Culver's (Chain)

There was a brief period of my life after I lived free of the confines of family or school, yet before I could legally acquire alcohol. Attending school at the time in the middle of nowhere, with few amenities and fewer pleasures, meant traveling further afield for what would otherwise be mundane. I took several such sojourns with my roommate, Eric, to the nearest city and the nearest Culver's - a mere half hour's drive away - whenever our other roommate (Garrett) abandoned us for the weekend to spend time with his loving girlfriend. 

Eric is a man of few, strong passions: economics, beer, the Green Bay Packers, and Culver's. As I journeyed the five minutes down the street from my apartment last night to my neighborhood Culver's, my mind hearkened back to simpler times, when the warmth of cheese curds and a butter burger warmed the cockles of my cold, dead heart, giving me some small measure of meaning and purpose in those dark times. I think Eric just liked eating at Culver's.

Here's a review of onion rings from Culver's. 

Presentation and Appearance: (3.5/5)

With the convenience of fast food comes many a sacrifice for other luxuries. Despite the simplicity of the presentation of these onion rings (a small blue and white Culver's branded bag), I find myself oddly charmed. As I assume is taught at culinary schools around the nation, the quantity of onion rings exceeds the immediate space of the bag, spilling out in their circular glory. 

The onion rings themselves are cooked to a crisp, golden brown, with occasional specks of darker brown throughout. They are wildly variate in size, though fairly uniform in thickness. The battering is pockmarked, though this rarely exposes the onion core. As such, they do add a bit of pizzazz to the plate as a whole. 

(Culver's did not provide the plate, that's all me.) 

Taste: (2.5/5) 

The Culver's website, which has long been an authoritative source of information on the questions that wrack men's souls, notes that the onion rings are "salted the second they leave the fryer." True to their word, these onion rings are perfectly salted. There's enough to bring out the flavor of the battle, but not so much that it eclipses all other tastes. Taste-wise, the batter is the highlight of these rings, with other spices subtly mixed in with the salty flavor. 

Unfortunately, the onions fail to live up to the batter's standards. Though they are soft, plump, and juicy, there's next to no onion flavor coming with it. Such onion flavor that exists is pleasant, though skimpy. 

Texture: (3.5/5)

In what I can only assume is a remarkable feat of Wisconsin engineering, the batter was a marvelous mixture of brittle, yet firm. My first bite led the batter to crack and splinter, almost dissolving instantly in my mouth, and yet the rest of the onion ring remained firm. It's as though the batter was chemically designed to collapse after a bite, but only in the exposed areas. The strength of the batter was truly a marvel. 

However, its structural integrity was not matched by the plump onion within. The onions were perhaps a bit too soft, and prone to noodling out from inside the thick salty walls, though full-on slippage was thankfully rare. The onion portions were soft, but seemed at times more slimy than juicy. 

Value: (4/5)

Though somewhat lacking in onion taste, these well-seasoned rings provided a filling snack for a mere $2.99. Though I would be shocked if these onion rings weren't frozen, they were clearly cooked fresh and seasoned with love (which I assume tastes like salt). The batter is a shockingly high quality for mass-produced onion rings, and the quantity was just right. 

Total: (13.5/20)

Mexicali Blues (Arlington, VA)

For many years, I loathed D.C., by reputation, expense, and the fact that it was the seat of government and a hotbed of statist ambition, concocting countless plans to strangle freedom and the prosperity. Though the neverending regulations and interventions emanating from one of the thousands of nondescript buildings housing yet another in a line of countless federal bureaucracies may strangle prosperity and innovation, they do have some cool restaurants. 

So that's something, I guess. 

Here is a review of onion rings from Mexicali Blues in Arlington, Virginia. 

Presentation and Appearance: (4.5/5)

The plate itself is as modal as a plate can be; white and circular. Rather than relying on increasingly bizarre blends of baskets and papers to plate the onion rings, Mexicali Blues lets the onion rings shine. Each ring is delicately and ornately placed in a flavorful tableau, pleasing to the eye and (hopefully) the palate. Sprinkled on top is a garnish of freshly chopped cilantro, bringing some much needed color to the plate. 

The onion rings themselves are clearly hand battered, evidenced by both the cascading ridges surrounding the ring and the patchy covering evidenced on a handful of rings. In truth, the patchy battering is really the only ding I can give to the appearance of these rings, with each of them consistently colored in a golden brown and tinged with a hint of orange. 

Finally, a medium sized container of chipotle ranch fills out the rest of the plate. 

Taste: (5/5)

Over three years of some fifty-odd onion rings reviews (and dozens of others that never made it to print), I've learned one simple truth: almost nobody knows how to properly season onion ring batter. These are an exception. 

Per the menu, the rings are battered in buttermilk and chiles, an entirely new culinary innovation in the world of onion rings. The batter delivers the slightest bit of heat and the perfect burst of flavor packed into each bite, transforming the onion ring from a routine slice of Americana to a cultural and culinary journey. 

The taste of the onion is likewise measured and fitting, erring to no extreme in flavor. Though perhaps slightly undercooked, which generally leads to less onion juices and less grease, the minute rawness pairs will with the chile flavors. 

