Taco Bell’s all-new Sriracha Quesarito!

They’re pretty much the exact same products that have already been released, only this time, they are covered in a slimy coat of Asian chili sauce. So, does that addendum alone make the offerings worthy of your hard-earned dinero? 

Taco Bell, we need to talk.

My love for your hearty, affordable and probably-safe-for-human-consumption foodstuffs has nourished both my stomach and my soul over the last two and a half decades. You were there with me on my first date in high school and you kept me awake during final exams throughout my university years. I’m not 100 percent sure here, but I think my first word may have even been “enchirito.”

Over the years, I’ve covered almost every single weird-ass product you’ve released, from waffle tacos to nasty ass dollar menu burritos stuffed with chili and crumbled up French fries. Ever since the rousing success of the Doritos Locos Tacos -- in essence, the “Smells Like Teen Spirit” culture-unifying moment of my generation -- you’ve taken it upon yourself to mass market at least one high-concept fusion product every month. Sometimes, the results are a success, and other times, they are not. To be frank, I’m worried about you. It seems like you are no longer releasing menu items to sate the stomach of a starving, huddled America, but merely to pique the curiosity of the Buzzfeed crowd. Your drunken quest for publicity has driven you to that point of no return, effectively turning you into the Lindsay Lohan of the fast food industry -- only instead of showing your auburn-hued muff to TMZ, you’re test marketing Cap’n Crunch doughnut balls that not even the highest of the highest junior college kids could possibly find palatable.

Consider this an intervention, Bell. And also, a review of your all-new Sriracha Quesarito products, too.

A while back, Taco Bell decided to pull the fast food dick move of all fast food dick moves and actually manufacture and sell something called a “quesarito.” For those not in the know, the “quesarito” is the name of a mythical “off the menu” offering at number one competitor Chipotle’s chain of restaurants. It’s a move just as brazen as if Burger King were to start advertising a “McGangbang” sandwich on billboards and audaciously calling it a “McGangbang” sandwich to boot.

The half quesadilla, half burrito item -- which came in chicken, steak and shredded beef permutations -- was OK. Nothing too memorable, but nothing utterly regrettable either. Well, Taco Bell has decided to re-release a Criterion version of the products, only this time, there’s a new variable -- the inclusion of a massive dollop of Sriracha Sauce.

Now, to be fair, your overall enjoyment of this product really hinges on whether or not you consider the beloved sauce delectable or foul-tasting. Personally, I’m on the fence -- I enjoy it sometimes, but I most definitely would not consider it the type of fix-in that gels well with most varieties of food. Clearly, I don’t plan on dunking a Cadbury Screme Egg in a heaping bowl, nor do I plan on complementing it with a nice side of Yummy Mummy. It makes the new quesaritos polarizing by default, and I can hurry up and summarize it for you real quick here: if you like Sriracha Sauce, you might like these burrito abominations, and if not, it’s a pretty good bet you’re not going to like these things one iota.

Before we even get into the gustatory quality of the items, two things jumped out at me. First, how about that awesome multi-item foil wrapper, which literally lists about a half dozen products on it? For a company that makes billions a year, you kind of figured the Bell would have produced something a little bit ritzier for the new items. I mean, shit, they even made little specialized cardboard sleeve-thingies for their DLTS -- you know they have the budgeting for that kind of shit.

The big surprise, though, is when you actually open the products up. On the advertisements, the quesaritos come in what appears to be some kind of crimson red armband, but on my order at least, no such dressing was included. That really put a damper on my parade, because I sort of expected the items to be like the Doritos Locos Tacos, where instead of the gimmick flavor being on the inside, it’s actually built into the exterior shell. Alas, there is no such luck with the Sriracha Sauce Quesaritos, for they look about as plain Jane as, uh, whoever the original plain Jane was, I guess.

However, if variety is a requirement for you to get your drive-thru nom on, the new items do not disappoint. Not content with just ONE variation of Sriracha Quesarito, the Bell actually gives us THREE different products to chew on … both literally, and figuratively. But, yeah, mostly the part about being literally.

