Remember Checkers’ old Wild West Bacon Cheeseburger? Well, this ain’t quite as good as that long-discontinued fast food favorite, but for what it’s worth, it’s still a pretty solid L-T-O sandwich
By: Jimbo X
Holy shit, do I miss Checkers’ Wild West Bacon Cheeseburger.
I’m not quite sure when the barbeque-sauce-and-bacon-and-fried-onion-ring burger hit the menu — I want to say the late, late 1990s — and I’m not entirely sure when the specialty sandwich left the fast food chain lineup, but you know what I’ve got plenty of in the middle? Memories, that’s what.
It’s hard to fully explain what made Checkers’ burger so special to me. Of course, pretty much every big-name fast food franchise has a “western”-themed burger, but Checkers really took the concept to the next level with their huge, double-decker BBQ-burger. Even now I can still kinda’-sorta’ remember the mouthfeel as that sugary, bourbon BBQ sauce and congealed American cheese melted into the crispy-ass bacon and golden-brown, oil-fried onion rings — which were so goddamn big, you kinda’ have to wonder just how much money the chain was losing every time they slapped those fuckers on the sandwich. I know the fog of nostalgia taints our recollections, but I firmly recall the onion rings having the same diameter as the flame-broiled hamburger patties, and when I was real lucky, the same girth, too. That fucker was an XXL delicacy, and being able to put one of those sumbitches down while watching Stanley Cup Playoffs hockey will ALWAYS be one of my most beloved memories of middle school.
Of course, with Checkers and Rally’s being interchangeable brands, I can’t tell you for sure if the latter had its own Wild West Bacon Cheeseburger permutation. I mean, I’m guessing that they did, but until somebody sends me an email with conclusive photographic proof, I’m just talking out of my anus here, really.
Which brings me to the really peculiar thing about Checkers’ Wild West Bacon Cheeseburger. Not only do I have NO idea when the product was discontinued, I ain’t finding diddly online to indicate the sandwich EVER EXISTED in the first place.
There are ZERO photos of the sandwich available on Google and no videos — not a commercial or nothin’ — featuring the sandwich. In fact, the only citable references to the Wild West Bacon Cheeseburger I could find was in this article about former Tampa Bay Buccaneers running back Warrick Dunn becoming a fast food chain spokesman and this official federal trademark filing application form 1997.
And I’m not even going to tell you how many hours I spent spamming The Wayback Machine, desperately, direly trying to trudge up ANY photographic evidence that my believed WWBC was a thing. For some stupid-ass reason, though, the official Checkers’ website didn’t start listing its actual menu items until about 2007, and by then, apparently, the Checkers’ WWBC was no longer on the starting roster. [*]
[*] And yes, before I start getting emails about it, I am indeed aware of the existence of Checkers’ thematically similar Bacon Roadhouse burger, which comprises some elements of the aforementioned WWBC, but certainly doesn’t have all of the elements that made the original such a household favorite around my neck of the woods. For one thing, the Roadhouse burger actually uses two different sauces (a ranch dressing-inspired blend complements the hickory-honey BBQ slathering) and instead of using those, plump, juicy, delicious, super-crispy jumbo-sized onion rings, they just throw some fried onion tanglers on top of the double-patty offering and say “eh, good enough.” But really, what’s amazing here is that, despite appearing to be a walking heart-attack sammich, the whole thing is only 680 calories, which — amazingly — means it’s actually less calorie-dense than the McDonald’s L-T-O burger we’re taking a gander at today.)
I know you’re going to think I’m joshing you, but I literally have dreams about eating the Wild West Bacon Cheeseburger from time to time. Indeed, if I could resurrect just ONE long-discontinued fast food item, I’m pretty sure I’d vouch for this one, even over the resurrection of all those damned Priazzo Pizza Hut deep dishes … and you ALL know how much I love me some goddamn Priazzo Pizza Hut deep dishes.
Which, naturally, is why I tend to get more than a little excited whenever I hear about a fast food chain launching a new burger that at least thematically resembles my long-lost WWBC. And, of course, McDonald’s fairly recently-released Bacon BBQ Burger certainly piqued my curiosity.
By now, we all know McDonald’s is pretty hit and miss with their L-T-O burgers. Very rarely are the sandwiches ever flat out bad, but by that same token, very rarely are their sandwiches ever that good, either. With McDonald’s limited-time-only menu, you wind up getting a lot of stuff hovering between 51 percent and 74 percent in terms of subjective quality, so when I went into the BBBQ Burger (the extra B, of course, is for “bacon”) I tried to do so with tempered expectations.
The term “what you see is what you get” is thrown around a LOT, but with the BBBQ Burger, that’s not just a facthood, that’s the entire product’s M.O. You’re getting a slightly more churched up than usual bun, one fairly thick hamburger patty, some goddamn American cheese, a shit-ton of bacon, some onion straws and, of course, a shit-ton of BBQ sauce.
So it’s basically the same thing as the WWBC, except … a really, REALLY scaled-down version of the concept. But then again, most “Western” burgers can be accused of the same transgression, and honestly, who are we to judge here? So, real quickly, let’s run down the basic ingredients of the package, why don’t we?
