Porky Pork and the Funky Bunch

Good evening.

Two things.

1. I am returning to vegetarianism on my 28th birthday which will be on the 19th of February (next month). I don't know how long it will last this time but I know more about that lifestyle...much more than before...and will be more careful and thorough in hopes that it will last longer.

2. In celebration of my anticipated meat vacation, I tried a McRib.

Explanation for the McRib:

Every time this pressed-pork-slathered-in-barbecue-sauce insanity comes out, the television shows all these people, who I would assume are normal any other day of the week, going positively APESHIT for this sandwich. I remember the craziness as a kid, and again the last time it came back about a year and a half ago (I think).

But, you see, I was a McRib virgin.

When it first came out, as I said, I was a kid. My parents never really went to McDonald's that much and if they ever did all I wanted was a Happy Meal.

I needed the toys.

I had playground cred to maintain.

As an adult the McRib had an uncanny tendency to always come back to the fold when I had just decided to adopt a meat-free lifestyle.

Every.

Time.

(Okay...this only happened once.)

Naturally when it came back this time I had JUST MADE the decision to cease meating once again BUT HADN'T PASSED THE DATE SET.

SO.

This could very well have been my one and only opportunity.

What follows is my unbiased review of the McRib.

“The McRib: What the flying rat fart did I just eat?”

First of all, let me state that the hypercrazy pork-juice induced frenzies of McRibbiness are strictly on t.v. You can go into any McDonald's and order one. There is no line, there is no waiting. Nobody really gives a crap about this sandwich.

I ordered my sandwich, took it to a table and unwrapped. My first thought was “I should have known it wouldn't look like the picture.”

The bun is very flat and the sandwich is about 1.5 inches thick. Almost like a burger. Almost like a burger and it's from McDonald's. Imagine that.

The next thing I noticed was the MASSIVE QUANTITY of barbecue sauce on it. It was swimming in a pool of that mess. Rather, it was lying fallow in it since it can't really swim. I suppose if it could I wouldn't want to eat it at all. It was lying fallow and the bun was swollen with this hickory-infused brown delight that oozed as I picked it up.

Gak.

I opened the “hood” and took a peek inside. There were about 3 slivers of white onion and 2 slices of pickle. Certainly not the mounds and mounds of veggies shown on the signage directly above my head screaming “FOR A LIMITED TIME! $3.99 FOR A COMBO MEAL!” at anyone walking in the door.

Again, not horribly shocked to find that it didn't look like the picture.

Upon examination of the patty, I noticed “rib” marks were pressed into the TOP of it, but the bottom was flat and unmarked. Almost as though someone had squished it with a tire or large snow boot.

“Yo! Lenny! We need more McRib patties! You got your Timberlands on?”

At this point I thought of turning back, but no. I had come THIS FAR so I was going to FORGE AHEAD and TAKE A BITE.

Oh mercy.

Honestly it wasn't awful. It really wasn't. It tasted like processed pork dipped in a gallon of cheap barbecue sauce on a soggy bun. Nothing more, nothing less. The “vegetables” were few and far between and I barely noticed them. If I were starving I just might eat this. Maybe.

I did finish the WHOLE thing (God am I dedicated or what?) and made it back outside in a sodium headache-induced blur. A little shaken, but almost elated. I had risen to the challenge and emerged TRIUMPHANT. I was NO LONGER A MCRIB VIRGIN!!!

I could come up with all kinds of coy euphemisms for that last sentence but I just won't.

So that was my experience. I can say it was interesting and also that the whole deal makes me excited to go back to vegetarianism. Really. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing but there you have it.

Onward!!!