Tag: Dunkin

I’ve always been supportive of fast food corporations’ revenues on new items, and now that the Colbert Super PAC has taught me corporations are people, I am also trying to be more supportive of fast food corporations’ self-esteem. In order to be more sensitive to Dunkin’ Donuts’ feelings, and because their new product is a sandwich, I will use the sandwich method of feedback to review the new Smokehouse Sausage Breakfast Sandwich by sandwiching each piece of negative feedback between two positive thoughts.

Positive: The sandwich stayed warm while I walked the 6 blocks home.
Negative: I recently moved apartments and there are now two Starbucks within those 6 blocks. You better up your locations around here, Dunkin’. I love you, but I also love gingerbread lattes and free WiFi.
Positive: On the other hand, the counter guys at Dunkin’ Donuts never judge me for constantly confusing the only two Italian words I know. Stupid smug baristas.

Positive: The cheese was well-melted and kept the split-length-wise sausage link in place very well.
Negative: I suppose the two half-links of sausage probably provide more meat than a regular sausage patty, but they were like a square peg being put in a round hole, or more accurately two half-cylinders bifurcating an oblate spheroid (now there’s an expression that could really catch on). The half-links felt awkwardly bulky on an English muffin, and I ended up with inconsistent amounts of meat in each bite.
Positive: Overall, the sandwich did feel a bit more filling than your average Dunkin’ Donuts breakfast sandwich.

Positive: The premium sausage is produced by Hillshire Farm, whose founders are in the Wisconsin Meat Industry Hall of Fame. No seriously, that exists.
Negative: Any Hillshire Farm product hits you with a bunch of fat and sodium, and this new sandwich is no exception, weighing in with a whopping 36 grams of fat and 1,500 milligrams of sodium.
Positive: I’ve finally found a Hall of Fame whose membership is worth spending my life aspiring to.

Positive: I guess the sausage had some slight scent of smokiness to it.
Negative: That slight smoky scent didn’t really translate at all into the taste. (I just spent a half hour trying to formulate a joke about the minuscule smokiness of this sandwich, my roommate’s pack-a-week smoking habit, and smoking his sausage. I couldn’t get it to work, but dammit, B, if you stop smoking I’ll promise to stop making sex jokes about you in my reviews.)
Positive: Sausage means penis and that is funny.

Positive: The sausage mostly just tasted like a hot dog (I happen to like hot dogs). As with your average hot dog, it was quite salty, and the casing had some snap to it.
Negative: As anyone who’s ever been to a ballgame knows, overpaying for a hot dog sucks, and this sandwich cost four dollars.

I know that last feedback sandwich was open-faced, so here’s a super positive closing paragraph to make up for it and boost Dunkin’ Donuts’ self-esteem. That was a good try, Double D! Just because I wouldn’t buy the Smokehouse Sausage Breakfast Sandwich again doesn’t mean I won’t come visit all the time and taste whatever new items you have rolling out next. Hey, didn’t your IPO just go really well? If you’re still feeling down after this review, I’ve got great news: Starbucks has buy-one-get-one-free holiday drinks this weekend. How about a gingerbread latte, my treat?

(Nutrition Facts – 550 calories, 320 calories from fat, 36 grams of fat, 13 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 245 milligrams of cholesterol, 1,510 milligrams of sodium, 36 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 4 grams of sugar, and 21 grams of protein.)

Item: Dunkin Donuts Smokehouse Sausage Breakfast Sandwich
Price: $3.99
Purchased at: Dunkin Donuts
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: Sausage mostly just tasted like a hot dog. The melted cheese kept everything in place pretty well. Sandwich stayed hot on my walk home. It might’ve been a bit more filling than an average DD breakfast sandwich. There’s a Wisconsin Meat Industry Hall of Fame. Using the sandwich method of feedback. Buy-one-get-one-free gingerbread lattes.
Cons: Sausage mostly just tasted like a hot dog. Smokehouse sausage wasn’t actually all that smoky. Half-links in an English muffin were awkwardly bulky. Tons of sodium and fat. $4 is too expensive for what would be considered a small hot dog. Judgmental baristas.

In my lifetime, I’ve put a lot of questionable things in my mouth and raw pumpkin is the least troubling of them. The other things I’d rather not say. One year, being really bored, I ate a slice when I was carving a Jack O’Lantern for our annual Halloween party. I was a bit stunned because pumpkin has no real flavor. Go ahead and eat a piece when you are carving out those triangle eyes or nose.

