John Cusack was wrong. The world will not be destroyed by a Mayan calendar. It will come to an end by an angry and determined reanimated Dave Thomas stomping on the competition to the soundtrack of Joy Division’s “Transmission” …then the Universe.

How else to explain their shrewd ability to kick the King out on his ass and entrench themselves into the number two spot? Ronald McDonald should be afraid or at the very least slice Grimace up like Han Solo did to a Tauntaun and hide inside. I too would be scared of a zombie Dave Thomas in red pigtails.

Like the long-term girlfriend I had back in college, my affair with Wendy’s has been tumultuous. Sometimes I was all right with what I ate. Other times I was so disappointed I would watch a Uwe Boll film just to make myself happy again. I know a lot of you out there are extremely passionate about Wendy’s which makes me chuckle. To Wendy’s merit, they have worked hard to distinguish themselves from the big two.

Wendy’s is somewhat successful in an attempt to place themselves above the grease-shacks and giving customers a higher end fast food experience. Witness the sea salt fries, Black Label burgers, and signature drinks. On a side note, sea salt has become so ubiquitous…it’s like the ahi tuna of the late nineties.

Perusing the Wendy’s menu demonstrates an uppity foodie vibe. The new Spicy Guacamole Chicken Club fits right in with what reanimated Dave Thomas demands you to eat before he takes your soul like Shang Tsung (cue Mortal Kombat shout).

The folks at Wendy’s went ahead and picked up the tab for me to try the latest offering. However, I really fumbled the first time. Besides the enjoyable texture, I thought the sandwich was just okay. My wife asked why it was called a club since there was no sign of the promised Applewood smoked bacon and club sandwiches have bacon.

I said “shut up” and threw a sea salt fry hitting her left boob. Things bouncing off breasts make me laugh, but she was right…where the hell was the bacon?

Strange but true, Seventh Day Adventists own the property where this Wendy’s was located. Hence, no bacon in my club. They don’t eat pork which makes me wonder if their Baconator is just a plain cheeseburger with a wrapper in large red fonts? However, back from the dead Dave Thomas snarled and demanded I buy another at a different Wendy’s to truly get the experience.

The sandwich was wrapped in clean white butcher-like paper to underline the high-end feel. Ranch and guacamole smeared on butter toasted buns houses the entire ensemble which consists of a tomato slice, lettuce, a black pepper encrusted battered chicken breast that is adorned with a slice of pepper jack cheese, and sweet salty thick bacon slices. That sounds like a bold flavor megamix that only the likes of Bobby “I’m on a lot of reality shows” Flay can wrangle.

I believe there is no better first time bite than something that is simultaneously creamy and crunchy. Now that doesn’t mean I would dollop Cool Whip on pork rinds because mouthfeel or not, the thing has to be tasty. Although that combo does sound good after coming home late hammered on cheap scotch. It’s a proven equation, the creamy condiments and battered chicken is akin to buffalo wings and bleu cheese so of course this would work.

The guacamole is as authentic as the Mexican cuisine from Chipotle but here’s the surprising part, there are real chunks of avocado. Among the creamy bites are diced tomato and bits of onion. It is a step up from the questionable green globs some places try to pass off as the condiment, so I was a bit impressed.

Said chicken was very moist, no doubt helped by the thick encasement of peppery batter which was awesome. As most things that tend to orbit close to ingredient overload, the pepper jack cheese gets lost in the guacamole. To be honest so did the ranch dressing and I am not sure there was a need for it anyway since the guacamole tempers the fried chicken.

They say bacon makes everything better right? It does because without it, the sandwich was slanting towards mediocre. However the bacon’s sweetness really compliments this towering 770 calorie behemoth. The two flavors that really come to the forefront are the sweet smoky bacon and the pepper.

I love spicy heat and I went through a phase where I would put Sriracha, the Thai hot chili sauce, on everything. Like my wife does with Reddi-wip, I would squirt that stuff straight into my mouth. So the sandwich is not as spicy as I would like but I have to say this colossus’ heat lingers and has a good punch.

Speaking of punch, the sandwich with bacon or not, is a little too salty at times for my tastebuds. As you can imagine some bites reminded me of gulping seawater when a wave crashed on me unexpectedly when I was a little boy.

The high sodium levels are not a surprise considering and the number of fat grams would make Dr. Oz wage war with a sharpened tongue depressor. Hey, assholes, this is not diet food, it is a hedonistic guilty pleasure between two slices of bread. Sometimes you need that in your life and despite the saltiness, it’s not that bad.

