The Pizza Parlor Sandwich Steak Sub WITH PIZZA SAUCE AND CHEESE

Today at work I noticed a commercial for a steak sandwich at Jack in the Box. I'm not the biggest fan of Steak but I do enjoy a good steak sandwich. As luck would have it the only sandwich available for me to review was just that ... well not exactly. This bad boy boasted pizza sauce and cheese? Anyone reading this is probably thinking "OK, I understand cheese on a steak sandwich ... but what's with the pizza sauce?"

Beats the ever loving Christ outta me. All I do know is that it's damn good.

Oops I lied. The Pizza Parlor Sandwich Steak Sub WITH PIZZA SAUCE AND CHEESE is not good. In fact the only thing good about it would've been if after removing it from the microwave it had fallen on the floor, forcing me to abandon it in the nearest trash can. I could have left it on the floor for some poor animal to sup upon, but even the mice that infest this building deserve better.

Doubt crept into my mind as I noticed the peculiar shape of this "steak". It isn't often that I've seen a steak attain a near perfect oval shape. My suspicions were confirmed upon my first bite. Yep, this was no steak. It was ground beef loosely formed into a patty ... and when I say loose I fucking mean loose. Biting into it is not pleasant. The beef (at least I hope to Christ that's what it really is ...) has a grainy consistency to it that utterly revolted me after just a second in my mouth. As for the pizza sauce, it was super sweet, almost as if it were fortified with sugar. Who the fuck is the chef that made it? The god damned Kool-Aid man? I suppose since the bread was spongy and sweet then Sara Lee was right next to him in the kitchen baking bun.

This was truly a dreadful experience. Yes, I took one bite and wanted to swear off vending machine food for the rest of my life. And that was before I even finished chewing. A span of 2 minutes must have gone by as I glared at the sandwich, trying to both convince myself to take another bite and simultaneously argue that no one should be subjected to such punishment. In the end my devotion to my blog won out. I took that second bite and have learned something very important that will benefit mankind.

There is no god.

1/5 Bites.

A Sad, Sad Day.

Ever since I started this blog I dreaded this day. As hard as I tried to mentally prepare myself to deal with the difficulties I'd face when it arrived I still feel ill equiped to stand firm. Yes I knew this day would come ...

The vending machine was completely empty today. Sure, there was a crappy looking tuna sandwich in there, which was flanked by various Hot-Pockets. As I've said before though, the point of this blog is to eat sandwiches/meals that are difficult to imagine being edible coming from a vending machine.

Sadly there will be no review today. With no suitable sandwich for me to test my mettle against there's really no other choice. If you're desperate to read something (and truthfully these reviews are light years better than anything I write, plus the "food" is much more disgusting) then simply go here:
http://www.thesneeze.com/mt-archives/cat_steve_dont_eat_it.php
and read about all of the yummy things this guy is eating. I'll be back next Saturday to try again!

Honey Mustard Chicken

I had no idea that my journey to the vending machine would cause such a stir. I hadn't even made it three steps down the hall before my excellent friend Brett noticed me heading in the direction of the vending machine and voiced his desire to accompany me and watch as I selected today's taste treat. We stood before the vending machine for about, oh, 2 seconds before yet another friend, Andrew, joined us to watch as well. Kind of cool that people actually look forward to this blog. Thanks everyone.

The geniuses at Fast Choice Sandwiches likely sought to make a statement when they came up with today's sandwich. If the makers of the sandwich I had last week had named this sandwich it'd probably be called The Juicy Tasty Hot Sandwich Grilled Chicken Honey Mustard Hot Sandwich. Instead they kept it simple and went with the name Honey Mustard Chicken. In essence they're saying we Americans are busy and they recognize it. We don't need to waste our precious time reading useless words. That's why they give us sandwiches that heat up in 40 seconds and limit the syllables in each word of the name to no more than two! I aint got time for no extra syllables bitch! I'm an American!

