Thursday, July 16, 2009
TBG Eats: The Teriyaki Six-Dollar Burger from Carl's Jr.
Current Weight: 168.8 lbs.
Mrs. Bootleg and I fight about the silliest things.
For example, my wife cannot be trusted with a fast food order unless I'm there to ensure she gets it right and that the kids behind the counter don't screw it up.
A few weeks ago – at the San Diego Fair – Mrs. Bootleg went off by herself and ordered a basket of catfish and fries. She made it all the way across the fairgrounds before realizing she'd been given catfish with a side of giant fried zucchini. As I constructively explained to her: here's what French fries look like…and here's what giant fried zucchini looks like.
Mrs. Bootleg was not pleased.
Several months ago, she offered to bring some lunch by my office. She was going to Subway, so I asked for a foot-long Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki. For a Californian, I have a simple sandwich order: lettuce, tomato, onion and untoasted. That's it…impossible to F this up.
When Mrs. Bootleg arrived outside the Unnamed Defense Contractor, she sheepishly handed me my sandwich and explained that she hadn't been paying attention while the Subway sandwich artist was making mine. It was mistakenly slathered in mayonnaise before my wife noticed. And, even AFTER realizing the error, she didn't ask the sandwich artist to start over.
I took one bite of my teriyaki-mayo abomination before chucking 11.75 inches into the trash can my cubicle neighbor. After work, I again constructively explained to my wife that Subway makes the damn sandwiches in front of you. What else could there be inside a chain sandwich shop that distracts from the sandwich right in front of you?
Mrs. Bootleg was not pleased.
In the interest of equal aggravation, I've been mired in one of the worst work weeks of my life. On Wednesday, I brought home dinner for Mrs. Bootleg and the boy – meticulously articulating my wife's special-needs cheeseburger from memory (no tomatoes, no pickles) and correctly nailing my son's unusual assortment of hamburger condiments (none).
I actually had to go back to the office, so I opted for Carl's Jr. and their returning Teriyaki Six-Dollar Burger – topped with a sweet teriyaki glaze, grilled pineapple, two slices of Swiss cheese, lettuce, tomato, red onions and…mayonnaise?
OK…before we continue with this review, I can't forget to include the greatest juxtaposition of sex appeal and unrealistic eating ever captured in a commercial:
With that out of the way, here's an actual pic of my actual burger:
This was one of the more unusual eating experiences in the short-lived history of this lightly-read blog. Bottom line: this is a pretty good burger. But, it's almost like eating two different burgers at the same time. For a few bites, it tasted like the standard Six-Dollar Burger which, save for the pineapple and glaze, it actually is. Then, when I got bites of the pineapple and teriyaki, it was a sticky, sweet experience that went well with the atypically juicy beef and snap of the red onions.
Things got messy pretty quickly, so I was frantically reconstructing my burger in between every bite. I'm not entirely sure I ever got the full teriyaki-pineapple experience, as I continued to alternate several bites of regular burger taste and toppings with the more unusual flavors of light citrus and sweet smokiness.
Surprisingly, the mayonnaise seemed to keep its distance from the Hawaiian components and didn't impede upon my meal. I'm giving this one the benefit of the doubt, but already have plans to order it again.
Yes, I made plans. Thankfully, I've got an open evening next week.
Grade: 4 (out of 5) Calories: 840, Fat: 43g
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4 comments:
I've been meaning to ask you this: did Prince Fielder's super-swings remind you of Homer during the softball episode of the Simpsons?
Only when I popped in the Beta tape after the fact and viewed Fielder gelatinous mass in super slo-mo.
He's got a few more neck tats than Homer, though.
So one of my best friends just got married, do the drunken nights that last until 6 AM end now? Or when he has a kid?
I know this guy in Connecticut. He tells me that neither marriage nor fatherhood necessarily ends the drunken debauchery, it just happens less often.
He and I have likened it to "old timers day". On rare occasion, we pull our retired jerseys off of the outfield wall and try to play a game we're suddenly ill-suited to play.
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