Who needs a return of the living dead, red pigtailed Dave Thomas to crush your neck to kill you? Eating a couple of these in one sitting should give you a tasty coronary failure massive enough to blow up your heart Michael Bay style. Speaking of explosions, since the sandwich is practically an encyclopedia of all things yummy, it was freaking messy to eat. I grew frustrated at how things slid off or splooged out like a porn moneyshot. This happened to both sandwiches.

Messy or not, I would recommend at least trying this sandwich from Wendy’s once. It is a step above the similar fried chicken choices from other chains. While Wendy’s and I will still have that hate/love relationship, I have to give credit for what they have done. They are raising expectations from a fast food perspective. Win or fail, Wendy’s is at least offering something different and isn’t that what we want in the end?

(Editor’s Note/Disclaimer: We received a gift card from Wendy’s in order to review their Spicy Guacamole Chicken Club. We hope our aunts and uncles will give us gift cards for Christmas in order to buy something we want, instead of giving us clothing from Sears or chocolate Santas.)

(Nutrition facts – 770 calories (less if you go to the pigless Wendy’s), 42 grams of fat, 14 grams of saturated fat, 115 milligrams of cholesterol, 1,790 milligrams of sodium, 58 grams of carbohydrates, 4 grams of fiber, 9 grams of sugars, and 41 grams of protein.)

Other Wendy’s Spicy Guacamole Chicken Club reviews:
Brand Eating

Item: Wendy’s Spicy Guacamole Chicken Club
Price: $4.79 to $5.49 (sandwich only)
Size: N/A
Purchased: Wendy’s
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: There are creamy chunks of avocado. The peppery batter on that chicken is delicious. Joy Division. Spicier than most offerings than other fast food restaurants. Bouncing things off boobies. Bacon.
Cons: It is so messy to eat which is annoying. Some of the flavors get lost. Can be a bit salty. Picturing a red pigtailed back from the dead Dave Thomas frightens me. Every Uwe Boll film ever. Baconless.

“W” can mean a lot of things. It is the 23rd letter in the alphabet. It could be the line of luxury hotels owned by Starwood properties. It’s the name of the glossy fashionista magazine that nobody reads but it looks great on your coffee table. It also reminds me of a campaign used by a certain former President. Currently, it means a hamburger that promises each heady mouthful will be packed with the flavor of pickles.

Meet Wendy’s new and arrogantly named hamburger The “W.” Yep. It. Is. THE. “W!”

I have to admit the name commands attention. The “W” conjures up ideas that this burger is the beginning and end of all fast food hamburgers. The ornate packaging would have me believe The “W” is not merely a double meat patty with cheese between two pieces of bread. No, it is the sandwich that will bring about world peace, help you find the mysterious God particle (that’s Higgs Boson to you brainiacs) and hold promises of giving your partner multiple orgasms.

Like the hucksters of yesteryear offering a tonic for all that ails you, most things that promise too much are bound to disappoint. Anybody who has played Skyrim or seen this season of The Walking Dead knows what I am talking about.

The burger is eloquently wrapped in white paper to suggest that what you are actually carrying is a fine marbled rib eye freshly cut from the butcher. Underlining the importance of this sandwich and adding to the pomp, it is tucked in a folder shouting all kinds of things like “fresh!” and “quality!!”

That, however, is where the façade ends and what you have is the fast food equivalent of a Pandora’s Box. Comparable to the Big Mac, The “W” has two patties, special sauce, tomato, pickles, red onion and two slices of cheese. And trust me, the sauce is very special which I will get to in a minute.

The promotional pictures for The “W” appeared nothing like the actual burger. My sandwich consisted of two limp square beef patties bordering on a chic gray color scheme. There’s the obligatory cheese topped on each slate. A wilted leaf of iceberg, a depressing slice of tomato, some pickles and slivers of red onion complimented the disaster. Then the sauce was slathered sloppily on the bun, which was toasted but not buttery as Wendy’s promised. I could be wrong since freckle face was so heavy handed with the sauce.

Now about that sauce…the website states it’s the savory signature sauce with hints of tomato, pickle and red pepper. To hint is to suggest slightly, but for Wendy’s it means to grab you by the head, slam your face into the wet spot on the carpet, nose buried deep and then scream in your ear “BAD DOGGIE! BAD BAD BAD DOGGIEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!”

If the sauce is signature, it is not a graceful Hancock. It is a scrawled letter X signed by an incompetent psychopath who flings their own poop at the television when the theme song to “The Price is Right” comes on. The sauce is so briny and strong with pickles, it tastes like thousand island dressing amped up with mega-ultra-relish. It is also very vinegary which intensifies the brine and is off-putting. Honestly, drinking a douche would rival the tang of the sauce.

This did not help the cadaver-like meat or the drippy cheese or the lettuce which seemed like an afterthought. The toasted buns were soggy. It was like a victim of a circle jerk but the loser did not eat the bread. The only positive note was the red onion which added a nice sweet and spicy bite. However, you would be wise just to buy a red onion and eat it like an apple.

I am surprised by this evil offspring from hell because I normally like Wendy’s. I have fond memories of The Baconator. The website said “it is doubly amazing” and they list it as a premium hamburger. This sandwich is no more amazing in the single sense than it is twice. Forgetting to flush the toilet after a dinner of tripe sautéed in black bean sauce and reconstituted dried salted fish is more amazing.

Damn, emptying the contents of my used condom on to a hamburger would be more amazing! Wow, I’m really angry about this. When I eat at a fast food place, I’m not expecting meat at Luger levels but I’m also not expecting inmate cafeteria dreck.

I agree there are so many tasteless “potty jokes” in my review. Yes. But they taste much better than this burger. “Big flavor doesn’t have to mean big bucks”, touts the website. The flavor is indeed very big, but Wendy’s forgot to make the flavor good.

(Nutrition Facts – 580 calories, 290 calories from fat, 33 grams of fat, 14 grams of saturated fats, 105 milligrams of cholesterol, 1,480 milligrams of sodium, 40 grams of carbohydrates, 3 grams of fiber, 9 grams of sugars, and 32 grams of protein.)

Other Wendy’s The “W” reviews:
Grub Grade
Grub Gripe (video)
Foodette Reviews

Item: Wendy’s The “W”
Price: $2.99 (sandwich only)
Purchased at: Wendy’s
Rating: 3 out of 10
Pros: You can pick up a Frosty or a Baconator while there. The red onions add a good kick. Images of people flinging poop in top hats make me laugh. Toasted buns are a good idea. Freckles.
Cons: The beef, the cheese, the pickle, the tomato. The sauce is too briny. Saying things that are “double amazing” when you cannot even get to the “singular” amazing. Loser eats the bread. Speaking of bread, the nice texture of toasted buns are nullified when it becomes soggy due to too much sauce. Skyrim, like seriously what am I supposed to do next?

Let’s start with the elephant in the room: naming a product “Dave’s Hot ‘N Juicy” anything is just asking for the more childish among us to snicker uncontrollably and make jokes about hot beef injections.  (Lest you think it’s just me, my wife – an actual woman with emotions and maturity and all that — was the one to bring it up.  So there.)  It’s the same reason seafood restaurants don’t advertise their moist, steamy clams that are easier to open with alcohol.  Just not a good idea.

Name aside, the Hot ‘N Juicy Burgers mark a major and apparently permanent change for Wendy’s.  We all know what to expect from fast food burgers, and being square doesn’t make theirs any different.  But now, someone has awoken the sleeping giant.  What, you ask?  Normally I wouldn’t bother, but you guys are awesome, so I undertook a Google search at great personal expense and wasted productivity, learning that the Hot ‘N Juicy Burger is apparently Wendy’s attempt to catch up with McDonald’s and Burger King and to stay ahead of emerging competitors like Five Guys.  They plan to accomplish this goal by beefing up (pun intended yet immediately regretted) the quality of their burgers with thicker patties, better toppings, and buttered, toasted buns.

Which is all well and good, but color me puce (the color of skepticism).  Talk is cheap, so I headed to my nearest Wendy’s and picked up one of their new burgers of the future.  I’m normally partial to bacon cheeseburgers, because it’s like saying to nature, “My hideous cravings cannot be satiated by the flesh of but one animal. Only multiple sacrifices will garner my favor.”  And anything that makes you feel like a Greek god without having to resort to infanticide or bestiality is a winner in my book.  But this time I chose to forgo the bacon because I couldn’t risk its presence artificially inflating the score.  Let’s face it: bacon makes everything better.  It’s the breast implants of the food world.  Ergo, if you choose to unleash its mighty power, you can probably bump up the score a point or two.

