As Wendy’s wanton displays of indulgence have thus far sullied the first week of Lent (during which my latent Catholic genes become hypersensitive to all acts of hubris, malarkey, and blatantly unnecessary pompousness), I was hoping that there would be at least one sandwich that proved to be one dilly of a humdinger to win my approval. Wendy’s will be quite happy to know that the Maple Bacon Chicken Croissant succeeded, and in spades.
As you might have surmised, I had exceptionally low expectations for the Breakfast Baconator, which is advertised on the Wendy’s website as “Grilled sausage, American cheese, Applewood smoked bacon, a fresh-cracked grade A egg, (deep breath) more cheese and more bacon all covered in swiss cheese sauce. Don’t just break your fast. Destroy it.” Nevertheless, I persisted.
我对温迪(Wendy)的霜冻ccino感到伤害,但实际上,我只是寄予了希望。我很兴奋,甚至!With all the poor Wendy’s experiences I’ve had in the past, one thing that’s never let me down is the inimitable Frosty, which is not quite a milkshake, not quite ice cream, and, though its ingredients are public for all the world to see, not quite like anything else I’ve ever tasted. The Frosty is better on French Fries than ketchup (especially if you make two stops and get your fries from the closest McDonald’s... #WendysBreakfastBattle). I was expecting the Frosty-ccino to be a trashy affogato, rich with Frosty flavor. Instead, I got cold brew coffee, a bit of vanilla Frosty creamer, and ice. Lots and lots of ice. If it takes you longer than three minutes to drink your coffee, what Wendy’s delivers is a large cup of cold, beige water that you’ll continue to drink since, well, you paid for it—but each sip will remind you how thoroughly you’ve been hoodwinked. The Vanilla Frosty-ccino tastes of coffee, arrogance, and betrayal, and it will be a long time before my heart heals enough to give Wendy’s yet another chance. (Or as long as it takes to develop another craving for the Maple Bacon Chicken Croissant.)