The sandwich itself is simple too. No cheese, no ranch dressing, no veggies. Just chicken, bun, and honey mustard. Or so the package said. After the last two weeks I had to wonder if the honey mustard would be splattered all over the top of the sandwich when I took it from the microwave. Once heated and removed from the packaging the exact opposite happened. I didn't see any honey mustard anywhere! It certainly was not slathered all over the interior of the packaging. Nor was it under the bun on either side. I could smell it, along with a faintly chicken smell and the aroma of slightly singed plastic. As I lifted the chicken itself to check underneath it, I realized they had somehow coated the chicken in honey mustard that wasn't visible to the eye. How do I know? Because like the last two weeks that shit stuck to me like the leeches on poor Gordie's balls in Stand by Me!

Another couple quick thoughts on the packaging: the chicken is pictured with lovely looking grill lines. In reality the chicken in this sandwich had faint markings that sort of resembled grill lines or something akin to the look of lines a second grader might have lazily drawn onto it with a pencil. Also, in the upper corner of the packaging it says "New Package Same Great Taste". Oh really?

Since this is the first time I'm trying this sandwich I can't say whether or not it lives up to that claim. I'd say it does ... if the last sandwich sported a sticky bun that collected the moisture of the heating microwave like a rain barrel collects ... erm ... rain. The texture of the chicken was just plain bad. I swear it conjured images of the flesh that hung off my dearly departed great grandmother's elbows. Similar in color to said flesh too. There was a peculiar squashed look to the sandwich. Almost as if the final touch the chef put on it was to have a five year old midget sit on it for a couple seconds. Plus top of the bun seemed stuck at an awkward angle like a hat on a drunken sailor.

I know I keep referring back to the chicken sandwich I ate a couple weeks ago and I'm about to do so again. I believe I pondered that any sandwich is going to taste leagues better once it's been covered in cheese and dressing that has enough fat to clog every major artery in a Narwhale. The reason I bring that up is because after one bite I was completely convinced that the chicken patty in this sandwich is exactly the same as the one two weeks ago. Though it looks like it is a chicken breast a discerning eye (and mouth) will absolutely see that its chicken (which parts only god knows) ground up and pressed into a breast-like shape. It tasted exactly like the "breast" of two weeks ago: only vaguely like chicken and with an odd consistency that kids in kindergarten would probably compare to their favorite paste. The bun became sticky as I chewed it too, combining with the chicken to coat my mouth like poorly mixed Cream of Wheat. This sandwich definitely begged for something to cover up for the taste. While certainly edible and not down right horrible, none other than the most furiously starved will find this palatable at all. 2/5 bites.

New York Deli Style Hot Sandwich Pastrami & Cheese Hot Sandwich With Dijon Mustard

No, it's not a typo and you're not misreading the title of this blog. It really IS called the New York Deli Style Hot Sandwich Pastrami & Cheese Hot Sandwich With Dijon Mustard. For some reason whoever came up with the name of sandwich felt the need to remind the buyer twice that it's intended to be hot. Maybe it was due to the notoriously short attention spans here in America. The name is so long that maybe it is a good idea to repeat parts of it so that the reader doesn't forget it's supposed to be hot by the time they finish reading the name. One has to wonder though, why they felt the most important thing about the name of this sandwich was that it's HOT. I can think of a few reasons why the company would want to remind the buyer to heat this up. None of them are comforting.

As is the usual trend, I sought something more challenging this week but this was the only choice available aside from last weeks blog topic the Chicken Something Something Ranch. Also like last week I wasn't able to get a picture. This time it was all my fault. In the rush to write this blog I completely forgot. I did take a picture of the wrapper and the first thing to notice is that it's wrapped in opaque white paper. As I unwrapped it I expected the worst ...

Turns out it was nothing more than an average looking sandwich, but similar to last week the cheese and mustard were oozing out like a leaking gangrenous wound. I did manage to keep my hands from getting coated with the gunk but wow ... it stuck to my mouth like peanut butter. I'd have to say the experience was not an enjoyable one. Something about the consistency of the cheese was just off. If there's such a thing as powdered cheese (just add water!) then that's what this surely was. On the plus side the pastrami smelled kinda good. Almost like a spicy hot dog or mild sausage.

