The Burger King Halloween Whopper!

It's one of the most remarkable seasonal items to come along in quite some time ... and also, it appears to turn your turds teal. 

By: Jimbo X
JimboXAmerican@gmail.com
@Jimbo__X

In 2014, Burger King unveiled not just one but two limited-time-only "black Whoppers" in Japan -- both of which featured bamboo charcoal-darkened cheese and a heaping helping of squid ink. 

Even in a world where one can walk into a store and buy Oreos-flavored Oreos, that idea might just be a bit too weird for Obama's America. Nonetheless, the core concept -- a big, midnight-hued hamburger -- was something that certainly appealed to today's fast-food-loving masses. After all, this is a country that gobbled up a hot dog and potato chip-stuffed sammich by the truckload over the summer ... a chemically dyed bun is relatively mundane in comparison. 

Eschewing the squid ink, the Americanized "black Whopper" is instead imbued with A1 steak sauce, which is not only "baked" into the buns, but also generously splashed all over your meats, cheeses and veggies wedged in between them.

Burger King is no doubt promoting the shit (and more on that, literally, a bit later) heavily. They've even modified their time-honored paper-crowns to feature a more foreboding, Day of the Dead-like design. Granted, the thing does look more than a little out of place next to the overpriced glass-case cookies and Chicken Fries cut-outs, but then again, it is Halloween -- normalcy is not expected, nor necessarily wanted. 

As a dude with an unabashed admiration of both the All Hallow's Eve season and mass-marketed, terribly unhealthy food stuffs (with a minor in consumer marketing psychology), of course I wanted to give the newfangled "Ha1loween Whopper" a try. (You see what they did there? By changing the "al" following the H in "Halloween" to the name of product co-sponsor "A1," Burger King actually promotes a portmanteau, if you will, of the steak sauce provider and ties it back into the seasonal theme via a thematically appropriate pun. So yeah, some dude who went to Harvard probably got paid $800,000 to dream that one up.) Alas, beyond the flashy, in-house digital screen advertisements and all of the neat cardboard accouterments, did the product itself actually live up to all of the highfalutin hype? 

(And yes, the fully assembled crown doth indeed look, as the kids today say it, tubular and quite bitchin'.)

In terms of sheer aesthetics, this thing is a five-star, 10-out-of-10, walk-off-grand slam. It's not just that Burger King is selling a limited-time-only variation of their marquee product in a seasonally-fitting onyx casing, it's also the way in which the product is presented, too. If the bones-themed Burger King crowns weren't enough to get you in the autumnal mood, the fucking wrapper would, for sure...

Holy shit, you literally have to unwrap a mummy to eat it. It's such an incredibly small -- and frankly, a functionally unnecessary detail -- but it just adds so much to the overall experience. All in all, this wrapper might just be my favorite thing about the product as a whole -- I totally didn't expect to peer into my paper bag and find a freaking Universal Monster peeping back at me, and for that, I applaud Burger King to no end.

But, what about the burger itself? Well, let's take a closer look at the product, why don't we? 

For those wondering, yes, this thing is very much a traditional Whopper, which tastes indistinguishable from the daily menu item that is devoured en masse throughout America. Strangely, the A1 mix-in doesn't really alter the taste of the burger all that much. In fact, it took about three or four big bites before I even noticed that it had a particularly steak saucy texture and taste to it. 

It's really hard to tell from the photographs, but really, the bun itself isn't 100 percent black. In fact, it's actually more of a dark brown M&M color, but it's kind of hard to mass-market "the all-new dark auburn Whopper," I take it. Taste-wise, it does seem to feel a little soggier and softer than your standard sesame seed bun, but at the same time, I didn't really detect a particularly strong A1 vibe, either. 

No matter your take on the culinary desirability of such a product, there is no denying that it takes some time to adjust to it. Perhaps owing to generations and generations of white patriarchy-fueled racism, we've kind of been conditioned to not find black foodstuffs attractive. Sure, you can say that's out of indisputable molecular biology and the fact that most rotten and fungal-infected foods turn black, but I know systematic prejudice when I see it, smell it and taste it. (Also, in the above photo, the more I stare at it, the more it resembles one of the titular creatures from Alien puking up a Big Mac. I honestly have no idea if that's points off, or points for.) 

