McDonald’s Premium Wraps

So I was at a McDonald’s the other day…

I know, I know, it wasn’t by choice.

Well, not my choice anyway. There were two little ones in the car with me who wanted a toy, and since I didn’t have time to go home and make lunch, I figured, what the hell, the little ones can probably live through another meal of McNuggets without immediately contracting Type-2 Diabetes.

That's dia-beet-us, ya little punk.

That’s dia-beet-us, ya little punk.

Right. Anyway, I looked for the healthiest thing on their menu. It required the use of a microscope. But I found it. The side salad. No dressing. 20 glorious calories.

Screw that. If I’m going to be here, I’m going to eat some bloody fries. Because for all of the crap I give them and will give them in the rest of this post, McDonalds has mastered the art of taking potatoes, mashing them into a paste, forming them into sticks, deep frying them and sprinkling enough salt on them to give the consumer hypertension in one sitting, and it makes the things incredibly delicious.

Mmmm... reconstituted potato sticks... Glaaaaaaahh...

Mmmm… reconstituted potato sticks… Glaaaaaaahh…

So what else we got?

Premium wraps. Hey, I remember those. They were supposed to be healthy right?

300-400 calories. Okay… all things considered that isn’t that bad. Of course, a Big Mac is only a couple hundred more. Maybe I should get one of those instead.

No… stick to the wrap. There will be less self-loathing and regret afterwards.

So I ordered the Chicken Bacon Premium Wrap.

It came in its own special packaging that had printed instructions on what I should do to open it and enjoy the wrap contained within its bright green box (GREEN MEANS IT’S HEALTHY!!!) These instructions went beyond open box, grab wrap, shove into food hole, so I’m thinking we really are screwed as a culture now.

Okay so, here we go…

The first bite is lukewarm bacon and a tortilla. Cool. I will never complain about bacon. Even lukewarm, bacon is the official food of Protestant Heaven. (It’s what is sending most of us there early, after all.)

For those of you who end up with a place in Jewish or Islamic Heaven. Come by as often as you’d like for a visit, I’ll have a Bacon Cheeseburger waiting for you.

Pictured: Heaven

Pictured: Heaven

Second bite. I bite into an ocean of some sort of tangy Ranch dressing. It’s like a Ranch burrito. Mixing the lovely consistency of a wet flour tortilla with a pasty thick glob of ranch dressing. I think I may have tasted something like citrus in there too, before the ranch dressing put my taste buds into a submission hold and choked them out.

Worse. I can no longer taste the bacon in there. This is starting to bring back unpleasant memories of schoolyard lunches, when my mom would put one slice of deli meat between two pieces of Wonder bread and glue it all together with a gallon of Miracle Whip. My gag reflex almost kicks in.

Third bite. There’s less ranch on this bite. Okay… I can do this. The worst is behind me, I hope. And I found my first piece of grilled chicken. The ranch is still overpowering the rest of my senses.

Fourth bite. Less ranch, more chicken and bacon. This is becoming more palatable again. I think my taste buds are starting to reboot and come back online.

Fifth bite. Holy cow. Is that? My God… it’s a tomato. Okay it’s half a tomato slice, but I haven’t seen a tomato anywhere near a McDonalds since they got rid of the McBLT some 25 years ago. Welcome back, my red friend.

Fun fact: The fourth Indiana Jones movie was originally called: Indiana Jones and the Search for a Tomato at McDonald's. Test audiences found it too implausible, so they went with aliens.

Fun fact: The fourth Indiana Jones movie was originally called: Indiana Jones and the Search for a Tomato at McDonald’s. Test audiences found it too implausible, so they went with aliens.

The ranch long gone, the rest of the wrap was pretty okay. Not as filling as some of their other options, but if you value the illusion of eating healthy fast food, this should salve your conscience enough.

At least until you reach the ocean of Ranch, at which point, you’ll probably curse your conscience for not letting eat the Big Mac instead.

Also, if you work for McDonalds corporate, can you please send an email down to the franchisees to maybe hold back on the ranch a smidge?


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