HUMOR

By Andrew Eastep

The cheeseburger is one of the most hotly debated topics in American gastronomy. Many great chefs have tried and failed to transform the American classic into something worthy of the title of gourmet eating. Richmond itself is home to some revolutionary stabs at reinventing the cheeseburger, with restaurants like Burger Bach and Carytown Burgers and Fries lining the city streets.

But a truly great sandwich lies in the most unassuming places: a small Goochland burger joint apparently called “McDonald’s.”

I had admittedly never heard of McDonald’s up until this review. As a world-renowned food critic*, I consider it my responsibility to be aware of all the newest trends in haute American eateries, so you can imagine my surprise to find out that I had missed a local classic. 

Tucked away in the alcoves of the countryside between gas stations and weekly farmers’ markets, though, it’s easy to see why it wouldn’t be on most people’s radar. 

Granted, McDonald’s does seem to be a classic amongst the Goochland locality. When I had asked those who lived in Goochland whether or not they had heard of McDonald’s, they responded with, “How have you never heard of McDonald’s?” or “Have you been living under a rock?” which only assured me of the restaurant’s local ubiquity.

Upon arriving at McDonald’s, I’m immediately met with their innovation in the medium of food delivery. You see, McDonald’s employs this genius system referred to as the “Drive-Thru,” a playful misspelling of the phrase “drive through,” in reference to the fact that you drive through the ordering process without leaving your vehicle. 

I can only imagine that this means of food delivery was a response to the contactless pickup renaissance initiated by the pandemic last spring. Leave it to the small businesses to find creative ways to handle strife.

The Big Mac packaging.

Wanting to have a full McDonald’s experience, I ordered their signature sandwich: The Big Mac, which is described as “two all beef-patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, tomatoes, onions, on a sesame seed bun.” I was surprised to hear that the menu item has become so popular that locals have developed something of an anthem listing off the ingredients.

I was somewhat appalled by the seemingly lackluster appearance of the Big Mac. It features no particularly special accoutrements; what is referred to as “special sauce” seems to be merely a Thousand Island dressing. You might even be tempted to pose the question “Where is the beef?” But therein lies the genius, does it not?

The taste sensation is pure, the blend of tangy relish and soft American pirouette into this delicately choreographed dance. Meat is tender, bordering on dry, but just enough to let the sourness of the pickles and onions carry you along for the ride.

The Big Mac.

While most hamburger chefs nowadays try to overwhelm the diner by crafting a Stravinsky ballet, McDonald’s Big Mac is comfortable coasting along like Beethoven’s Sixth. There is no need for anything special, and I think that’s reflected in the restaurant’s humble beginnings. It’s not flashy like its competition; lest we forget the gall of the self-proclaimed Burger King (king of what, I ask you?) and his empty promise to “have it your way.”

No, McDonald’s is humble, quietly resigned to being known to a small few. They’re comfortable serving the meager fifty or so customers that a place like that can handle**. It’s only my hope that this place remains the unknown helm of ingenuity that it seems to be, not to be overridden by catering to the masses.

Trust me, I believe myself to be one of the best food critics of my generation***, I know what I’m talking about when it comes to what should be considered great cooking****.

I believe it is the ultimate goal of every critic to find a truly hidden local gem; it is one of the highest mountains to climb, and with the rise of instantaneous information though the internet, one would think that the very idea of a “hidden gem” is nothing more than a fantasy. But it is a peak I have managed to summit. And I think it goes to show that, sometimes, the greatest things can be found in the most unexpected places.

McDonald’s The Match Critic’s Pick

22 Broad Street Road, Manakin-Sabot, VA 23103

Hours: 6 a.m.-10 p.m.

Prices: $ (Fair)

*EDITOR’S NOTE: It should be noted that Mr. Eastep is, in fact, not a food critic in any sense of the word, and that any titles therein are self-proclaimed and not endorsed by The Match. We regret the error. 

**EDITOR’S NOTE: McDonald’s sells an estimated 50 million hamburgers a day.

***EDITOR’S NOTE: Mr. Eastep has never written a food review. Any statement that suggests he may be remotely considered a competent food critic is mere conjecture. We regret the error.

****EDITOR’S NOTE: He really doesn’t.

All photos by Andrew Eastep.