And, of course, you're interior meal is the expected jumble of iceberg lettuce, thinly sliced tomatoes, non-fried onion rings, mayonnaise and char-grilled beef, topped off by a dainty dollop of A1 paste. So yeah, if you like the basic Whopper -- and just as long as you don't have a severe aversion to steak sauce -- you will probably enjoy this one quite a bit. Also, do you think that the steak sauce theme is perhaps an oblique homage to blood-soaked slasher favorites like Friday the 13th and Halloween? Eh ... probably not. 

Which brings us to that which cannot be ignored regarding the Halloween Whopper: namely, the fact that it turns your feces a nice bluish-green hue after digesting them (Warning: this shit ... literally ... is NSFW.) 

Fundamentally, this is nothing new with food coloring-tinted items (lest we forget the famed Boo Berry Spatters, which are pretty much a seasonal hallmark up there with It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown around my parts.) Alas, it appears that not that many Americans are not as familiar with such a phenomenon ... and perhaps it is a brilliant marketing move on Burger King's part to expand the product's penetration in the national (sub?)conscious. [An interesting side note: apparently, the burger's squid ink counterpart in Japan didn't result in the same external consequences.]

Considering the deluge of extra media attention that little "feature" has afforded BK, methinks it's not an altogether unplanned part of the P.R. putsch ... you just know somebody had to have noticed something in the test market runs (pun, oh my god, so intended)and figured it would make for some incredible after-market word of mouth advertising. 

"Come try the all-new, limited-edition Halloween Whopper, kiddos," I imagine one of the tongue-in-cheek early slogans beginning, "it's just as much fun coming out as it is going in!

BONUS HAPPY GOOD TIME FUN EXTRA ADDITIONAL MATERIAL!

The Burger King Pumpkin Spice Oreos Milkshake!

You really can't have a special, seasonal, limited-edition food product without also having a corresponding seasonal, limited-edition beverage to accompany it. I think it is in the Bill of Rights somewhere, between that part about not having to let British soldiers sleep in your house and black people only counting as 66.7 percent people in the electorate. 


Which brings us to BK's Pumpkin Spice Oreos Milkshake, which is ... well, pretty much exactly what it sounds like. 

Now, from the nomenclature, you may be tempted to regard this is a special dairy-dessert comprised of bits of the proprietary, seasonal Pumpkin Spice Oreos. Alas, if you though that, you would be wrong as a mother fucker, as this product is actually a standard vanilla milkshake, loaded with ample bits of crumbled up sandwich cookie, and tinted orange with an unusual pumpkin spice-like fluid.

I know this is going to sound like the most backhanded compliment ever, but this thing tastes just like a delicious pumpkin spice-scented candle. Go ahead, walk into a Pier One or a Yankee Candle, get a whiff of one of their autumnal-themed wax decorations, and slurp on this bad boy, and just tell me they aren't one and the same, chemically. While the general idea of sucking down a milkshake that kind of tastes like a puree of incense and air freshener may sound like a thumbs down review, it's actually far from it: somehow, someway, Burger King has mass produced one of the yummiest, tastiest foodstuffs ever that doesn't actually taste like it should be edible whatsoever.

It's a controversial perspective, to be sure, but I reckon I liked this here milkshake variation ... which, depending on the lighting, looks almost indistinguishable from the gaseous surface of Jupiter ... is an even better seasonal tie-in product than the Halloween Whopper. Sure, the minstrel-show burger is cool and all, but its really nothing more than the same old same old, just dyed a different color. This, on the other hand, tastes unlike any fast food beverage I have ever slaked upon. As mystifying and bewildering as the Halloween Whopper may be, this is the enigmatic, and strangely unheralded, L.T.O. food item that Burger King ought to be marketing the hell out of in the run-up to Oct. 31. 

