On the way to work last week we passed a McDonalds, and stopped at a red light long enough to read the offer "2 Big Macs for $4". We laughed about how ridiculously cheap that was, then admitted that looking at a picture of a Big Mac made us want to eat a Big Mac, like we did in the old days before they started making documentaries about food. We did not eat a Big Mac, at least not then, as then was 10 am and we'd just come from the gym. Our virtue and goodness were too strong for a promotional poster to overcome.
We're enthusiastic omnivores at Dirty Yoga Co., but we've long since given up eating at places like McDonalds for all the usual reasons. We don't think that food should be faster than a speeding locomotive, we think the meat we eat should be humanely treated and hugged to death, we don't want the ingredients of our meals (unless they are exotic and expensive enough to warrant it) to have more frequent flyer miles than we do, and we like our food not to be high-fructose-corn-syrup putty made into food shapes, and we strongly believe our meals ought to contain, well, food.
No fast food except in cases of dire emergency. A dire emergency for people of our demographic group is, say, being stuck in an airport with nothing else to eat and no one you know to see what you do eat. Or late night at a party you don't want to leave where you've had too much to drink and not enough to eat and, lo and behold, someone you'll forever think well of turns up with a bucket of fried chicken.
So that was that. Except it wasn't. We really wanted a Big Mac. Several days later, we still did. An elaborate plan formed in our little minds. We knew exactly what went into a Big Mac thanks to that old advertising jingle. Surely, if we made a Big Mac ourselves, out of cuddled grassfed beef, locally raised organic lettuce and onion, it wouldn't be so bad. There was nothing we could do about the hamburger buns (artisanal bread does not a Big Mac make), the Kraft Thousand Island Dressing, or the soft, orange, sliced cheese categorized as "American", but surely, these things on their own, when purchased ironically from a gourmet supermarket, were not egregious.
Next thing we knew we were barbecuing patties, toasting sesame seed buns, slicing pickles, smearing "special sauce", and shamelessly tucking into our homemade "Big Macs" on the deck, in the bright, unseasonal sunshine, and enjoying it more than we've enjoyed more deserving meals.
If you'd like to make a Big Mac too, we documented the process for you:
How to Make a Big Mac: A Step-by-Step Guide (Seriously)
If you just want to eat a Big Mac, and you can live with the first-world guilt, buying one is far cheaper and quicker (though not nearly as much fun, depending, of course, on your idea of fun).
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