First up, we’ve got the bun, which McDonald’s own website opts to refer to as an, and I quote, “artisan roll.” Basically, instead of using a sesame-seed-encrusted bun that costs five cents to purchase in volume, it’s a fairly oily, sesame-seedless bun that probably cost ten cents to purchase in volume. I mean, to be fair, it is pretty flaky and noticeable softer and chewier than the regular McBun, so it gets some points there, I reckon.
I’m not gonna’ say much about the quarter-pound beef patty, because if you don’t know what this shit tastes like by now, there’s nothing I can do to help you. Ditto for the American cheese — collectively, our intestines have probably pumped out trillions of pounds of partially digested McDairy over the decades, and as far as big-name fast food chains, I guess it’s safe to say McDonald’s does a better job with the congealed cheddar than most restaurants. Obviously, the big three product variables here are the bacon, onion crisps and BBQ sauce. So those, I suppose, are worth discussing a little more in-depth for a bit, since they are the marquee elements of the product and all.
It’s kinda’ hard to gauge the overall quality of fast food bacon, but I’ve always thought McDonald’s was on the slightly higher end of the much-debated mainstream burger joint pork question. I mean, their bacon isn’t as good as Burger King or Checkers, but it’s certainly respectable, if not commendable pending you get some kids in the back who actually know how to operate the deep fryer instead of scratching their asses and playing on TikTok on the company dime. Of course, they try to make the product sound ritzier than it actually is by calling it “smoked applewood bacon,” like any of those words beside “bacon” mean Jack Shit to American consumers. Just rest assured the bacon is good, but not great, which is pretty much the all-purpose description of the totality of McDonald’s menu, when I think about it for a bit.
OK, the onion crisps. These, I had a bit of a problem with. I’m not entirely sure why so many fast food I.P.s are giving us this mamby-pamby, flash-fried pieces of battered onion and calling them quaint bullshit terms like “onion strings” or “onion straws” when the real term they ought to be using is a piece of onion ring, ‘cause they’re too goddamn ghetto to give you the full sandwich accoutrement treatment. To be fair though, these things DID taste pretty flavorful and my local McDonald’s at least, had the human decency to sprinkle a whole shit load of them on my burger, which I don’t think is the customary protocol at most franchises. Still, it doesn’t come anywhere CLOSE to capturing the magic of Checkers’ old halfway to being a side order of Outback’s blooming onion rings on the WWBC, and if I have to say that 1,700 more times, I certainly don’t mind doing so.
Which brings us to the “bourbon BBQ sauce,” which, obviously, is the most important variable to the entire BBQ Burger equation. Overall, I’d say it’s a fairly respectable sauce, although hardly anything I’d consider masterful in any regard. I didn’t really taste anything bourbon-esque, if that’s what they were going for; rather, my sandwich had a very pronounced sugary taste and mouthfeel, kind of like the spruced up ketchup-and-brown-sugar mixture you might layer on your favorite meatloaf dish. By no means is McDonald’s BBQ sauce here “bad,” per se, but it’s nothing really world-changing and it’s certainly not nuanced enough to pique the curioisity of any hardcore barabecue afficiandos. And if you’re wondering whether or not this is the exact same goop slathered on McDonald’s previous Spicy BBQ Chicken Sandwich, well, I want to say they taste pretty similar, but I can’t say for sure they are one-and-the-same — although if we know the chain as well as we think we do, the safe bet is, yeah, it’s TOTALLY recycled sauce we’re working with here.
So, all in all, what are my final thoughts on McDonald’s Bacon BBQ Burger? Well, it’s hardly an original premise for an L-T-O burger, but all in all, it ain’t too shabby — indeed, I’d feel rather comfortable giving it a solid seven out of 10 rating, maybe even as high as an eight out of 10, depending on how hungry I was feeling. It’s a big sandwich, and it is filling and it is quite tasty, but it’s also pretty goddamned expensive, costing me north of $5 for my trial run. Surely, one can procure “Western”-themed fast food burgers that are of equal quality (if not even better) for less money at other chains, right? Eh, probably — I don’t feel like Googling the Hardee’s menu at the moment.
While the BBBQ Burger didn’t quite live up to the hype drummed up by my (admittedly) over-enthusiastic taste buds, it at least reminded me gustatorily of why I loved the shit out of Checkers’ long, long-discontinued specialty sandwich so much in the first place. It tasted similar enough to bring all of those precious memories hurtling back, but it was also just off enough in flavor and texture to make me wonder what the real deal actually resembled again, and as old and sans an empirical referential point as I am, that’s tragically an impossibility for me at the moment. So consider my taste-test of this limited-time-only burger to be bittersweet in both the literal and figurative sense — you know, sort of like trying DESPERATELY to recall what Dr. Chek and that blue, cotton-candy Bubble Yum combination tasted like when I was in the eighth grade. Like, I have a general sensation spring to mind, but the whole package just isn’t bubbling up for me, sadly.
Which, ultimately, is the same fate of the BBBQ Burger from McDonald’s, at least when it comes to arousing my sentimentalities. The burger certainly rings a nostalgic bell on my tonsils, but unfortunately, it doesn’t ring them hard enough to get me to snap out of my longing for sweet lady Wild West Bacon Cheeseburger. But in that, I guess you already know that old poetic truism: at the end of the day, tis better to have known the joy of the Wild West Bacon Cheeseburger and watched those motherfuckers vanish seemingly overnight than to have never known the joy of the Wild Western Bacon Cheeseburger at all, I suppose …
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