Give it a try if you haven't, fellow fast food connoisseurs ... this thing is destined to become a cult favorite in a few years time. 

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The Fast Food Burgers of Summer 2015!

A heartfelt tribute to all of the big chain burgers that filled our summer with so much wonder and whimsy. That, and cholesterol. A whole lot of cholesterol. 

About a year or so ago, I gave up on being a vegetarian. This, after a good seven-year stint as a tofu-chewing, black-bean-burger-chomping, protein-deficient abstainer of steaks, hot dogs, nuggets and tenders of all varieties. Like a wayfaring sailor who just got shore leave after years of cruising the world's oceans, I immediately transformed into an omnivorous whirlwind, putting down virtually every ham sandwich and pork taco people offered me. Of course, I was never one of those animal rights, moralistic vegetarians; I was simply doing it for the health benefits, which I've come to find out, really aren't that beneficial at all.

To be fair, it took me some time to readjust to beef, chicken and pig. At first, the flavors and textures kind of weirded me out, but before long, my taste buds reverted back to food-hetero, and I was once again enjoying the sizable platter of no-longer-off-limits foodstuffs before me. And this summer? It was no doubt a good couple of months to be a meat-eatin' glutton.

From Memorial Day onward, we've just been inundated with limited-time-only, special-edition fast-food burgers. Probably the biggest one of the summer -- and I mean that both figuratively and literally -- was the "Most American Thickburger" from Hardee's. While that monstrosity of a foodstuff remains the undisputed seasonal champion of excess, there were still plenty of other summer-only burgers out there that warrant a fond memorium. Here's a look back at three of the season's most noteworthy, big-chain, limited-time-only offerings -- i.e., the burgers that made our hearts flutter (likely, from too much grease) all summer-long.

ITEM NUMBER ONE:

Wendy's Fresco Jalapeno Chicken Sandwich 

(with Ghost Pepper Fries) 

I've never really been a big fan of Wendy's, although I would immensely enjoy making out with that one red-headed chick in the contemporary commercials. Alas, the brainchild of Dave Thomas has never really attracted me the way other fast food establishments have -- I think it may be some sort of subconscious vendetta I have for the discontinuation of the SuperBar, but I'm not certain.

This meal consisted of two offerings: the Fresco Jalapeno Chicken Sandwich main event and the Ghost Pepper Fries undercarder. As the names would imply, the appeal of the items is that they -- unlike those puny, paltry offerings at other burger chains -- are actually hot as hell. As in, actually spicy, and not that safe "white person" spicy that Taco Bell has been giving us for years, up until the recent release of the "Diablo" sauce.

The sandwich itself felt pretty heavy. I think it was on a toasted sourdough bun, which definitely gave it an advantage from the get-go. Nor was the burger that greasy, which, traditionally, has been a big problem with sauce-soaked sandwiches of the sort.

Content-wise, we get a pretty good amount of stuff to work with here. The fried chicken patty is topped with Mexi-Cheese, which is topped by red onions, jalapeno shavings and drenched in the house "spicy sauce," which was ALMOST like Taco Bell's proprietary chipotle dressing, but not quite. 

Overall, I'd say this was a pretty good little burger. I tend to prefer beef patties to chicken patties, but all of the ingredients gelled together quite well. Unfortunately, despite the promise of a super-spicy burger, this sandwich was a little bit too lukewarm for my liking. It had a certain zesty kick, no doubt, but I was hoping for a bigger bite. Sigh ... when will these multi-million-a-year chains FINALLY give us something truly spicy to nom on?

I had the same problem with the ghost pepper fries. The "ghost pepper sauce" and jalapeno coated potato slices were tasty, but spicy? Only a little, I am afraid. Of course, you can always douse the stuff in Tapatio, but doesn't that defeat the whole purpose of buying a stand-alone burger that promises it can do "hot" all by itself? 