And the overall verdict is… well, I think the Hot ‘N Juicy Burger is better.  Understand that I usually order the 99 cent double stacks or junior bacon cheeseburgers, which have dulled my taste buds.  Buying one of those is like a tacit agreement between you and Wendy’s wherein they cut you a break on price, and you pretend your burger isn’t 65% sawdust and rat grundles.  This new offering is definitely better than those, but I don’t know how much better it is than the previous 1/4 lb. cheeseburger.  (Also: this is a tangent, but if it’s actually 1/4 lb., then “thicker patties” is a nonsensical claim.  I’m not an idiot, so don’t imply I’m getting more burger if the actual weight remains the same.  And if it’s greater than 1/4 lb., change the damn name.)

Still, it’s pretty good.  Not perfect, but the meat was flavorful, plentiful, and as the name suggests, fairly juicy.  (It was hot too, but I’d prefer to keep that between me and Dave, if you don’t mind.)  On the negative side, it didn’t taste any less greasy than their previous burgers.  You can see from the picture that the cheese is far more melted than they used to bother making it.  The bun definitely looks less smushed and tasted crispier than their prior offerings, no doubt due to the toasting, which is clearly evident in terms of a nice brown on both halves of the bun.  I couldn’t personally taste any butter, but I’ll take their word for it that it’s in there.  My overall impression was that this is indeed an improved burger, though not one you’ll be mistaking for a bar burger unless you’re actually IN a bar getting sloshed.

In the interest of total fairness, many of the upgrades Wendy’s is boasting about lie with the toppings: red onions instead of white; better, crinkled pickles; and whole-fat mayonnaise.  As has been well documented, I’m not a vegetables or extraneous toppings kind of guy, excepting meatstuffs of course.  Having opted for a plain cheeseburger, I can’t comment on whether the new and improved toppings make a big difference to the overall taste or not, but you might find that to be the case.

So with all these improvements, what’s the catch?  Well, Wendy’s has admitted that though franchisees set their own prices, the cost of a burger will probably rise slightly because of the higher-quality ingredients.  I don’t know what the price of a quarter pounder was at my local Wendy’s prior to the revamp, but I’ll offer that $4.09 for a fast food burger feels really steep.  My daughters shouldn’t both have to marry rich just so daddy can afford a better burger, and the guys at the drive-thru have stopped falling for my “I will gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger to-day” routine.

Ultimately, if you’ve never been a fan of fast food burgers before, the Hot ‘N Juicy Burger is unlikely to change your mind.  And the fact that it’s 520 calories with nothing but cheese on it is, well, not unexpected but still distressing.  But if you were okay with them before, you’re in for a treat, albeit one that may be coming out of your own wallet.

(Nutrition Facts – 1/4 lb.. cheeseburger with no toppings – 520 calories, 250 calories from fat, 27 grams of total fat, 14 grams of saturated fat, 1.5 grams of trans fat, 100 milligrams of cholesterol, 1,030 milligrams of sodium, 37 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 7 grams of sugars, 30 grams of protein.)

Other Wendy’s Hot ‘N Juicy reviews:
Grub Grade
An Immovable Feast

Item: Wendy’s Dave’s Hot ‘N Juicy 1/4 lb. Single Cheeseburger
Price: $4.09
Size: 1/4 lb.
Purchased at: Wendy’s
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Keeping up with the Joneses.  Feeling like a Greek god.  Flavorful meat.  Melty cheese. Apparently better toppings.  Toastiest buns outside of Chippendale’s.  A really nice set of… bacon.
Cons: Pairing provocative adjectives with a dead guy’s name.  “Thicker patty” scam where the weight stays the same.  Rat grundles.  Hefty price.  Still pretty greasy. 

Wendy’s and I have an interesting relationship with each other. I don’t mean to sound like an old man, but when I was growing up, there wasn’t a Wendy’s to be found in New Jersey, lending it a mystique not found in your more prevalent chains like McDonald’s or Burger King. I remember the only one I knew of was on the way to Snowvania, which is what they called Vermont in those days. We would go there on our annual ski trip. You couldn’t get real skis because of the war, so we had to buy two snowboards and tie them to our feet.

Now, we’d stop at the Wendy’s on our way every year or so, and my sister and I would each get a Frosty, or as we called them in those days, thickshakes. “Give me five thickshakes for a dollar!” you’d say, and a smiling Ella Fitzgerald would bring them out to your motor car. Oh, did she have gams, that Ella! Anyway, once we finished our thickshakes, my sister and I would hollow out the bottoms and wear them on our ears, which was the style at the time.