The chipotle ranch dipping sauce elevated both of these flavors in turn to a new plane of existence. Simultaneously creamy and smoky, the sauce oozes down to the onion core through the delicate batter, working in tandem to produce a cohesive bite. Finally, the occasional flecks of cilantro criss-crossing the top of the onion rings provide a pop of freshness, softening and elevating the accompanying flavors. 

Simply put, the flavors of these onion rings work together perfectly. 

Texture: (3/5)

For all the triumphs of taste and presentation, the texture of these onion rings are wanting. Slippage struck a handful of times, and it struck hard, as I desperately gulped down a strand of onion with an oversized swig of Modelo Especial. The flavorful batter was also unique for its rigidity and structure, holding firm under the pressure of hand and tooth. 

However, the strength of the batter is not matched by the onion. Though the underdone onions led to a delightful flavor profile, they were likewise too rigid, and too separated from the batter, to remain as cohesive in mouthfeel as they were in taste. If the onions were cooked just a touch longer, the added juices would glue the parts together, like birthday party decorations constructed by an attentive mother. Instead, they more resemble the haphazard attempts of a desperate husband flinging together decorations for a party his wife is making him throw for a concocted Instagram holiday, as he dreams of simpler times when he didn't own any throw pillows. 

Value: (3.5/5) 

I'm of a mixed mind on the value of the these rings. Though they made a filling meal with impeccable taste, the plate itself cost $9.95. Recognizing I am in the wildly expensive D.C. metropolitan area, I'm somewhat more forgiving than I would otherwise be, though the price is a little steep. For both the quality and the quantity of the rings, I'm fairly satisfied, albeit not overwhelmed. 

Overall: 16/20

Chili's (Chain)

I know what you're thinking. Why, after a ten month absence, would I come back with, of all things, Chili's? There are a number of factors that led to its selection, including Season 2, Episode 1 of The Office ("The Dundies," which takes place in a Chili's), Season 2, Episode 7 of The Office ("The Client," which also takes place partially in a Chili's, or "the new golf course" and features an Awesome Blossom), and its unique blend of of ubiquity and mediocrity.

Though a relic of a bygone era, its cultural impact continues to echo throughout the strip malls of American suburbia, all the more relevant in an increasingly urbanized world.

Here's a review of Awesome Blossom Petals from Chili's. Welcome back.

Presentation and Appearance: 4/5

In a twist on the prevailing norm the onion petals arrive in a metal box (or possibly an ineffective cheese grater), which is itself on an oversized square plate. The box is just the right size to contain the volume of the petals, overflowing every so slightly. A delicate sprinkle of what I can only assume to be a proprietary blend of Chili's seasoning coats the top layer, perhaps providing an extra boost of flavor. The accompanying "Blossom sauce" rests in a standard ramekin, albeit with some leakage reaching over the rim.

The petals themselves are fairly evenly coated and with a golden brown crust in appearance. A handful of petals deeper into the basket had bare onion showing, or a blended together batter, but overall, they looked meaty and robust.

Taste: 1.5/5 

In a perfect metaphor for the Chili's experience, and many of the dominant chain restaurants around the nation, the strong appearance of the onion petals served only to mask the lifeless chunks of onion hiding within a bland batter. Though the petals are thick, they lack onion juice. Though the batter is brown and all encompassing, its thickness masks a moist and bland interior. Though greasy, there's no hint of onion taste, leaving me to marvel in horror at its source.

The bits of Chili's proprietary seasoning blend were only sprinkled on the top few petals, and served to add little more than a bare hint of flavor, tricking me for a brief moment into thinking there was flavor.

The sauce is the closest thing to a highlight in this dish. Rather than the standard sides of Southwestern sauce or ranch, the Blossom sauce has a strong taste of horseradish. Unfortunately, as is always the case with bland onion rings and related products, the petals serve as nothing more than a vehicle to shovel the sauce into my mouth, eschewing even further the concept of nutritional value or satisfaction.

Texture: 1/5

Though my foray into the world of onion rings has taken a brief leave of absence throughout the bulk of 2019, the issues have not changed. Slippage, my mortal foe, has been hiding deep in the weeds, waiting for my eventual return to strike. And strike it did, with a vengeance. On nearly every bite of every petal I ate, the onions squeezed out from the batter like a greasy, oversized sunflower seed, leaving an unappealing shell in its wake.

The onion interior is too big, and the batter, though thick, can't seem to contain it. There's hardly a hint of a crisp in the batter, and the mouthfeel is more like an onion cake, sweetened with sawdust and bound with earwig honey.

Value: 1.5/5

For my metal box of onion petals, I paid $6.99. For the sheer quantity of onion flesh, lessened substantially by the pivot of a petal rather than a ring shape, it's hideously overpriced. In every possible sense, these Awesome Blossom Petals are a perfect metaphor for Chili's. Through strong in appearance and presentation, they are bland, tasteless, overpriced, and poorly executed. The closest they approach flavor is through the dipping sauce, which serves only to mask the deficiencies of every other part of the dish.

Total: 8/20