Now even though this sandwich makes lofty claims of being "New York Deli Style" in truth I'd say it's more accurately reflects the cuisine of perhaps a New Jersey maximum security prison. One thing most folks who love food in New York will agree on is that the bread is fantastic. I usually expect soft and chewy interior surrounded by a thick, flavorful, chewy crust. The bread on this sandwich was spongy and dense, with none of the flavorful chewiness I'd expect out of NYC bread. An image of Angel Food Cake constantly pogoed up and down in my brain. The more I ate this sandwich, the less I wanted to continue. I guess I'd liken it to a bad first date. There's no chance of me composing any sonnets to serenade this bitch of a sandwich. Lastly, the mustard overwhelmed pretty much everything, except for maybe the sweet flavor of the bread and odd cheese.

The letter of the day for the New York Deli Style Hot Sandwich Pastrami & Cheese Hot Sandwich With Dijon Mustard is F. No, not for failure but F for fake. With the powdery tasting "cheese", angel food cake bread, and spicy hot dog meat the whole thing comes off as a pretty phony affair. The title of a famous Philip K. Dick story asked: Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? I can't answer that, but I would say synthetic people would crave synthetic sandwich. There's not a better candidate to appease that craving than the New York Deli Style Hot Sandwich Pastrami & Cheese Hot Sandwich With Dijon Mustard. Me? I'm 100% flesh and blood, which makes this not something I want to revisit. 2.5/5 bites

JUMBO Monterey Ranch Chicken

Unfortunately I feel like a world class failure at the moment. As I sat down to eat this week's sandwich I attempted to take a picture of it with my phone but was denied via a "LOW BATTERY!" warning. Yes, the phone apparently had enough juice to warn me that the battery was low but not enough to take a mother loving picture!

Don't be fooled! Though the first word in the name for this sandwich is "JUMBO" (in bold caps so you know they aren't messing around) the only thing it would dwarf are the organisms fit to eat it; cockroaches. That's actually a pretty big exaggeration but we'll get to the taste a bit later.

Right out of the microwave the sandwich looked like it had been a victim of some cruel flood of monterey jack cheese and ranch dressing. It was almost as if a fire hydrant loaded with dressing and cheese was located under the bun and it had ruptured. Not only that, but in a display defying logic it had managed to coat much of the top part of the bun, almost like the tendrils of a vine growing toward the sun. I'm hoping that liquid was magical and it'll give me super powers so I can turn to a life of crime as a super villain.

Now that I'm into my 3rd week of reviews the surprise at eating something that doesn't taste all that bad is relatively minute. The Monterey Ranch Chicken isn't all that bad. The answer surely is that it's OK because of all the additions to it. Bacon, buckets of ranch dressing, cheese and likely various forms of additional fat. Celebrity Chef Gordon Ramsay once said he can tell a chef is insecure with his food by how much sauce or condiments they use. Ingredients speak for themselves and I think if the ingredients of the JUMBO Monterey Ranch Chicken spoke English, it'd be in words comprised of monosyllables.

Since they skimped on the bacon, each bite where I managed to miss the lone slice and get only chicken proved to me that the chicken "breast" couldn't carry it's own weight. It was like biting a sponge marinated in chicken stock but with little salt. It really lacked any sort of flavor at all. Plus, it claimed to be chicken breast, but my guess is that though it's chicken breast it was still ground up and formed into a patty. The meat had none of the texture of chicken breast and was far too pliable. Not to be outdone by the chicken, the bun was also dense and spongy.

If ever exterminators need a more effective form of fly paper, look no further than the combination of monterey cheese and ranch dressing used on this sandwich. Since it was all over the bun it was impossible for me not to get it onto my hands. After that, it was impossible to get it off.

The Monterey Ranch Chicken isn't horrible. The taste is OK, but then what doesn't taste good alongside bacon, fatty dressing and cheese? If the overall texture of the sandwich could be improved this would surely be a more appetizing affair.

3/5 bites.

PS: I'll try to find a way to add pics of this sandwich later.

Big A Angus Charbroil with Cheese

In a way I was dreading today's blog. On my first day back at work I noticed the only remaining slot of sandwiches in the vending machine was the dreaded barbecue pork patty sandwich. As I've said in my other blogs, this was something I found even more revolting than the sandwich this blog is named after, the Double Beef Stacker.