See? It’s like the edible version of my boring cousin who is a short wave radio fetishist…no character whatsoever. Seriously, the only excitement that guy gets is when he hits one of those weird “number stations” that repeat digits in an eerie robotic voice. Don’t even get me started with the spooky ones that have “The Lincolnshire Poacher” playing after the numbers are repeated. I’m still creeped out when I hear the sound of a recorder or a flute. It’s a bit WickerMan-ish (not the Nicolas “flaring nostrils” Cage version mind you).

Getting back to pumpkins, what we are really doing is attributing the “taste” to a combination of nutmeg, cinnamon, and some ground ginger which is the major trifecta in pumpkin pies. Think about the pumpkin beers or pumpkin ice creams you have all consumed. Nutmeg is the dominant flavor and the remainder plays varying degrees of intensity.

The nutmeg/ginger combo is perhaps the most popular flavor that invokes our mind for the year-end holidays. The next holiday flavor has to be creamy menthol which is my favorite. When done well, both can be delicious regardless of what vessel is used to transport that essence. I myself like a Midori mixed with some creme de menthe for a holiday cocktail but I have great affection for nutmeg too.

If we’re playing for keeps on holiday tastes, my shout goes for all the lucky Jewish friends I have. They get to gobble up all those latkes during Hanukkah, and who the hell doesn’t love some fried potato pancakes and that eight candle of death: The flamethrower Menorah?

Dunkin’ Donuts wanting a piece of that holiday proverbial (pumpkin) pie has intelligently chosen a donut as its vessel and just recently introduced the limited edition pumpkin donut (that has to be the most times the word “donut” has been used in a sentence). Which I suppose is much more appealing to the masses versus a fried potato flavored donut or a jelly donut filled with sweet mint cream. I would buy both but I’m also the guy who ate a 7-Eleven Banh Mi which was about as successful as the Vietnam War.

I warn you dear reader and admit that Dunkin’ Donuts can vary from locations. There is one close to me where I swear the elderly riddled with bed sores in nursing homes are given more attention. The donuts here are hard and taste like afterthoughts.

Instead, I frequent the one where every time I go, the smell of fried dough lets me know it’s always damn time they make the donuts! When a “Dunkin'” donut is hot and fresh, it can rival those of the indy (and trendy) boutique donut shops that food/travel shows like to suggest we buy from lest we are bucktoothed knuckle-draggers.

With that said, know that this review is based on a shop with significant foot traffic thanks to being a neighbor with a hospital that has a major emergency trauma center. I bought two, one to eat immediately and the other to leave in that white bag to be scarfed down the following day. I wanted to see if the flavor held up since most of us are not Steven Seagal and do not eat all the donuts in one sitting.

I mean have you seen that guy? He was the freaking “squinting eyes/taking names/kicking ass” hero in Under Siege. Now that he’s a sworn border patrol agent, I’m sure the only Mexican he is going to catch is a chicken burrito or a beef chimichanga with extra sour cream.

I shelled out under two bucks for a pair of pumpkin donuts. The smell of the donut was pleasantly intense with spicy nutmeg and faint cinnamon wafting by. It was similar to the scent of a fresh baked banana or zucchini bread straight from of the oven. Images of roast turkeys, mittens, hot cocoa, and the Holiday Crate and Barrel catalog permeated my brain. Yes, I want a fifty dollar silver reindeer candelabra to validate my life.

The donut has a thin sheen of sugar glaze which cracked slightly when I bit into the fried cake donut. This was a very welcoming texture and the sweet glaze was just right, not heavy like a frosting. The cake was moist and perfectly dense. Shit, this was a good donut methinks.

The taste of the donut was at the same “Oh. Em. Gee.” level. It was a great hit of autumn spices and a tinge of nuttiness. I really enjoyed the fact the sweetness of the cake came from the translucent sugary coat. Dunkin’ Donuts was smart in not making the batter overly sweet and letting the spices do the singing and the sugar glaze perform its respective job.

The donut was still warm and practically melted in my mouth with each bite. Instead of a pumpkin pie, I actually want a box of these on Thanksgiving which I am sure some hipster already has thought of doing so he can look so “emo” and ironic-like. Screw you and your collection of Cut Copy t-shirts.

I left the other in the bag and would eat it the next morning while watching my DVR’d episodes of The Venture Bros. Did they hold up? For the most part, yes albeit a bit stale in texture but that’s to be expected. The comforting smell was still present and the taste was not affected. I would actually dunk these in milk or an espresso just to compensate for the slight dryness in the cake. Like Henchman 21, you can depend on these being a crowd pleaser. The pumpkin donut is definitely one of the things you want to put in your mouth this season.

