Hunger is the Best Arby’s Sauce

Consuming an Arby's DEEP FRIED TURKEY CLUB sandwich on Thanksgiving Eve

LOOK, NOBODY HERE at Hmm Weekly is trying to convince you to go eat an Arby’s®, this is more along the lines of reporting the occurrence of a happy fast-food surprise.

Arby’s is famous for their roast beef sandwich, but it’s roast beef the way a can of Chef Boyardee is a spaghetti meal. It’s a thing that dials in an approximation of a food experience; it’s not The Thing Itself. I have observed a slice of Arby’s roast beef having a bubble in it, and that’s because it is an Arby’s. You want a real roast beef, go a deli. This is a thing inspired by a thing, and most importantly, it’s not a cheeseburger.

I have been seeing advertisements under the umbrella of the very good communication ad campaign slogan ARBY’S: WE HAVE THE MEATS, where they tout the different types of meat you can get on a sandwich. Right now there are announcements for an assortment of “limited time” fried turkey sandwiches. Arby’s cracked the code on marketing fast food turkey: DEEP FRIED.

This iteration of their campaign totally got to me, as opposed to a previous series of Arby’s spots on TV which had a character who was supposed to be a chef-type and they were breaking down the roster of deli-style sandwiches. I wasn’t going for it. Don’t show me some fake-ass chef WHO I WILL NEVER SEE IN AN ARBY’S and expect me to believe they’re supervising the sandwiches. Bull fucking shit.

This DEEP FRIED TURKEY thing, though, all they show is the product. At this point in American Human Evolution, we all know that the food item we see in a picture on the teevee or the annoying banner ad we have to swat down off a web site is not what’s gonna show up in the bag that gets handed to us at the distribution node of the food emitter.

So I knew the sandwich would not look like the serving suggestion, but the case Arby’s made for DEEP FRIED TURKEY was what got me: WE HAZ A TURKEY BETTER THAN TURKEY. That’s a FEATURE and an ADVANTAGE. You got me, Arby’s, you got me for the price of one sandwich.

I spotted Arby’s a few points; I skipped breakfast, and I didn’t get to buy a sandwich until 3 p.m., so I was starving. I ordered the turkey product that was the least like Thanksgiving, the turkey club-type item, which in the regular “meal” configuration includes a drink and some curly fries, and set me back about nine bucks, whoa.

I always forget how solid the Arby’s curly fries are, they are the perfect alternative to McDonalds fries, and like the McD fries, you gotta eat ‘em while they are hot. Also, the sheer spectacle of some of the individual fries, I found one that was the size of the container. Dinner and a show!

The sandwich, as expected, looked a little smushed, a little messy—but messy, sometimes it signals: TASTES GOOD. This may have been my hunger speaking to me.

I didn’t ask for any extra sauces, I went in on it as assembled, and in this case it was outstanding, a hot turkey club-style sandwich with bacon, shreddy lettuce, tomato slices, mayo, and a thing that generally puzzles me on club sandwiches even though it is common: cheese. I don’t know why cheese seems incongruous to me when it’s in a club sandwich, but anyway, the cheese worked. I think it mighta been cheese-gloop and not a slice of cheese, but whatever, it tied the whole thing together into savory bites.

The turkey expressed itself with salty oily fatness, in the manner of a good fried item. The sandwich as a whole was wonderfully consistent and satisfying. Lotsa times you get a sandwich or a burrito or something and you end up with a dead spot, a bite that’s all bread or only the dressing of the sandwich and not the main event. This sandwich had zero dead spots. The bread was great, it was a roll, with just enough substance to hold up to what it was holding, and it was pleasantly yeasty. Plus, no bubbles in the turkey meat!

When I was ordering, it was a fun experience to realize I was at the drive-up window of a combination 7-Eleven/Arby’s.

Good sandwich! Would eat again!