When I passed the vending machine this morning I was stunned to see that the wheel of death had been filled. Almost as if those late night shoe making elves had paid a visit bearing in hand over processed additive laden sandwiches instead of shoe making materials and tools. Just yesterday I had made a pass in front of the machine to check and see if any other options had materialized. As of 1PM yesterday it still only contained the stomach wrenching pork sandwich.

So what were the choices today? Other than the spicy pork "rib" patty (translation: ground pieces of pork cast off by butchers and even desperate vermin not willing to sink so low, pulverized and formed into a rib shaped patty) there was an odd sandwich that claimed to be a pizza parlor steak sandwich (steak sandwich with mozzarella and pizza sauce), more Rip-n-Dips, and something called a Big A Angus Charbroil with Cheese. Upon further inspection I realized that this sandwich was a burger.

Initially I decided to try the Steak sandwich as I was too afraid of the ground beef in the Charbroil. After an intense inner debate with myself I changed my mind. If I take the easy way out this blog won't be a challenge and it probably will be even less interesting to read than it is now. I simply shook my head as I punched the buttons of the Charbroil into the vending machine, in total disbelief I was going to subject my body and palate to the equivalent of a culinary colostomy bag.

After microwaving the sandwich to the specs listed on the packaging I sat down to half heartedly dig in. I have to admit, it truly didn't smell bad and was certainly more appealing in terms of aroma than appearance. The bread had that nice slimy look stagnant water gets after oh, about 2 months. To be fair, this was certainly because the directions advise to cook the burger in it's wrapper, which though vented by a tiny opening before cooking, would still cause condensation inside the wrapper.

The beef was also intimidating. It had an odd orange and gray cast to it. The gray reminded me of the abortion of a burger my high school cafeteria used to serve.

Now here's where I have to apologize. When I first ate the Rip-n-Dip I assumed it would be the tastiest (considering its competition) item I'd eat from the vending machine and therefore be the recipient of the kindest blog in this series. So today I figured I'd be making up for last week's entry in which I paired myself off with the Rip-n-Dip.

Sadly I have to say the Big A Angus Charbroil with Cheese wasn't bad. No, fuck it, it was actually pretty good. A country mile better than what I remember a McDonald's burger to be like and something I didn't mind eating at all. Well aside from the fact that I knew it had to be swimming with fat, cholesterol, and preservatives. The bread, though microwaved wasn't a soggy mass and the beef was actually juicy and tasty. The first few bites as a matter of fact were tasted without any ketchup or mustard, a sure testament to just how good this thing was. I didn't eat the whole thing, but I easily could have had I been more hungry. To top it off, I never bit into any nausea inducing bone fragments or cartilage like I was expecting.

I didn't notice any health info on the packaging. I'd love to know how this compares to a regular fast food burger in that regard. 4.5/5 bites.

The Mini Rip-n-Dip

No, the title of todays blog isn't the name of a new line of Trojans for men with tiny penises, it's the sandwich I'm reviewing. I'm sure it will come as a disappointment to many that this particular sandwich is not in the league of the Double Beef Stacker or the faux McRib. From the description on the package there was little about it to cause me any sort of concern. It wasn't a long preserved beef patty that had surely seen it's best days when it was originally cooked nor was it comprised of ground bits of pork from unmentionable areas of the pig.

Before you call me a pussy let me explain: the pickins were dry as a bone in the good ol' Wheel of Death (vending machine). Aside from the Mini Rip-n-Dip there were some Taquitos and a couple small packages of milk, neither of which are suitable for these reviews. Lady luck dealt me a pretty magnanimous hand. Hopefully next week we'll be graced with something a bit more challenging.

So why is this sandwich not challenging? Well as the package states the Mini Rip-n-Dip is "Pepperoni & Cheese in a Crispy Crust with Dipping Sauce". The sauce is mentioned again on the label at the very top of the package. "WITH OUR FAMOUS DIPPING SAUCE!" it proudly proclaims. Is it worthy of such high praise? Let's find out!

At first glance I thought this sandwich was like a bagel sandwich, something most of us who ever were forced to take a Home-Ec class in middle school would be familiar with. As I pulled the sadwich from the package I realized that it was more like a wannabe calzone. Nestled into a hollowed out center was a tiny little container that housed the so called "FAMOUS" dipping sauce.

