SIX YEARS AGO, I lamented the fact that, because of the pressures exerted by the dieting community, McDonald’s had changed the recipe for its apple pie. What once was a deep-fried, golden crust containing generous chunks of apple in a molten-hot, syrupy sweet filling became a dried-up, baked casket concealing a filmy apple paste and not too many apples. Was this what it had all come down to? The extinction of all things flavorful, for the sake of those who would rather eat tasteless crackers than go for a run and have a balanced diet?
Luckily this was not the case. Sales of a variety of health snacks have gone down while the consumption of steaks has gone up. But one is always wary that the food Nazis will return. Which was the first thing that ran through my mind when I learned that Burger King had introduced a new sandwich called the BK Veggie–the first-ever veggie burger to be sold nationwide by a fast-food chain. I started to panic. Would the venerable Home of the Whopper soon become Home of the Meatless Substitute?
It turns out the BK Veggie is one of 14 new products being rolled out in a promotional campaign marking the 45th birthday of the Whopper–you know, that mouth-watering, finger-licking, juice-dripping burger with the trademark flame-broiled 4-ounce beef patty. But while the other products, including a Whopper with bacon and cheddar and a Chicken Whopper, are worthy variations of the original, the Veggie seems to be its antithesis. As one newspaper headline read, “One burger, hold the meat.”
The BK Veggie consists of your normal sesame-seed heel and crown, lettuce, tomato, and low-fat mayonnaise, but conceals a flame-broiled veggie patty made of mushrooms, water chestnuts, vegetables, brown rice, and rolled oats–in other words, nothing. And that nothing comes to 370 calories and 10 grams of fat (compared to the Whopper, which contains a whopping 680 calories and 39 grams of fat). Still, I had to find out for myself just how bad this could be.
At the Burger King in Rosslyn, Virginia, it looks like the BK Veggie has yet to arrive. None of the posters on the windows mention it. Instead, they read, “Your One and Only Whopper,” “At Burger King You Got It!” (their new slogan), and “New King Supreme” (their answer to the Big Mac, with its own special sauce). On the inside, I can only find one ad for the Veggie, wedged in between the Croissanwich and the new Eggwich Muffin (again, their answer to McDonald’s Egg McMuffin).
Because I am an unrepentant meat-eater, I invited an acquaintance, Jay Michney, to sample it and provide a less-biased critique. Jay is an education consultant who develops testing and diagnosis for the learning disabled and works with charter schools, though that’s not the reason I’ve invited him; he also happens to be one of the few vegetarians I know. To be specific, Jay is an ovolacto–he doesn’t have a problem with leather and will consume dairy products. He gave up meat primarily for environmental reasons. His brother gave him the book “Diet for a Small Planet,” and he’s never gone back (unlike his brother, who is no longer a vegetarian). Jay also comes armed with statistics, on laminated pages, regarding the destruction of our lands because of cattle–the amount of space needed, the amount of grain eaten, and water (he says it takes 2,500 gallons of water to produce a single pound of meat). I don’t have my counter-statistics from the cattle industry to challenge him, so I nod and stare sadly at our meals.
Both of us ordered the BK Veggie and fries (I ordered a Junior Whopper as backup) and to be honest, it didn’t look half bad. Then I took the first bite. Initially, it was almost as if I were eating a normal hamburger, what with the same bun and lettuce and tomato and mayonnaise that is only slightly ambiguous. But then I got to the patty. Yes, you can tell it’s been flame-broiled, but as soon as you bite through, it falls apart like a house of cards. Suddenly it’s not a flame-broiled patty–it’s mushrooms, water chestnuts, vegetables, brown rice, and rolled oats swirling in your mouth, not knowing what to do or why they’re even there.
Jay’s reaction, on the other hand, was less reactionary. He took his bite and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s pretty much what I was expecting,” he says. “It’s not terrible-tasting but not great either.” (It should be noted that the BK Veggie is not a vegetarian burger in the Vegan sense–mayonnaise does contain eggs and the patty shares the grill with other meats.) More important than the taste, however, is its convenience.
Burger King is not marketing this sandwich to rival its meatburgers. Rather, as the Atlanta Journal-Constitution reported, “The company introduced the BK Veggie . . . to eliminate the ‘veto vote’–people who believe the chain offers nothing for them and will steer a car full of burger lovers elsewhere.” Jay Michney agrees: “It’s edible, but in terms of convenience, it’s great. I hate having it become a big deal because I’m a vegetarian. It’s a general pain and people get upset–they start asking you why you don’t eat meat. Where do you get your protein? What’s wrong with you?” (sort of like the nondrinker who, rather than make a scene, orders a Buckler or O’Doul’s). But now, if a group decides to go to Burger King, Jay won’t mutiny.
With 5 percent of America (13 million people) having gone vegetarian, Burger King is hoping to get an edge over McDonald’s–which has about 4,600 more stores than BK. Eventually, the Golden Arches may go national with its own McVeggie (already available in some regions). But when it does, don’t panic. Alongside these alternatives, there will be even more offerings for us carnivores. Already, there’s the Bacon-Cheddar Whopper. (Talk about finding a way to improve on a classic. You can put two strips of bacon on anything and suddenly you’ve got yourself a party: Bacon on your cheeseburger, bacon on your pizza, tuck a little bacon in your omelet, bacon on your fried peanut butter sandwich. But I digress.) And this summer Burger King will roll out the Back Porch Griller, a sandwich with even more beef than the Whopper.
As I finished off my BK Veggie in about four bites, Jay listed a few more statistics. I unwrapped my Junior Whopper backup (redundancy being the hallmark of good military planning and smart eating) and he mentioned that the steer population produces twice as much excrement as humans. I stopped for a second, thinking about what that means (all that methane!), and glanced at my sandwich, contemplating what it has wrought. But I was weak. The aroma of the flame-broiled Whopper was overwhelming. The patty was bursting with flavor, saying, “Welcome back, son.”
Jay didn’t seem bothered as I devoured my Junior Whopper. (After all, his girlfriend still eats meat.) In a way, it’s a little miracle that meat-eaters and vegetarians can come together and eat peacefully–at the Home of the Whopper no less.
Victorino Matus is an assistant managing editor at The Weekly Standard.
