Just wolfed down my very first McDonald's McGangBang sandwich. What's one of them? It's an industrious little treat, dreamt up by penny pinch patrons of a Daytona Beach outlet of that fine sweety shitty meat restaurant. Sir requests that McStaff split a Double Cheeseburger at the first patty, placing a McChicken sandwich in the middle, before bringing it all back together as bun-heavy supersnack. Sir wouldn't mind some fries too, yes.
Apparently the McGangBang can actually be ordered, by name, in a select few chains in the US. How's that for customer service? I should imagine if you order this side of the pond, you'll an unhelpful slack-jawed stare. I shouldn't think explanations would help much either. Since I'm ever-so-politely English, not to mention lazily sending someone else out for this item, I ordered the parts in the singular for later self-assembly. A colleague dubbed this an 'Ikea'. I'm stealing that for Urban Dictionary. I've told him. He doesn't mind.
Although not much of a culinary revelation, the McGangBang did remind me of childhood encounters with Big Macs: struggling to angle the thing into a biteable position, unable to make a total chomp that includes every layer of taste, and desperately munching sliding meat-plates to divert a total collapse. The top bun was a stress fracture mess. It was an adventure. So if you want to feel like a tiny, straining child again, you know what to order.
