Wahlburgers (Chain)

Much like wedding rings, onion rings bring people together. The past six years of Sola Cepa have provided myriad opportunities for connection with friends and family alike, and downtown Grand Rapids has been the site for dozens of such occasions. Years ago, when I was working in downtown Grand Rapids, the opening of a new restaurant that served onion rings was a remarkable occasion, one I monitored closely.

Unfortunately, after three years of working from home full-time, these sojourns to The Big City have become fewer and farther between, though not entirely absent. In this case, the opening of the Grand Rapids location of Wahlburgers, as well as The Wife being out of town, provided the opportunity to catch up with my good friend Eric over the sweet, circular goodness that is the onion ring.

Here is a review of onion rings from Wahlburgers. 

Presentation and Appearance: 4/5

While the menu bills these as "Thin Crispy Onion Rings," I don't think I had grasped just how thin they would be. The overflowing heap of ribbon-thin onion rings snakes out of the wired basket, cascading and hypnotically swirling between the basket and the plate. They're among the thinnest onion rings I've ever seen, and are topped with green specks of herbs.

The breading is similarly thin, so much so that I wasn't entirely sure it existed on first glance. The plating has a certain elegance, with a metal (not plastic) basket atop a napkin atop a hefty plate, though the effect is somewhat diminished by the sheer volume of onion rings.

Taste: 3.5/5

I was initially highly suspicious of these onion rings, given the small size and thin batter, but the flavor profile was surprisingly refined. Most onion rings, if made properly, are designed to deliver big bursts of flavor - the thick cuts of juicy onion, well salted greasy batter, and so on.

These onion rings were of a more subtle and understated variety, with a delicate seasoning balance between salt, herb, and batter. The thin onion strands were predictably on the lighter side, but it was consistent with the taste of the batter in a way that made sense with the size. Unfortunately, my order was slightly over salted, threatening to swallow the ecosystem of flavor entirely.

The accompanying sauce did not complement the otherwise thoughtful taste, representing some sort of unholy vinegar and tomato fusion that wasn't quite ketchup and wasn't quite Thousand Island Dressing. I think a good sauce would have made significant steps to overcome the saltiness and overall dry profile, though application was difficult given the small size of the onion rings.

Texture: 2.5/5

It's truly a remarkable feat to fry onion strings this thin without burning them to a crisp, but Wahlburgers has done so. While there's little overall moisture in the dish (owing to the small cut of the onions), the crispy onion rings remain light and airy, with the delicate batter somehow holding its shape through cooking and eating. The textural profile is fundamentally dry, with almost no onion juices to speak of, which was unfortunately not remedied by the accompanying sauce. 

Unlike many of the other dry onion rings I've eaten in my time, I think these are intentionally devoid of moisture, and to that extent it was executed within its vision, though it was still ultimately lacking. 

Value: 3/5

These onion rings are truly not onion rings at all. They feel in large part like an over-engineered gourmet burger topping that was added to the sides menu as an afterthought. They don't really work as a side and can't quite stand up as an appetizer, but it was like nothing I've ever tasted before. For $3.50 it's pricy given the quantity of onion, but it brings something new and interesting to the table. 

Total: 13/20

The Old Bag of Nails Pub (Chain, Ohio)

Thanksgiving, for much of my adult life, has been a simple affair. With a steadily growing diaspora among my family, my grandparents absconding to warmer climes, and my siblings rapidly marrying off, it often came down to me and my mother. We would usually drink and watch TV.

With the rapid onset of my own marriage, I was forced to come to terms with sharing holidays with the in-laws. And so, off we went, to small-town Ohio, on a pilgrimage my wife's family has undertaken for many a year.

With the customary gluttony that accompanies Thanksgiving, I had to find time, calories, and resolve to go eat onion rings as well. It was not a simple task (and probably set me back a good two weeks in my own health goals, eating the caloric equivalent of a dozen runs), but I have long since accepted my lot in life is one of sacrifice for the pleasure of others. In this case, it's for those who (inexplicably) read in-depth reviews of onion rings. Thanks, as always, for your longstanding support.

Here's a review of onion rings from the Old Bag of Nails Pub (at the Marysville, Ohio location). Thank you to my lovely wife for accompanying me.

Presentation and Appearance: (3.5/5)

Though the black plastic basket is fairly standard, the paper lining resplendent with fake newsprint was a bit more unique (though I have seen it once before at Kitchen 67). I didn't bother to read the content of the paper (likely Ohio-themed propaganda), but it did its best to emulate a "down-home" country-esque feel. The onion rings are at just the right amount to fill the basket and slightly heap, with two plastic containers of horseradish dipping sauce balanced precariously amidst ring and news, perhaps a fitting metaphor for the lack of attention paid to onion rings in modern journalism. 

The onion rings themselves are clearly hand battered, though a number are oddly squished and squashed, as though molded and fried under pressure to turn the characteristic "o" to something more akin to a "0". Overall, the batter strikes me as flaky and perhaps a bit loose, and cooked on the lighter side of golden brown. That said, they do make for a unique appearance, somewhat characteristic of tempura battering. 

Taste: (2.5/5)

These onion rings were a bit of a shock to me. Despite the tantalizing appearance, the batter wasn't very well seasoned. Much greasier than initial appearances led me to believe, the bulk of the batter flavor was a buttery smoothness. The onions themselves didn't add much to the dish, beyond a small hint of sweetness mixed in with the batter. 

The horseradish dipping sauce was a highlight, and was almost essential to whatever enjoyment I could derive from these rings. While not particularly strong, the creamy and smooth sauce mixed well with the buttery flavors of the batter.

However, at the core of it, it didn't feel much like eating an onion ring. It was more of a vaguely onion-tasting pastry shaped like a zero, filled with the delicious horseradish cream all schoolchildren know and love. 

Texture: (2/5)

Despite the buttery taste, the batter is fairly dry. The batter itself is a curiosity. It's almost as if it's made up of successive layers of batter, fried lightly and concurrently before serving. The enigma-laden batter demonstrates both shedding and slippage, as flecks depart the ring after each bite and the onion interior slips out between them. The rigidity of the batter is further complicated by its softness, almost like a sweet onion cake. 

The root cause of this is that the onion rings were undercooked. The interior layers are chewy and doughy, even while surrounded by the crispy flecks of the outer layers. I suspect this also accounts for the meager onion flavor. Though I'm fascinated by the batter, and applaud its ingenuity in delivering onion rings, I think it misses the mark on execution. 

Value: (3/5)

On a standard menu price, this large basket of onion rings cost $7.99. The quantity was impressive, and this was one of very few occasions I can recall where I had to request a to-go box for the remainder. This was no doubt influenced by the gluttony of Thanksgiving (and the subsequent meals at Bob Evans, a hotel breakfast buffet, and other reviews), but it's impressive nonetheless. 

As I worked long into the night in my hotel room, the cold onion rings beckoned to me, and ended up tasting better than they did fresh. I'm not sure what to make of that, which is a sentiment I'm forced to express for much of these rings. They are a curiosity from the depths of Ohio, that I will marvel at for the weeks and months to come. 

Total: 11/20

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)

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