But the point is, I’ve always liked Wendy’s, partially because of their scarcity when I was a kid, and partially because they actually make their burgers plain in the first place instead of what McDonald’s used to do; i.e., making them with the works and then just scraping that shit off when you dare to ask for a plain burger. Like that’s the same thing, jerks. Anyway, Frosties have always held a special place in my heart due to my childhood memories, so when I heard they were rolling out new Frosty Shakes, I was all over that like reality show stars on professional athletes.

But then I learned something that tempered my enthusiasm: Frosty Shakes were actually replacing my beloved Twisted Frosties, where they would blend M&Ms or Butterfingers in. I have mixed feelings about that, because those things were seriously damn good, yet are also the reason I can no longer comfortably fit into 28-inch waist jeans without my Strippercize DVD. But it does create some pressure on the Frosty Shake, because if you’re not as good as what you’re replacing, well, SOMEONE is in for a few curse words muttered into my dashboard and a scathing blog review. I’m just saying.

This isn’t the first time Wendy’s has offered Frosty Shakes, but they have added two new flavors — in addition to the original chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry, you can now get your fill of caramel and wild berry. As always, I will be reviewing the one that doesn’t even play at being healthy. It does, however, aspire to a higher class of caramel by name-dropping the Ghirardelli brand. I sort of question the wisdom of that — you don’t go to Wendy’s expecting kobe beef and watercress on your burger, so are you really going to care that the caramel in your two-bucks-and-change shake is associated with the finest chocolatiers in the world? I’m not sure it was worth shelling out for the brand name, but that’s the ghost of Dave Thomas’ business, not mine.

For starters, I have to give Wendy’s credit for sheer visual appeal. You know how fast food always looks great in the ads and then like a lump of reheated turds when you pull it out of the bag? Well, I’ll be damned if this shake didn’t look nearly as good in real life as it does on TV, which is impressive. This probably varies by the server, but the whipped cream on mine was plentiful and even had criss-crosses of caramel covering it, a nice touch. (Mind you, it’s summer, so that’s going to last about 3 minutes before it melts into a blob of goo.) But taste is what really matters, and this… this tastes good.

It’s thick enough that I initially had trouble getting some through the straw, though this would likely be substantially less difficult for groupies, congressional aides, and certain Jersey Shore cast members. But once I did, I was impressed by how vivid the flavor was. This isn’t watered down in the slightest — that’s pure caramel.

It’s almost a little overwhelming, and I can see people who are just kind of “enh” about caramel thinking it might even be a bit too strong, but I really dug it. It’s rich, very sweet, and lingers on your tongue like a dog who won’t go away after you feed him scraps, but it’s okay because he’s pretty cute and doesn’t look rabid. Also, the whipped cream melts into the shake and dilutes things a bit while lending an extra little creaminess to the whole thing. I would’ve ordered another if not for the fact that it’s so filling, and also because there’s a warning label cautioning that two will cause instant cardiac arrest.

Though the caramel Frosty Shake is the main attraction, I also sampled the chocolate variety just so I could give you a broader accounting of the overall line. I know, I really spoil you guys. Though not quite as impressive, it’s still pretty good. It’s nearly as thick as the caramel variety and has copious whipped cream with chocolate sauce drizzled over it. Also very creamy, but while it’s not quite as sweet as the caramel, it tastes very distinctly of chocolate syrup. Maybe that’s why I didn’t like it quite as much — familiarity breeds contempt and all that, and it’s almost like someone just emptied half a bottle of Hershey’s syrup into a vanilla milkshake.

I don’t know that I’ll ever stop mourning the loss of my Twisted Frosties (you could mix M&Ms into a chocolate Frosty!), but the shakes go a long way toward healing that rift. It’s convenient to be able to expand the size of your ass without having to burn all those precious calories lifting a plastic spoon to your mouth again and again. Assuming you’ve got belt notches to spare, pick one up with your next plain cheeseburger — I don’t think you’ll regret it.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 small shake – Caramel – 680 calories, 15 grams of total fat, 9 grams of saturated fat, 0.5 grams of trans fat, 50 milligrams of cholesterol, 330 milligrams of sodium, 126 grams of total carbohydrates, 0 grams of dietary fiber, 102 grams of sugar, 11 grams of protein. Chocolate – 610 calories, 14 grams of fat, 9 grams of saturated fat, 0.5 grams of trans fat, 45 milligrams of cholesterol, 260 milligrams of sodium, 109 grams of total carbohydrates, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 98 grams of sugar, 12 grams of protein.)

