites were just a mouthful of bread and some mildly beefy-tasting slices of meat.

If Arby’s thinks their Steakhouse Sub is something that’s going to lure someone already at a steakhouse to their nearest Arby’s drive-thru, they need to head out to a Black Angus Steakhouse and do a little R&D. The fact that I’m using Black Angus as my example of a steakhouse taste they should emulate should speak volumes in and of itself.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 sandwich (268 grams) – 750 calories, 360 calories from fat, 40 grams of total fat, 10 grams of saturated fat, 1 gram of trans fat, 70 milligrams of cholesterol, 1,970 milligrams of sodium, 67 grams of carbohydrates, 3 grams of dietary fiber, 3 grams of sugars, 30 grams of protein, 4% vitamin A, 4% vitamin C, 15% calcium and 20% iron.)

Item: Arby’s Steakhouse Sub

Price: $2.99

Size: 1 sandwich

Purchased at: Arby’s

Rating: 3 out of 10

Pros: Cracked peppercorn sauce was zesty, if you licked the bun. Actual steakhouses. Fair-sized sandwich for the price. Hobo bindles. Making sweeping generalizations about other people’s opinions.

Cons: Too much chewy ciabatta drowning out other flavors. Tough, un-crisp onions. Being the middle child. Arby’s roast beef in general. Playing tug-of-war with my lunch. Carl Buddig.

Wendy’s has recently added a new flavor to their line of boneless chicken wings – Spicy Chipotle. Their website describes them as “made from 100% all-white meat chicken breast, delicately breaded and hand-tossed in a sauce made with real chipotle peppers, dark chili powder, and a touch of amber honey.”

Before even trying these “wings,” I have a bone to pick (queue laugh track) with this product. First of all, fast food establishments are notorious for offering “spicy” menu items that are, well…not spicy. I guess they figure the American public can’t handle anything with more kick than a slice of pepper jack cheese. Second, I am soooo over chipotle. Like pomegranate, it’s one of those tired foodie trends that every chef on the Food Network loves to trot out and explain in detail, like you’ve never heard of a dried jalapeño pepper before and it’s going to BLOW YOUR MIND. Thirdly, there’s no such thing as boneless chicken wings. You know what a boneless chicken wing is? It’s a chicken nugget. You can’t fool me, Wendy’s. I was going to make a tasteless zombie Dave Thomas joke here, but he always seemed like a pretty cool guy, so I guess I’ll just leave it at that.

When I first tasted these chicken nugg- chicken boneless wings, my first thought was, hey, at least the chicken’s not bad. I’d rank it above some of the other fast food chicken nuggets I’ve had. My second thought was, I can barely taste the sauce. Half of my “wings” were glopped up with the sticky stuff, and the other half looked practically naked. And not the good kind of naked, like doing an innocent Google image search for Padma Lakshmi and getting more than you expected. Luckily, there was a bunch of it gathered in what I can only describe as a thick sea of slime at the bottom of the tray, so I could smear my naked nuggets around in that, like two ladies wrestling in a tub of half-melted Jell-O. Maybe Padma Lakshmi and Aida Mollenkamp? Only because I’d like to see Padma beat the pretty out of Aida.

My third thought, after I’d gotten a decent amount of sauce and also guaranteed at least one of my laptop keys would now stick forever (from the sauce, pervs), was that I wasn’t actually sure I’d gotten the right flavor of boneless wings. Wendy’s offers two other flavors – Honey BBQ and Sweet & Spicy Asian – and as I sat here, I honestly couldn’t tell what flavor I’d gotten. I’ve never had the two other products, but all three have a distinct “sweet and spicy/smokey/spicy and smokey” vibe, and that’s pretty much all I could tell about the flavor of this sauce. It was a little sweet. It was…maybe a little smokey? Did I detect what passes for spicy somewhere in there?

I figured I’d check the receipt to see if it at least said I’d gotten the right menu item, not that it means anything. I looked in the bag…no receipt. I was on my own. I dredged my finger along the bottom of the tray, pulling up a big glob of the sauce. It was dark orange, with some little speckles in it…could that be the chili powder? I sucked the sauce off my finger, trying to forget my earlier Jell-O wrestling comments. With no chicken in the way, I definitely detected more spice, a little smokiness, and a sweet honey taste. Okay, I’m pretty sure I got the right stuff. And I don’t mean The Right Stuff.

It’s hard to imagine a sauce with chipotle, chili powder and honey in it, that does indeed have elements of spice, smokiness, and sweetness, could be bland, but Wendy’s Spicy Chipotle sauce manages to accomplish this feat. The chicken itself is actually of quite good quality for a chicken nugget (or boneless wing), but I’d rather be dipping it in something like a spicy mustard than have it covered in gooey, uninteresting chipotle sauce. The flavors just aren’t bold enough to pop, and the texture is a little off-putting. Overall, it’s a disappointing addition to Wendy’s menu.

(Nutrition Facts – 10 boneless wings – 500 calories, 180 calories from fat, 4 grams of saturated fat, 20 grams of total fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 80 milligrams of cholesterol, 1,640 milligrams of sodium, 48 grams of carbohydrates, 3 grams of dietary fiber, 10 grams of sugars, 33 grams of protein, 20% vitamin A, 25% vitamin C, 4% calcium and 8% iron.)

Here are other Wendy’s Spicy Chipotle Boneless Wings reviews:
Mishens Fast Food Reviews
An Immovable Feast

Item: Wendy’s Spicy Chipotle Boneless Wings
Price: $3.99, or so the Internet tells me. I have no receipt to prove that.
Size: 10 boneless wings
Purchased at: Wendy’s
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: Chicken was pretty good quality. GISing Padma Lashmi. Quite a few wings for the price. Jell-O wrestling.
Cons: Sauce was too bland. Aida Mollenkamp. Half my chicken was naked. Feeling uncomfortable about sucking goo off my finger. Claims of spiciness that don’t deliver.