Whenever I'm given the opportunity to check out a restaurant outside of town, I feel like I'm going on a magnificent quest for a sacred object. There are a few key differences. Instead of taking my noble steed, I'm cruising along in Shadowcat, Keepitcoming Love's sexmobile, and leave my panflute and harpsichord mixtape at home in favor of the sensual stylings of Bachman-Turner Overdrive. I like "You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet" because they are obviously talking about my tits.
Today, I, your stout princess, took a drive to Chicopee to get myself to the nearest Arby's. Chicopee is marginally less shitty than Springfield, and it took just long enough for me to justify making a playlist and getting a bite to eat while driving to get food, but wasn't so long that I was disillusioned by the entire idea. The quest was to try the new Angus Cool Deli sandwich, baited by the royalty of Arby's and provided with a Magical Gift Card of Truth and Monies.
Don't worry, I've done this before.
I'm not stupid. I can see that this is an attempt to infringe upon Subway's sandwich empire. And to be honest, if I hadn't thought that this sandwich would literally be the bomb dot com, I would have gone to one of the five Subways in a five mile vicinity of town, forked over my five dollar bill, and watched a show worse than a Tijuana donkey performance to receive a salad inside bread. Seriously. All of those sandwiches are under 500 calories because they stuff them full of more lettuce than a fad diet fanaticist. So I was a little worried. This could have been a covert attempt at astroturfing from my gym, which I'd bumped up an hour to grab this sandwich. "Try our new Cool Deli Salad Sandwich, oh, and do another twenty minutes on the ellipticals, too!" FUUUUUU-
But that wasn't the case at all. When I got home, in record time, I might add, for fear that the sandwich would disintegrate if I didn't immediately consume it, the sandwich was already halfway out of its box and clearly happy to see me. This was a sandwich whose attitude could only be paralleled to a hyped up contestant on Legends of the Hidden Temple. I was initially worried that the acidic ingredients would overwhelm the Angus beef, the selling point of the sandwich and that the icky vegetables would be so gross that I'd have to pick them off and that someday, I'd have a partner who asked me to role-play as Hannah Montana in bed.
Honestly, all of these worries were irrational, including my Hannah Montana phobias. This was an excellent sandwich. The Angus on its own is the kind of meat that, if offered in my deli, I'd be happy to eat right out of the package or make a dress out of. It's paper-thin and has a freshly cracked peppercorn flavor, with a moist tenderness and a substantial crust. I really like it. And there is a ton of meat packed inside this sandwich. If I had known there was an Arby's in the neighborhood, I would have wanted to try the Three Cheese and Bacon sandwich. The flavors really corresponded well with this. I think the restaurant really came up with complimentary flavors for both a hot and cold sandwich. In this one, the tang of the vinaigrette and the mayonnaise create a creamy, savory dressing that coats the vegetables evenly. The veggies are acidic for the most part, but are very fresh and crisp within the sandwich.
The bread is crusty on the outside and soft on the inside, and the sandwich is packed efficiently so that every bite is crammed with fillings. While this isn't a foot long, I honestly don't care, because when I get foot long sandwiches, the end inch or inch and a half is usually empty or filled with condiments. Don't be fooled by the rocks that it's got. This way, it's more efficient and consistent from bite to bite. The only ingredient I found to be superfluous was the Swiss cheese. Unsurprisingly, the flavor was buried under the condiments, meat, and vegetables, and just added extra calories. At $5.99, the sandwich fed me for two meals and was worth the price. In completing this quest and consuming a mere 320 calories per half, I can now proceed to my final conquest, the Treadmill of Triumph and Pain, without feeling like I need an extra life or a plus-sized cloak.
Wanna win a $20 gift card to Arby's? Comment and tell me what your favorite item is from there, or what your best road trip was. Hell, tell me how pretty I am. Compose a ballad on Garage Band. After 20 comments, I will pick a winner!
Labels: 8, fast food, meat, sandwich
But that wasn't the case at all. When I got home, in record time, I might add, for fear that the sandwich would disintegrate if I didn't immediately consume it, the sandwich was already halfway out of its box and clearly happy to see me. This was a sandwich whose attitude could only be paralleled to a hyped up contestant on Legends of the Hidden Temple. I was initially worried that the acidic ingredients would overwhelm the Angus beef, the selling point of the sandwich and that the icky vegetables would be so gross that I'd have to pick them off and that someday, I'd have a partner who asked me to role-play as Hannah Montana in bed.
Honestly, all of these worries were irrational, including my Hannah Montana phobias. This was an excellent sandwich. The Angus on its own is the kind of meat that, if offered in my deli, I'd be happy to eat right out of the package or make a dress out of. It's paper-thin and has a freshly cracked peppercorn flavor, with a moist tenderness and a substantial crust. I really like it. And there is a ton of meat packed inside this sandwich. If I had known there was an Arby's in the neighborhood, I would have wanted to try the Three Cheese and Bacon sandwich. The flavors really corresponded well with this. I think the restaurant really came up with complimentary flavors for both a hot and cold sandwich. In this one, the tang of the vinaigrette and the mayonnaise create a creamy, savory dressing that coats the vegetables evenly. The veggies are acidic for the most part, but are very fresh and crisp within the sandwich.
The bread is crusty on the outside and soft on the inside, and the sandwich is packed efficiently so that every bite is crammed with fillings. While this isn't a foot long, I honestly don't care, because when I get foot long sandwiches, the end inch or inch and a half is usually empty or filled with condiments. Don't be fooled by the rocks that it's got. This way, it's more efficient and consistent from bite to bite. The only ingredient I found to be superfluous was the Swiss cheese. Unsurprisingly, the flavor was buried under the condiments, meat, and vegetables, and just added extra calories. At $5.99, the sandwich fed me for two meals and was worth the price. In completing this quest and consuming a mere 320 calories per half, I can now proceed to my final conquest, the Treadmill of Triumph and Pain, without feeling like I need an extra life or a plus-sized cloak.
Wanna win a $20 gift card to Arby's? Comment and tell me what your favorite item is from there, or what your best road trip was. Hell, tell me how pretty I am. Compose a ballad on Garage Band. After 20 comments, I will pick a winner!