Other Wendy’s Caramel Frosty Shake reviews:
On Second Scoop

Item: Wendy’s Caramel Frosty Shake and Wendy’s Chocolate Frosty Shake
Price: $2.39
Size: 12 oz.
Purchased at: Wendy’s
Rating: 8 out of 10 (Caramel)
Rating: 7 out of 10 (Chocolate)
Pros: Five different flavors. Ella Fitzgerald’s gams. Fast food places that make your burger plain. Visually-appealing whipped cream. A milkshake that brings me to the yard. Copious quantities of caramel. Rich chocolate syrup.
Cons: The war. Sacrificing Twisted Frosties. Pointless corporate name dropping. Difficult to get any through the straw unless you work in the entertainment industry. Ridonkulously unhealthy.

Upon hearing about the subject of my latest review, a friend said to me, “fast food salad = irony.” I didn’t know how to react to that because, despite my zealotry for good grammar, I still have no sense as to when something is actually ironic. All I know is, A) every time I use the word irony, someone is sure to tell me I’m wrong, and B) calling something ironic and calling someone Hitler are somehow equally effective at starting internet comment board flame wars.

So is it ironic that a fast food place makes salads? Would it be ironic for a fast food place to make a really good salad? What if the fast food place were called “We Make Terrible Salads”? And all they played for background music were Alanis Morissette songs, but never “Ironic”?

I don’t know the answer to any of these questions, but I do know that Wendy’s new Berry Almond Chicken Salad is absolutely delicious. I recently ordered the full-size salad for lunch. A pre-made serving of greens and berries had been sitting in the fridge in the back, but the chicken was freshly cut and added, and I received the almonds and dressing in separate packages.

As you can see from the photo, the salad included hearty servings of strawberries and blueberries, and the fruits’ texture and color suggested that they were fresh and never frozen. The greens were crisp and seemed to have a solid assortment, though I have no idea if there were truly 11 varieties, as the Wendy’s website claims. Asking me to pick out a dozen types of greens is like asking me to name a dozen Alanis Morissette songs. (Actually, I might be able to do that. It’s more like asking me to name a dozen Alanis Morissette ex-boyfriends. Ryan Reynolds, Uncle Joey from Full House… you know what, let’s just say I can’t name that many greens, OK?)

The warm and appropriately-sized chicken wedges were juicy and flavorful, which was to be expected since the chicken was just a diced up breast from one of Wendy’s regularly tasty chicken sandwiches. The asiago cheese shavings added some sharpness without being overpowering, and the almonds contributed much-needed crunch and a subtle nuttiness to the salad. I thought the only thing that didn’t really work was the raspberry vinaigrette; it wasn’t tart enough to bring a new taste dimension to the table, and its sweetness just sort of distracted my attention from the real stars, the strawberries and blueberries.

Another complaint: the salad container was packed to the brim, and I imagine most people will have a very difficult time tossing this salad without spilling anything. Also, by not addressing this salad-tossing problem and thereby compelling me to mention it, Wendy’s has forced me to use a lot of self-restraint in not making any salad-tossing jokes. Luckily, I’ve managed to get to this paragraph’s back end without any slips of my tongue. (…goddammit.)

On the positive side again, the Berry Almond Chicken Salad contains only 450 calories and 16 grams of fat. $6.99 might feel pretty expensive for any item on a fast food menu, but it is tasty and filling enough to be worth the price. I would definitely recommend you go out and try it. And if a normally salad-phobic, fast-food-burger-loving guy strongly recommending a fast food salad isn’t ironic, then I don’t know what is. (No, but seriously. I really have to figure this irony thing out.)

(Nutrition Facts – Full size – 450 calories, 150 calories from fat, 16 grams of fat, 6 grams of saturated fat, 0.5 grams of trans fat, 95 milligrams of cholesterol, 1300 milligrams of sodium, 42 grams of carbohydrates, 7 grams of fiber, 31 grams of sugar, 38 grams of protein, 80% vitamin A, 70% vitamin C, 30% calcium, and 15% iron.)

Item: Wendy’s Berry Almond Chicken Salad
Price: $6.99
Size: Full size
Purchased at: Wendy’s
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Lots of fresh strawberries and blueberries. Crisp and varied greens. Chicken was warm, juicy, and flavorful. Asiago cheese added sharpness and almonds added crunch. Only 450 calories and 16 grams of fat. Alanis Morissette’s “You Oughta Know” was about Uncle Joey.
Cons: Raspberry vinaigrette didn’t really work. Pretty pricey. Salad was hard to toss. I have no self-restraint. Not understanding irony. Comment board flame wars.