Tuesday, March 26, 2013

My Own Worst Enemy (Part 1)

The pressure on any college student's shoulders to graduate in four years and make more green than their peers is enough to make a sober mind crack. The answer to that weight is an infamous weekend-ly binge in sensual pleasures. College students lay it on so thick that you'd be exceptional if afterwards you had the ability to even spell escapism. This is known as the college binge-drinking culture, and a necessary cherry on top when all is said and done is a massive caloric gorging that follows those nights of shenanigans, an act of gluttonous finality to bring closure to your weekend splurge.
The Dollar Menu at McDonalds is therefore any college student's best friend. You can have the day's value in saturated fats for the cost of the change and whatever few crumpled and moist singles are left in your pocket after last night's haze of hedonistic debauchery! With such notorious selections like the double cheeseburger, the fried chicken sandwich, an apple pie or a small order of fries, the twin arches beckon. It isn't difficult to imagine how this might occur once, and then again, and then repeat itself until it becomes a thing of reluctant habit.
All it takes is one trip for the seed to be planted. It becomes vaguely habitual at first, and then the usual patrons slowly realize a tradition has been started. It doesn't take much longer than that before inside jokes start, references and the like, and the thing has developed enough to have its own culture. I know what you're thinking, and I promise you that though my friends and I can be morons this phenomenon goes beyond us and The Dollar Menu (TDM). In any case, this is where we begin:
Rumors have it that a young collegiate revolutionary, led by an instinct to ingenuity, had the idea of taking two separate sandwiches within TDM and making them as one. Fusion, they called it. The process, he discovered, was surprisingly sexual: you peel apart the gooey cheesy beef patties of the McDouble in order to insert your fried McChicken. Why, you might ask? Answering a question like that is above my pay-grade, I'm just telling the story. The result is a bit of genius: The McGangbang, as it is colloquially known (aka McFatty, McClusterf***). Rumor has it that some establishments will even let you order it from the drive-thru. You didn't hear it from me.
The problem is that people bore easily. The new and exciting McGangbang caused a big fuss amongst the miserly community that frequent TDM, but it wasn't enough! Anyone who has ever scuba dived, read philosophy, or seen the movie Inception will understand the need "to go deeper". I have come to know this thing as a hunger of the mind, for it is a kind of craving that desires superlatives. To have the most money, to be the most liked, it feeds off compulsive and competitive instincts to drive us further than we would have thought possible; sometimes further than we ever desired. The McGangbang wasn't enough, my friends needed "to go deeper", and I have wondered at where we have led ourselves ever since. Our creation's name, appropriately, was the McCeption (2x McDouble + McChicken + BigMac Sauce).


"So it's come to this..."

Ross gave me a look that was both amused and uncertain before returning his gaze to the monster in front of him. A tactician, he was planning his strategy in conquest. As we both considered ourselves adults now that we have "real" post-graduate jobs, we had the money to justify a bold new excursion into The Regular Menu. While excitedly planning our creation beforehand we had to admit that its symmetry had a kind of beauty to it. Splitting three double-patty sandwiches into their top and bottom halves, layering their tops and bottoms into an impossible tower of homogenized beef, gluing our sculpture together with BigMac Sauce, the looks of incredulity we received as our glistening hands gripped this beast of a lunch were only a reassurance of what we already suspected: that we as artisans and as young men with healthy appetites were too comfortable with both ourselves and with our creative talents to acceptably be eating in public. Though I felt uncomfortable at the time, there was no other way we could coexist, that audience, sandwich and I. The thought of constructing and consuming such a thing in isolation made me uncomfortable for entirely different reasons.
It was the idea of The Sandwich that was such a grand thing: the originality, the absurdity, there was not a minuscule speck of beef that was not made intentional within our masterpiece. We couldn't help but feel like we, as creative nomads of a culinary geography, had climbed to the very peak of what it meant to conquer the foods at your local McDonalds. The mountain was an intimidating thing: we had no choice but to tear ourselves from our once cherished notions of hygiene, of fitness. It was a teary-eyed farewell to any idea of personal wellbeing that allowed us as professionals to lock our gaze on the task before us with a focus as strong as steel. As months of exercise and dieting were thrown to the wayside, I couldn't help but wonder how much I would have to sacrifice before the end. I was young and naive back then; I really believed that one such peak existed. I really thought that Ross and myself would be the first to plant our flags and stand above those grovelling masses who are told what sandwiches exist, that are told what sandwiches they can afford. They would be like ants to us! Where our predecessors were too afraid to leave the comforts of their dollar menu, we strode forward with empty stomachs and full spirits. Misunderstood savants, we are the martyrs of progress. All who come after are only doing just that.
The McCeption Grade II is an affront to the natural world. Should you find one such sandwich in front of you, it could mean any one of the following: 1) You in fact hate yourself, and feel the need to be punished; 2) You are a few cards short of a full deck; 3) Someone is paying you. I know for certain that no one payed Ross and I for what we did to ourselves that day. I'll leave you to decide the rest.

The McCeption Grade II:

1x Big Mac
1x Double Quarter Pounder w/cheese
1x McDouble
1x Extra BigMac Sauce (on the side, typically $0.25)

- Open the Big Mac into two halves, remove the innermost bun
- Insert Double Quarter Pounder, now split that open
- Spread layer of Big Mac sauce on either patty
- Insert McDouble, split that bad boy open
- More Big Mac sauce
- Insert the middle bun that you removed from the Big Mac.
- Spear the tower-wich through its center with a coffee stirrer for stability.
To clarify: BM/.25lb/MDbl/MDbl/.25lb/BM ; and every backslash should have sauce.
Calories (Kcal): 1630

Pics or it didn't happen...

1 comment: