To combat the extraordinary length of my previous post I will now counter-balance it with a much skinnier one; the word skinny being of particular importance here. To anyone that cares, I have just returned from my first trip to the newly opened establishment Fat Sandwich. I must say, I feel the effects succinctly.

I can’t help but admit that I am somewhat surprised. To anyone that reads The Buzz regularly, Fat Sandwich recently made the front cover of this weekly campus pop culture newspaper. If you did know this, you may be familiar with the basic intentions of the restaurant. From what I can gather, the establishment is basically an excuse to make easy money off of trashed, late-night cravers of things like doughnuts, eggs, pizza rolls, mac & cheese bites, chicken strips, fried mushrooms, &c. With names like Fat Milf, Fat Mess, Fat WalkofShame, and Fat Blunt, it’s hard to miss the point.

The menu offers up these restaurant-created suggestions, OR lets the adventurous food connoisseur build their own. Here’s a link to their menu, cuz I’m not going to get into making a piecemeal list for you…it wouldn’t do it justice, in addition to prodigiously expanding this post’s word length:

http://fatsandwichcompany.com/Champaign/index.html

I decided to take advantage of the build your own concept and created this gem:

Mac & Cheese Bites, Mini Corn Dogs, Fried Mushrooms, and marinara sauce

Yeah, wtf? But it was too intriguing to NOT be tempted by the long list of forbidden food items all placed with the warm embrace of an amoroso roll. Should I have played it safe, and opted for the Fat Sorostitute (buffalo chicken fingers, mozzarella sticks, jalapeno poppers, and ranch)? Either way, the concept is basically to take a handful of store-bought, frozen appetizers, heat them up, and stuff them into a sandwich roll or wrap for convenience sake. As a token of generosity, every sandwich gets topped off with a handful of fries. Thanks.

I have to say that, having just eaten this monster, with the aftereffects still mulling and sloshing around in my stomach, about to work their way further into my gastrointestinal tract, and seep slowly into my bloodstream, that I definitely feel gross and unsatisfied. Nothing about what I ate provided me with the least bit of satiety. Granted, I was not inebriated during consumption (and therefore not really the mini corn dogs’ target audience), but shouldn’t I at least feel satisfied in SOME way? It is too weird to feel the strange and sad paradox of cramming a bunch of shit into one’s stomach, only to feel a little more empty on the inside. In the end, I’ll offer this one bit of advise for curious consumers: you will feel much better about yourself if you have no memory of putting a Fat Sandwich away. Don’t go sober. Or if you do, maybe you should just order what you dream of putting within the boundaries of a sandwich…separately. Separate. But equal.  

Love,

Jenny