The Washington Post – In preparation for the Double Big Mac’s latest assault on McDonald’s menus this week, I rolled my car through a local drive-through to refresh my memory about the signature sandwich.
When I plucked the Big Mac from its cardboard coffin, I was struck by something I hadn’t noticed before:
The burger felt tiny in my hands, as if this were some runt cousin to the real Mac daddy.
I was assured from McDonald’s corporate office that the Big Mac is not the latest victim of shrinkflation. Its size has not changed.
Regardless, the little Big Mac I had that night didn’t strike me as a loaf of bread hiding two desiccated slivers of ground beef. Yes, the sandwich was dominated by the flavors of pickle brine, onion and special sauce.
“Based on my calculations, my Big Mac was about 30 percent beef, and the double meat variation about 44 percent.”
But those were quickly followed by the Big Mac’s softer elements: bun, cheese and those twin pucks of beef, their whisper of ruminant fat just enough to trick the brain into thinking you’re locked in battle with a real five-napkin burger, minus the juices dripping down your arm.
I polished that Big Mac off in about four bites and wondered where the rest was.
Two days later, I pulled up to the drive-through window again to order a pair of Double Big Macs, which debuted in 1993 and are available again for a limited time.
(You might recall that this four-patty Big Mac made a brief appearance on menus in March 2020 before the pandemic broke our supply chain into a million pieces.)
For a real-time comparison, I also ordered another regular Big Mac. This was done in the name of science. …