(Nutritional Facts – 340 calories, 170 calories from fat, 19 grams of fat, 9 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 25 mg of cholesterol, 260 mg of sodium, 38 grams of total carbs, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 19 grams of sugar, and 3 grams of protein.)

Item: Dunkin’ Donuts Pumpkin Donut
Price: approximately 80 cents a donut
Size: 1 donut
Purchased at: Dunkin’ Donuts
Rating: 9 out of 10
Pros: The texture and the thin coat of sugar smartly combine into something close to mouth-feel nirvana. Steven Seagal was Above the Law and Hard to Kill. The taste is a pleasant pumpkin spice flavor that you will want to visit again. Dr. Girlfriend is really sexy if you put her on mute. This donut will invoke the holidays and make you feel festive. Cut Copy just rules, especially their second album.
Cons: This donut is only available for a short while. Steven Seagal is now Eating Burritos and is Huevos Rancheros Crazy. You need to buy from the right Dunkin’ Donuts (hint: go to the one near a hospital or other businesses that guarantee foot traffic all day and not just the morning). Brock Samson-less episodes kind of blow. Invoking thoughts of holidays suck when the only memories you have is arguing with Dad and “uncles” passing out on bitter egg nog.

For those of you who have busy Mondays, here’s a short review, in haiku form, of the Dunkin’ Donuts Stuffed Breadsticks:

Like bad Hot Pockets
Less filling, blander tasting
Same burns in my mouth

For those of you who are looking to waste some time on Monday, stick around for further elaboration (and rest assured that it will be elaborate).

I believe it was Tolstoy who once wrote, “Tasty fast food items are all alike; every crappy fast food item is crappy in its own way.” To this principle I must add a corollary which shall forevermore be known as the Stuffed Breadsticks Corollary: “… but some crappy fast food items are crappy IN EVERY WAY POSSIBLE.”

Dunkin’ Donuts is offering their newest concoction in two flavors, Pepperoni & Cheese and Cheeseburger. Both varieties of Stuffed Breadsticks had very little stuffing, and all the tiny chunks of meat had slid down to the bottom of the breadsticks by the time I started eating. To set up the second photo, I had to dig around the breadsticks with my fork like I was trying to reach the fruit at the bottom of a yogurt container.

I ate multiple bites of only bread before reaching any meat. The bread was tasteless, too chewy, weirdly pale where it hadn’t been toasted, and droopy to the point of shape-shifting. So it failed on the dimensions of taste, visual presentation, texture, and even shape, which hadn’t struck me as a significant feature of bread until just now. (Now that we’re heading off on a tangent, what would you say are the best and worst shaped breads? After careful consideration, I would nominate Challah bread as the best and – you guessed it – these breadsticks as the worst.)

Things didn’t get any better once I finally got to the stuffing. The Cheeseburger breadstick supposedly contained ground beef, cheese, and mustard, but all these ingredients were so bland that I couldn’t really taste anything. If I had to pick one taste sensation that I felt, I’d say there was a sort of sweetness to the filling. That doesn’t speak very well to Dunkin’ Donuts’ ability to recreate the taste of a cheeseburger; I’d estimate that I’ve said “Sweet, cheeseburgers!” (interjection to express excitement over anticipated cheeseburger consumption) roughly a million more times than I’ve said “sweet cheeseburgers” (descriptive phrase to communicate actual flavor of previously consumed cheeseburgers).

The Pepperoni & Cheese breadstick was definitely the better tasting of the two, but that’s about as much of an accomplishment as being the most useful poopy-flavored lollipop, or being the most entertaining re-appropriated Ben Stiller movie quote, or being the TIB writer who uses the fewest commas. The pepperoni pieces look and taste exactly like the meat in pepperoni Hot Pockets. They add a certain zest to the breadstick’s overall flavor, but the cheese and sauce contributed nothing to the eating experience except the burning destruction of my mouth.

Even the price was crappy. With each Stuffed Breadstick costing $1.79, two breadsticks and a small iced tea will run you over $5, which is enough to get you a much heartier and tastier combo from any number of fast food restaurants, Dunkin’ Donuts itself included.

In case I haven’t made myself clear yet, here’s another haiku to wrap things up:

These Dunkin’ Donuts
Breadsticks fail in taste, look, cost
DON’T GET THEM, EVER.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 stuffed breadstick – Pepperoni & Cheese – 210 calories, 7 grams of fat, 3 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 15 milligrams of cholesterol, 380 milligrams of sodium, 27 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 2 grams of sugar, and 11 grams of protein. Cheeseburger – 200 calories, 6 grams of fat, 2.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 10 milligrams of cholesterol, 400 milligrams of sodium, 28 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 2 grams of sugar, and 9 grams of protein.)

