A secret menu item from Arby's has horrifyingly escaped into the public eye. Gaze in horror upon the Meat Mountain sandwich.
They really weren't lying when they said they have the meats.
What you are looking at – in either teary-eyed admiration or sheer terror – is two chicken tenders, roast turkey, ham, corned beef, smoked brisket, steak, roast beef, bacon, two slices of cheese and a total of approximately 1,200 calories, all stacked between a bun and all pulled directly from PETA members' worst nightmares. The pile of protein is famously not found amongst Arby's traditional offerings (likely for public health and safety reasons), instead serving one of the fast food restaurant's "secret" menu that diners in the know can order, similar to In-N-Out's animal-style fries or Starbucks' many infamous incognito concoctions.
The meat-eor originally struck back in 2014; however, the worst kept secret in fast food made an even bigger impact this past weekend when one Twitter user was not particularly pleased with how the sandwich in reality looked compared to more formal photos. It was, um, unflattering, to the point that even seasoned carnivores were considering veganism.
But apparently not Lori Fredrich and myself. Where others saw a horror show of melted meat and cheese, we saw a soul-testing journey of the heart and will. (And also lunch.)
So we each ordered a Meat Mountain – much to the giddy delight of my particular drive-thru attendee, I should note – with the goal of discovering the reality behind this meaty myth.
Did it really look that nasty, or did that Arby's just really hate that customer? Should you eat the sandwich? Heck, COULD you eat it even if you wanted to? Strap on your crampons, hire yourself a sherpa and limber up: We're climbing Meat Mountain.
First of all, I'm happy to report that our sandwiches looked ... like sandwiches. So any repulsion involved was just the concept of eating most of a barnyard of meat.
But, as it turns out, the Meat Mountain was actually ... not bad!
Yes, it's a imposing mass of meat that required me to almost unhinge my jaw like a snake – but honestly, you can find a similarly sized (and, yes, better) plethora of protein at most classic delis. And as for the actual taste of the thing, it was – as you'd hope – addictively salty and meaty.
It desperately needs a sauce to cut through the dryness of the meat (if I ever dared to order this monolith again, I'd opt for a cheddar cheese sauce instead of the plain cheddar cheese slice), but the meats are tasty, and there's a pleasantly surprising texture contrast thanks to the bacon and chicken tenders. Thanks to those layers of crunch, it's not just a wad – like, say, the infamous KFC Double Down.
In the end, this parody of a deli sandwich was enjoyable enough that I indeed reached the summit of Meat Mountain ... and almost immediately felt my body shut down and demand a nap. My doctor may call that "concerning," but I call that a successful meal.
So yes, for those of you with $10 (!!!) to burn and a wrathful hatred of animals as well as your own arteries, the Arby's Meat Mountain will satisfyingly cure your absurdly carniverous cravings. Just prepare yourself for side effects like half a day wasted on meat-induced hibernation and a shocking desire for salad at your upcoming meals.
As much as it is a gigantic cliché to say that one has always had a passion for film, Matt Mueller has always had a passion for film. Whether it was bringing in the latest movie reviews for his first grade show-and-tell or writing film reviews for the St. Norbert College Times as a high school student, Matt is way too obsessed with movies for his own good.
When he's not writing about the latest blockbuster or talking much too glowingly about "Piranha 3D," Matt can probably be found watching literally any sport (minus cricket) or working at - get this - a local movie theater. Or watching a movie. Yeah, he's probably watching a movie.