Craving McDonald’s and willing to spend $141.33? A McEverything it is - and a Diet Coke to wash it all down.
Nick Chipman, who blogs at DudeFoods.com, purchased one of every breakfast and lunch sandwich at a McDonald’s in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin, to make a “McEverything.”
“Obviously, everything at McDonalds starts with a 'Mc,'” as Chipman said. The number one thing on the 32-year-old’s list of life goals was to make this monstrous sandwich.
“I have kind of a weird bucket list. Most people are like, ‘Hey, I want to go skydiving.’ Mine was like, ‘Hey, I want to make a McEverything,” said Chipman.
Kate Krader (@kkrader on Twitter) is Food & Wine's restaurant editor. When she tells us where to find our culinary heart's desire, we listen up.
Krispy Kremes are the iconic, yeasty, sweet doughnuts beloved around the country. Sloppy Joes are the retro, no-frills ketchupy ground beef sandwiches that are invariably served on hamburger buns.
It was only a matter of time before someone decided to combine the two.
Sadly, you’ve missed your chance to sample the Krispy Kreme Sloppy Joe Sandwich, at least in the way that its creator - Chicken Charlie’s concession stand at the San Diego County Fair - intended it. The fair concluded on July 4. But you can dig into any number of other inspired dishes at other great state fairs around the country while you await Chicken Charlie's owner Charlie Boghosian's long-rumored cookbook.
Breast milk lollipops, cronuts, pizza-delivering drones, Whopper holders - Jeanne Moos explores this week's wackiest food stories.
Chef Toshio Tanabe serves up a a $110 dirt dinner at his French-inspired, Tokyo-based restaurant Ne Quittez Pas. CNN's Alex Zolbert digs in and puts the mud where his mouth is.
Twinkie-stuffed turkey. This is a thing that exists. In a restaurant. That people pay for. On purpose. With money. That they earned.
Editor's note: this is a part of FN Dish's Back to School Communal Table. Follow #pullupachair on Twitter and see other contributions below.
Sometimes, late in the night, the craving comes to me. I fight it, as I must, for the sake of decency and taste and everything I have strived for as a grown-up human being. I cannot...I will not...I must not...pour bottled Zesty Italian salad dressing over a heap of drained ramen noodles and slurp down the whole hot, harsh mess hunched over the kitchen counter in my bare feet. Even though (as I recall) it would be freaking delicious.