ITEM NUMBER TWO:

McDonald's Steakhouse Sirloin Third Pound Burger

(with Mozzarella Sticks) 

Apparently, McDonalds -- pretty much the 800 pound gorilla of the American fast food industrial complex -- is sweating bullets over the Gen Y demographic, as the number of Millennials devouring their deep-fried gunk and slop continues to decline. To combat their less than sterling reputation with the iPad Generation, Mickie D's has tried a number of publicity stunts as of late, including customizable burger booths in select markets. Their other big response has been the release of a new line of "gourmet" burgers, which are supposed to be of a much higher quality than your run-of-the-mill fast food burger ... which isn't self-defeating as a marketing ploy, whatsoever.

Over the summer, McDonalds launched a trifecta of "Sirloin Third Pound Burgers." The advertising reminded me quite a bit of the old "Arch Deluxe" marketing bonanza from the late 1990s, complete with the co-option of kids-branded mascots as adult spokescharacters. Whether or not the food was any good is really an aside here; the advertising blitzkrieg for the product actually had women across America debating whether or not they would fuck the Hamburglar, which makes it all worthwhile to me.

At $4.99 a burger, the products were much higher in cost than your typical McDonalds menu item. Since only a fat-ass beyond words would actually plunk down $15 USD to try all three, I decided to use the "Steakhouse" permutation as my representative product.

Right off the bat, the thing was heavy -- as in, noticeably heavier than a Big Mac. If anything, I would hypothesize that the "third-pounder" burgers may weigh even more than that, potentially reaching the coveted half-pound cut-off pound. I've had many half-pound cheesy-bean-and-rice burritos in my day, and I can tell you point-blank this thing is just as heavy -- if not even heavier -- than that beloved Taco Bell offering.

I couldn't really complain about the toppings, either. You got a big, melted hunk of Swiss cheese on top of your patty, and on top of that you got a metric ton of grilled onions and mushrooms. The aroma was very delectable, although the aesthetic in and of itself is somewhat unappetizing; if you look at that photo long enough, I assure you it begins resembling a giant mound of mangled Redman chewing tobacco. Alas, the burger itself was pretty tasty, although for all of the hubbub about the "gourmet" beef, the patty itself tasted pretty much the same thing as your standard McDonalds burger, just a little bit bigger and slightly juicier. 

The thing that really piqued my interest on my last Mickie D's run, however, was a new appetizer item -- goddamn breaded mozzarella cheese sticks. The fact that they came in a cardboard box clearly intended for chicken nuggets -- with a coffee sticker slapped on top of it to obscure the fact -- makes it a million times better.

Now, I'm no sociologist, but I noticed two interesting cultural themes at the local McDonalds restaurant (I will get back to the second point at the end of the article.) First off, the calories are all over the place -- plastered on the signage, the little video boards, on the wrappings of the products themselves, etc -- which seems to indicate that even fast food lardasses at least want to superficially care about what they are putting in their bodies. My favorite thing about this is how the company practically invented their own hieroglyphic language to describe what "fat" and "carbohydrates" are to laypeople (my personal favorite? It has to be the little emblem for "sodium," which if I am not mistaken, is a doughnut with a chunk taken out of it.) Also, notice the mysterious absence of any nutritional information regarding sugar content -- surely, that has to be a lone typographical error, right?

As far as the cheese sticks themselves, there's really not a whole lot to say. You get three fairly-well-sized appetizers for just a dollar. Fundamentally, they are no better in taste or texture than most of your frozen food sticks, but once again -- guys, you can buy mozzarella sticks at McDonald's now. What's next, Burger King offering tacos?

Oh, and I would be remiss if I didn't touch upon the chain's in-house marinara sauce. If there's precious little to say about their cheese sticks, there's even less words I can say about this. It's a nice sauce, overall, I suppose, but nothing really all that special. That, and it appears to include beet juice, for "color." Affirmative vegetable action, I take it? 

ITEM NUMBER THREE:

Burger King's Spicy Whopper

(with Chicken Fries) 

And lastly, we come to Burger King, which is we all know by now, is the TNA Wrestling equivalent of the American fast food burger industry. They try REAL hard to imitate the top dog in the field, and when they strike out on their own and try to execute a somewhat original idea? Yeah, most of the time, the results are the mot spectacular kind of failure you can imagine.