First up, we have the shredded chicken permutation. There’s really not too much to talk about here (and really, the other two products, to be blunt), because despite the presence of poultry chunks, cheese, rice and what appears to be sour cream, the only thing you can really taste is the chili sauce. It’s not a bad flavor, overall, just an extremely overpowering one that makes literally everything else in the tortilla completely flavorless. I mean, you get the texture of the chicken and rice, but the Sriracha sauce completely dominates your taste buds, like it was the color purple beating up all the other colors. If you like chicken … well, it really doesn’t matter, I guess, because with this product, you sure as hell can’t taste it.

With the steak Sriracha Quesarito, the actual interior contents are a little bit more distinguishable. As in, you can actually taste a little bit of the steak bits every now and then, but still, the chili sauce conquers all. The product is noticeably heavier than the other two offerings, which explains why it costs a couple of cents extra. Strangely enough, it also seemed to have sort of a lime-juicy tincture that the other two offerings did not. All in all, it’s an OK eat, but nothing to really drive out of your way for.

The third and final iteration is your standard just-add-hot-water shredded beef selection, and weirdly enough, this just so happens to be the yummiest of the trifecta. I can’t explain the fast food voodoo in action with this one, but the beef and chili sauce don’t seem to completely merge into a singularity of Sriracha-ness like with the other two products. Future generations, I can only imagine, will use that analogy to replace the old standard about oil and water not mixing. Since you get a nice, proportional taste and texture, it really does provide a pleasing mouthfeel experience, and of the three, this is the one I would advocate for if you had to make a split-second decision between the triumvirate.

As I was saying earlier, the foods are decent, but nothing to write home about, either. Then again, if for some reason you are actually writing letters to people nowadays, odds are, it wouldn’t be about something so banal as Taco Bell produce, but who am I to make assumptions?

I hate to say it, but I think this is a warning sign that Taco Bell may have hit their creative apex. I mean, the writing has been on the wall for quite awhile, but a product this bland and formulaic definitely gives fast foodies reason to be concerned. My suggestion for the company (actually, a subsidiary of Yum! Foods, but we don’t have to get into the technicalities) is to give it a break for awhile. Instead of cranking out the next generation of Fritos-flavored Doritos Loco Tacos burritos, how about going back to the drawing board and coming up with something truly innovative? I mean, shit, you really haven’t done much with the taco salad over the last 30 years, and it’s not like there’s a sizable subculture out there of folks clamoring for the return of the old “three olive” enchirito or anything. Hell, it might even be high-time to give the Bell Beefer another go at it. Heck, if BK can re-release the motherfucking Yumbo, I reckon these United States are probably ready for a Taco Bell hamburger.

Regardless, you are on a slippery slope, Bell. Today, it’s Sriracha Quesaritos and Starburst flavored freeze drinks, but tomorrow? You may have fallen so low as to have to offer edible coffee cups for people to give a shit about you.

Is that really what you want, amigos?

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The Burger King YUMBO is Back!

It's a BK blast from the past ... that no one under the age of 45 will have any nostalgic recollections of!

Late last year, I started noticing some peculiar signage on the local Burger King establishments. My initial thought when I saw the little message boards declaring "the YUMBO is back," I imagine, was similar to the reaction of a good 98 percent of the American populace: "what the fuck is a YUMBO?"

As a proud member of that technologically-dependent monoculture known as Gen Y, I had never even heard whispers about a "YUMBO" before. That, I assure you, is for a good reason: the original item was removed from the main Burger King menu line-up forty goddamn years ago.

From a marketing standpoint, this has to be one of the most bizarre fast food promotions in quite some time. While catering to the nostalgia-obsessed masses isn't really anything atypical in the fast/processed food-o-spheres, what is atypical is launching a nostalgia-themed campaign targeting the over 40 demographic. Sure, sure, today's young 'uns (whose only true religion is vapid materialism) can be expected to shill out some extra dough for a six pack of Surge and a box of French Toast Crunch, but trying that same ironic-overconsumption pitch to guys encountering mid-life crisis?  Something tells me these dudes aren't exactly going to be jumping for joy at a Screaming Yellow Zonkers relaunch.