Once it came out of the microwave I gingerly dug in. I couldn't help but notice the spongy quality of the "Crispy Crust" as I took the first bite. Not terrible. Though I heated it to the exact specifications (and truthfully about 15 seconds longer than the package advised) it was still not 100% heated throughout. I wouldn't call it cold by any means but it sure as hell wasn't hot. Inside the cheese didn't taste bad but perhaps most disconcerting of all was the red liquid-like substance that resembled tomato sauce but shouldn't have been since the filling ingredients didn't list them. Speaking of ingredients, pepperoni is the first listed ingredient but I could barely taste it behind the rampage of overly gooey cheese.

As for the "FAMOUS DIPPING SAUCE" all I can do is wonder what it's famous for. Giving people diabetes would be my guess as this shit was sweeter than honey bear's diarrhea. It too wasn't fully heated even though I followed the directions on the package.

Though I've complained about this thing it wasn't that bad. Certainly edible enough if someone were in a food pinch. I really feel badly for someone who relies on food like this every day though. Perusing the label I discovered the Rip-n-Dip has almost 400 calories and just under half of the fat intake of a 2,000 calorie diet. Plus, my guess is that if you smeared this sandwich on a cadaver you could preserve it better than any of the ancient Egyptian techniques ever could have. A sure promise of instant morbid obesity!

3/5 bites.

A couple weeks ago I spotted something that blew my mind. It was called the Double Beef Stacker. That probably doesn't sound remarkable, and likely less so once I divulge that the Double Beef Stacker is simply a double cheese burger. What edged this nifty item into shock status is the fact that I didn't spot it in a restaurant but in a vending machine of all places. Sure, it's refrigerated. It's also flanked by not so unusual choices like Lunchables and Hot Pockets. I suppose that's why it stood out, even amongst the other not so typical selections like a knock off of a McRib, and Philly Cheese steak. A vending machine burger strikes me as leaps and bounds outside the norm of what any vending machine could or even should offer.

My curiosity was definitely piqued. After spotting The Double Beef Stacker I began to badger my coworkers to try it. Some laughed, and others seemed revolted by the suggestion. I badly wanted someone to try it so I could find out just how bad it was. In situations such as this it's always better to try and get someone else to be the guinea pig ... which is a talent I think I've possessed all my life, convincing others to do something for my own amusement.

Before I say anything else I need to get something out of the way:

I care about what I eat. I'm the kind of person that, though male, knows how to cook and cooks at home quite often. A normal lunch for me at work is something I've brought from home, cooked by me and relatively healthy. That doesn't mean I'm food obsessed or even that I eat a lot. What it does mean is that I rarely eat fast food (ok closer to never than rarely) and have eaten a lunch gained from spare change and a vending machine only on extremely rare occasions. We're talking maybe 2 or 3 times in the last 4 years.

And no, none of those meals ever involved The Double Beef Stacker.

Today while preparing my lunch I noticed in the garbage can next to the microwave a familiar looking wrapper. Sure enough, it was emblazoned in bold letters with the words: Double Beef Stacker. I could only helplessly wonder, who eats shit like this? How bad does it taste? How can someone be resigned to resorting to a vending machine for each day's lunch? Could the ground beef be any worse than McDonald's grade Z hockey puck patties that are chock full of bone fragments and gristle?

As these questions swirled through my head I thought to myself it'd be funny as hell to try this stuff and then review it. Of course being somewhat conscious of what I eat makes me all the more suited to doing such reviews!

And that's exactly how I plan on using this blog. Each Saturday I'll select a new item from the Wheel of Death aka the vending machine at work and review it here. I'm going to forgo eating the Lunchables and Hot Pockets simply because I already know how they taste and they aren't a horrible choice when stuck with no food and a ravenous appetite at work. Like I said, I've resorted to eating those a handful of times over the last 4 years or so.

Over the next week I'll come up with some sort of rating system and figure out how much of each item I'll force myself to eat (if you think for a second that I'm going to eat an entire Double Beef Stacker or faux McRib you're smoking pipes). Until next week!

PS: I still can't believe I'm going to fucking do this!