That said, how can you possibly fuck up a Whopper? It's the one consistently good thing the chain has had going for it over the last few decades. You know, sort of like how Sebastian Janikowski has been the one shining spot on an abysmal Oakland Raiders squad since before George W. Bush invaded Iraq. You just relish the one thing you get right, and try to avoid sitting the rest of the house on fire in the process.

Which brings us to the "Spicy Whopper." What makes it a "Spicy Whopper," you may be wondering? Jalapeno slices? Seasoned beef? Maybe some Monterrey Jack Cheese?

The correct answer? None of the above, as the chain simply decided to squeeze a shit load of buffalo ranch sauce over a standard Whopper and called it "good." You know, I try not piss all over the restaurant, but when they are constantly spitting out lazy, half-hearted products like this, it is awfully hard to not give them a fine lambasting.

Alas, there is at least one positive from Camp BK to discuss. Earlier this year, the chain decided to make the seasonal favorite Chicken Fries a full-fledged, year-round item. This news excited me a great deal, up until the moment I realized "holy shit, I've never actually tried those things before. What exactly am I celebrating for, exactly?"

The packaging itself is probably the best thing about the product. Not only does the front box artwork give you one of the best psychedelic, post-Warholian pieces of pop art ever mass commercialized, the interior of the package includes one of the most oblique pop cultural nods I have ever seen from a multi-million-dollar-a-year business. There's a lot of things you expect from your local fast food provider, but lyrical odes to the poetic genius of Freak Nasty isn't really one of them. 

So, uh, what are chicken fries, exactly? Well, they are basically really, really thin chicken tenders, roughly the same size as your average fast food fry. Right off the bat, I have to warn you folks that these things are sublimely salty -- if you have any inclination towards dry mouth, be sure to order an extra large Slurpee to accompany your appetizer.

Also, these things are extremely phallic. At times, I didn't know whether I was chowing down on an anorexic nugget or ingesting E.T.'s finger ... and we ALL know Spielberg REALLY meant by that, don't we? (Fun Fact: Did you know that Slipknot once sued Burger King over a chicken fries ad featuring a very, very familiar looking shock rock ensemble? It's perhaps worth noting that same ad campaign drew some  additional controversy, as its website included photographs of women stating they "loved the coq.")

What a whirlwind of grub experiences this summer, eh kids? We tried what McDonalds thought gourmet tasted like (salty), what BK considered "spicy" (something that completely wasn't) and what Wendy's considered "fresco" (something battered in grease and doused in oily dressing.)

So, earlier, I said something about McDonalds providing a weird sociocultural experience for me. Well, to roll back to that, have you ever noticed how fast food restaurants seem to draw specific ethnic groups? For example, at the local McDonalds, nearly 90 percent of the restaurant -- diners and employees included -- were Hispanic, while at Burger King, the ratio was about 90 percent black. Wendy's had a more multicultural blend, but at the same time, it seemed to me that patrons that day tended to skew towards a much older crowd ... like, in their 60s and shit. It never really dawned on me before, but in my neck of the woods, the fast food establishments seem to almost be self-segregated. The local Chick-Fil-A is almost entirely middle-to-upper class white, while Hardee's is frequented almost entirely by white folks who look like they were lifted out of an episode of "Cops," circa 1991. And for reasons I still can't wrap my head around, there are a TON of Asian kids hanging out at the nearest Dairy Queen. That, and Bruster's ... is there some sort of newfangled stereotype out there nobody told me about, involving the Asiatic peoples and milk products?

Anyhoo, that's a story for a different day, I suppose. Probably my favorite thing about this stupid little exercise in consumer excess was that during the Burger King trip, some dude behind me got tired of waiting in line and said "you motherfuckers don't deserve $15 an hour!" and left. I don't know why, but I still find myself laughing about that. It's usually at the most inappropriate times, too -- like whenever I'm fucking standing in line at ANY fast food restaurant now.

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