The inexplicable appeal to greying Gen X'ers aside, I suppose the most important thing we can talk about regarding the new ... err, old ... product is, of course, it's taste. Retro-pandering aside, is it actually something worth cramming into your maw while driving 80 miles per hour down the Interstate  -- which, believe it or not, is actually a bona-fide crime in some states?

With a name like a "YUMBO," I was expecting literally anything. I mean, shit, it could be a yam-flavored hamburger, or Whopper topped off with Bubble Yum. Yeah, that might sound a little childish on my part, but we actually live on a planet where KFC is selling hot dog wieners wrapped up in fried chicken to people -- nothing is too absurd to consider these days.

As it turns out, though, the "YUMBO" is actually a fairly unremarkable item -- it's a hot sub, really no different than the kind of hoagie you would get at Subway, albeit without the appeal of telling some dude who probably doesn't know English that you want extra banana peppers on your sandwich.

In terms of ingredients, you get the expected goods. There's two elongated sesame seed buns, a fat wad of sliced ham, a ton of American cheese, iceberg lettuce and mayonnaise. There's probably some additional sauce or spice in the mix too, but odds are, you won't really detect it, unless you really, really have a keen tongue for artificial flavorings.

In terms of mouthfeel, this is a really unusual offering. While the ham and cheese are both fairly warm, the rest of the sandwich is pretty damned chilly, which means you get a somewhat frustrating alternating texture every bite. Overall, I'd say the sandwich itself tastes pretty good, but that warm-cold-warm sensation is a big turn-off. Hey, if I wanted a bi-polar burger, I'd be petitioning McDonalds to  bring back the McDLT.

The "YUMBO" is being advertised as a limited-time only offering, and I assure you, it's most definitely going to stay that way. Despite the fact that they sometimes sell me hamburgers sans the actual hamburger patty, I've always been a pretty big admirer of Burger King, who unlike McDonalds, is fairly willing to try out crazy bullshit from time-to-time. That may also explain why McDoanlds annual sales trump BK's, but this is The Internet Is In America, gosh-damn-it, not Forbes or The Economist.

Of course, the downside to being experimental is that, a lot of times, your experiments just plain suck. Now, I am not saying the "YUMBO" is a bad product by any stretch of the imagination; in fact, if you need a quick nom for lunch, it actually is somewhat flavorful and filling. That said, it really doesn't stand out in any way, shape or form as an individual item. Even the fast food gimmicks that aren't as palatable (the Taco Bell waffle, I'm looking at you) at least have some semblances of individuality to them, which the "YUMBO," unfortunately, just doesn't have. The "Yumbo" is sort of like that one girl in your class who is a solid 5 in looks, but really plain Jane and devoid of quirkiness. I mean, yeah, you probably could make out with her, but you are much more drawn to the 4 with a nose ring that refers to the teacher as crude body parts, or even the 3 with neon purple hair who doesn't wear deodorant and cites Anton Levay in English essays. With fast food -- as it as with high school romances -- it's ultimately a lot more about the experience than it is taste, in any manifestation.

So, the "YUMBO." To conclude: it's OK. Not good, not bad, just sort of there. You probably will not be able to eat eight in a row like most Taco Bell offerings, but it is somewhat flavorful and it will fill you up in a way that doesn't leave you too bloated and/or gassy -- which is actually something of a rarity for contemporary fast food offerings.

If you want to experience this thing, I'd advise hitting up your local BK as soon as possible, because it's probably going to be silently pulled from the national menu any day now, and only time will tell if the item gets relaunched in 2054 as an appeal to today's knee-high fast food aficionados. 

As far as revivalist fast food offerings go, I think we're beginning to tread a little thing here. Outside of full on TCBY-like rebrandings of dormant chains like Burger Chef, our nostalgia-based offerings are whittling away -- and yes, McDonalds probably will give us that pineapple burger thing for Lent before Taco Bell ever thinks about re-releasing its good enchiritos. For shame, America. For shame.

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