Item: Dunkin’ Donuts Stuffed Breadsticks (Pepperoni & Cheese and Cheeseburger)
Price: $1.79 each
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Dunkin Donuts
Rating: 1 out of 10 (Cheeseburger)
Rating: 3 out of 10 (Pepperoni & Cheese)
Pros: Pepperoni pieces were sort of tasty. Haikus. Challah bread. “Sweet, cheeseburgers!” as interjection.
Cons: Not much stuffing in either Stuffed Breadstick. Bread was bland. Cheeseburger stuffing was bland. Pepperoni & Cheese stuffing burned my mouth. Kind of pricey. “Sweet cheeseburgers” as descriptive phrase. Poopy-flavored lollipops.

I had high expectations for the Big N’ Toasty. For one thing, the sandwich looks incredibly appetizing in all of its many, many commercials. For another, I like the usage of the “N” – it’s less formal than an ampersand, more fun than an “and,” and less algebraic than a plus sign. In-N-Out, Rock ‘n’ Roll, Salt-N-Pepa: I love them all and they all use an “N.”

And yet, the best-laid plans of mice and men (mice n’ men?) often go awry. The Big N’ Toasty was a definite disappointment. Let’s break this down piece by piece.

The Toast: The Texas toast is really supposed to be the major draw here, and while it was thick, fresh, and flaky, the toast’s defining quality was unfortunately its incredible greasiness. You’ll need as many napkins to eat the Big N’ Toasty as you would to get through a bucket of fried chicken. I actually skipped eating the very center of the sandwich because it was simply soaked through with butter, and my hands were so greased up that I wasn’t sure I could even hold the sandwich in place anymore.

The Eggs: The Big N’ Toasty features two peppered fried eggs. While I could see that the eggs had speckles of pepper and were otherwise a visual departure from the eggs found in every other DD breakfast sandwiches, I couldn’t actually taste any difference. If anything, I would say the eggs in the BN’T were more rubbery and artificial-tasting than the regular eggs.

The Bacon: Before I offer any criticism of the bacon in the BN’T, let me just say that, in my mind, bacon is the undisputed king of breakfast meats, and even a subpar serving of bacon beats the hell out of ham, sausage, or, god forbid, Canadian bacon. Some people might describe bacon as the Michael Jordan of breakfast meats; I prefer to think of Michael Jordan as the bacon of NBA players.

So while I imagine ham and sausage still would’ve been worse choices, I felt mightily letdown by the bacon in the Big N’ Toasty. There are supposed to be “four slices of Cherrywood smoked bacon,” but the four slices were more like two normal-sized strips cut in half. Given the bulk of the sandwich, there were more than a few bites where I tasted little-to-no bacon. Furthermore, I found the bacon to be too soggy, which was perhaps amplified by the excessive grease of the toast. I’ve had much better bacon experiences with Dunkin’ Donuts’ regular sandwiches in terms of bacon taste, bacon texture, and bacon-to-rest-of-sandwich ratio. Granted, the crew at my local DD may have been having an off-day with their bacon cooking, but that would only explain away the taste/texture and not the overall amount of bacon.

(By the way, I just set a new The Impulsive Buy record by using the word “bacon” in a single paragraph ten times. TIB: Where Amazing Happens!)

The Cheese: Just standard fast-food American cheese. Nice and melted but nothing special.

I feel like I’ve been a touch too harsh on the Big N’ Toasty up until this point. If its appearance in commercials weren’t so food porn-y, or if it were just named the Big AND Toasty, I probably wouldn’t have been so disappointed. On the whole, the BN’T makes for a sizable breakfast at a reasonable price, and since Dunkin’ Donuts previously hadn’t served anything on toast – Texas or otherwise – I appreciate the additional variety. If you feel compelled to give it a try, just make sure to temper your expectations and grab some extra napkins.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 sandwich – 580 calories, 320 calories from fat 35 grams of fat, 11 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 125 milligrams of cholesterol, 1370 milligrams of sodium, 41 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 4 grams of sugar, and 26 grams of protein.)

Item: Dunkin’ Donuts Big N’ Toasty
Price: $3.29 for the sandwich, 4.99 with medium coffee
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Dunkin’ Donuts
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: Thick, fresh, and flaky toast. Sandwich is big and reasonably priced. Using an “N” instead of “and.” Bacon, always. Entering the TIB record book.
Cons: Incredibly greasy toast. Eggs were rubbery, not peppery. Skimpy and soggy bacon. Food porn-y ads that inflate expectations.