There are many ridiculous things to eat in this world. I can't eat them all. I have to prioritize and only grant entrance to those foods that truly speak to me in some way.
Things like Arby's new Meat Mountain.
The Meat Mountain is a secret menu item you can order at Arby's. It contains:
- 2 chicken tenders
- 1.5 oz. of roast turkey
- 1.5 oz. of ham
- 1 slice of Swiss cheese
- 1.5 oz. of corned beef
- 1.5 oz. brisket
- 1.5 oz. of Angus steak
- 1 slice of cheddar cheese
- 1.5 oz. roast beef
- 3 half-strips of bacon
It has an unofficial calorie count of 1,275, which is much lower than I thought it would be.
Like Frankenstein's monster, this sandwich was not meant to be. What originally started as a campaign to get people to associate Arby's with meats other than their roast beef has ended up being an unofficial menu item, and it's all thanks to this poster:
In what will go down as one of the greatest fast-food legends of all time, people began pointing at the poster, requesting that Arby's workers make "that thing there" for their mouth. Because the marketing people at Arby's are smart, they were like "Okay, that will be 10 dollars."
Though the Meat Mountain is technically a "secret" (you can't find it listed on their menu), the people at Arby's are very accommodating when you order one. The manager at my local store was downright enthusiastic, asking to take my picture to share with corporate.
This provided a stark contrast to my Great Secret Menu Experiment of 2013 where I went around to various fast food chains trying to order "secret menu" items of lore. The Quesarito was big then, and Chipotle did make it for me, but they were not happy about it. McDonald's made me a Neapolitan shake, but I had to walk them through it. Burger King's "Mustard Whopper" ended up being a dry burger with two packets of mustard in the bag.
These experiences prepared me for the worst at Arby's. I prefaced my order with "I'm sorry to do this to you," but shouldn't have; I was met with no resistance whatsoever. They cheerfully made my "sandwich" -- it seems wrong to call it that -- weighing out my meat slices with care. I was then presented with a creation so huge, it required a firm two-handed grip at all times.
I unwrapped my challenge and paused for a minute to take it all in.
I unhinged my jaw and took a bite as the store manager (and my husband) snapped pictures.
It was surprisingly tasty. I've always enjoyed an Arby's roast beef now and again, but was worried about the other ingredients.
I expected this to be a mass of over-salted meat, with each type being indistinguishable from the next, but I was able to taste each one in all of its glory. The roast beef was still my favorite, but it played well with others. One would think that the fried chicken or bacon would dominate, but relatively even proportions kept each flavor playing off the next.
I didn't eat the whole thing. To be honest, I had just woken up due to a particularly bad bout of insomnia the night before, and -- while I was enjoying my expedition up Meat Mountain -- I wouldn't recommend this as a breakfast item.
Despite how large this sandwich is, it actually holds together pretty well. It requires two hands to eat, but you can set it down and pick it back up without the whole thing falling apart.
It's a pricier item for Arby's, but given the fact that it could feed at least three people, it's actually not that bad of a deal.
As far as stunt food goes, I think this is one of the better options. On a scale from "1 to Doritos Taco", I give it a 9.