So I sat in the Archway McDonalds. It was busy. No tables were free. I asked a woman if I could share her table. She thought about saying, “No.” She nodded. I sat. She left. Another woman came to my table. She asked if she could sit with me. I told her that I was expecting a friend. I thought she was going to hit me.
The neighborhood is sad – a mix of people hanging on by a thread and hospital personnel from the Dick Wittington Hospital, which despite a new shiny facade and beautiful central courtyard fails to hide the dirty corridors and the sad state of the wards behind closed doors.
I looked at my Taste of American burger. It came in an oval cheese bun. The burger was also oval. In addition to the meat, the burger had lettuce, bacon, and lots of Mayo. I took a bite. It tasted OK, but it didn’t taste like Chicago.
Which leads me to wondering what Chicago tastes like. I guess if I were in charge, my Chicago burger would mimic the iconic Chicago hot dog that is an all-beef dog on a poppy seed bun topped with mustard, diced onion and dyed, neon-green pickle relish but never catsup. What’s so hard about that?
Obviously the British tasters at corporate headquarters could use some help. The New Yorker and the Chicago are gone, but in the next weeks, Brits will have the opportunity to experience the taste of New Orleans, Miami, and Texas.
The New Orleans burger should have a Cajun/tabasco twist with some Dirty Rice (love those chicken gizzards) replacing the fries. The Miami Melt should recognize Little Havana with sweet potato fries, black beans and rice on the side. And The Texas Grande should be slathered in woodsmoke barbeque, raw red onions, pinto beans and jalapenos.
Wake up, McDonalds! What a sad sad excuse for a taste of America.