Today’s sundae came into being because some friends and I were prideful enough to assume we could win at Oscar’s trivia. We got fourth—not too shabby, but it still stings.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get food to accompany our trivia; I don’t like having anything between my brain and our answer sheet. But my only dinner was some tortilla chips that were too thick (looking at you, Whole Foods) and mediocre salsa, so I had to indulge.
Naturally, someone brought up that the menu featured a sundae. I am now obligated to get them on sight. With my posting schedule, I have to get somewhere in the ballpark of 50 sundaes a year. Which I try not to think about too often.
I ordered the sundae, and this monstrosity arrived.
It may look decadent, but a trained eye will notice that the ice cream is half-melted. Also, that utensil is not a spoon, but a fork. A plastic fork.
I may have met my match.
Quality of Fudge
Incomprehensible. I’m going to assume it was chocolate sauce, but I frankly couldn’t taste any of it amidst the cacophony of chocolate toppings (more on that later, unfortunately).
Another thing—many sundaes I’ve had the pleasure of eating have some kind of clear strategy with their fudge. A moat around the ice cream, a bottom coating on the sundae, cascading fudge beneath the whipped cream. Whatever the approach, the fudge is optimized to ensure a bit of chocolate with every bite.
But oh no, not this sundae. Dribbles of chocolate dot the sundae at random. The fudge was an after-thought. Or perhaps it was a no-thought, for I can’t in good conscience assume a single thought was spent in the making of this disaster.
Quality of Toppings
There’s the usual fanfare—cherries, whipped cream, and a few chopped nuts. And then we have, what I call, “the mess.” M&Ms, mini Twix bars, Snickers, and Reese’s PB Cups.
You think that sounds tasty? I won’t blame you for the infantile opinion. But consider this: None of it was chopped up to make for easy bites. We had full-on, unprocessed pieces of candy thrown into this bowl.
Have you ever tried to bite into a chilled Snickers? An impossible feat. It takes the same amount of pressure required to turn coal into diamonds. They really think their silver plasticware is up for the task? Preposterous. I had to gnaw through frozen caramel until it was no longer worth the effort.
Level of Comfort Ordering a Hot Fudge Sundae
Ordering it was just fine. But they didn’t ask if I wanted it to come out at the end. They found it perfectly acceptable to have me juggle my burgers and fries with my sundae. And since it came pre-melted, I had to work fast. Two savory bites. One sweet. Repeat.
It was madness. My teeth couldn’t withstand the temperature differentials for very long.
Would I Rather Get a McDonald’s Sundae
Ten billion percent, yes. This may go down as the worst sundae ever reviewed on the blog. I think there was also a record amount of ice cream left in the bowl—I’d guess I ate no more than 40% of the sundae.
Final Score: 0.5/10
Hot for Fudge 