FAST FOOD FISHINESS
In as much as one might weigh their own modernity by the choices they make at a fast food restaurant, the Filet- O- Fish is not a very cool sandwich to order at McDonald’s.
I was oblivious to this bit of information (knowledge that the rest of the Western world seemed to understand to be self-evident) until the sixth episode in the first season of The Office – way back when it was still necessary to differentiate it as “the American Office.” In this early episode, Michael Scott (as a way of flexing his authority to impress an attractive saleswoman) asks Ryan The Intern to clean out his car.
His employee obliges, and here’s the dialogue that transpires:
Ryan The Intern ( as he cleans out Michael’s car which is filled with empty Filet- O- Fish wrappers and boxes): Wow. How many Filet- OFishes did you eat?
Michael Scott: That’s over several months, Ryan. Ryan The Intern: Still ... Not that I’m one to spend a lot of worry on how I’m perceived at a fast food counter, but after viewing that exchange onscreen I became painfully aware of how gauche the act of ordering a Filet- O- Fish had become ( always was?). Underneath the smiling veneer of an employee receiving a request for a fried fish sandwich l i es disgust, contempt and a barely contained urge toward scorn. But why? The Filet- O-Fish is beautiful. The spongy bun. The tangy tartar sauce. The crispy batter. The flaky Alaskan pollock; salty, but also sweet. Even the half- slice of cheese seems a risky, yet inspired choice. And also, mysterious. ( Ray Kroc doesn’t bother to elaborate on why it’s a half- slice in his book, Grinding It Out: The Making of McDonald’s, other than to take credit for deciding half, not whole.)
There is nothing not perfect about McDonald’s fried fish fillet. That first salty bite, when all five items initially convene on your lips, tastes like a kiss of approval from Poseidon himself. A warm wave of ocean water washes over you, and you float buoyantly into your next bite. This isn’t a sandwich as much as it is an experience. One you’ll never forget, even though you’ll want to remind yourself over and over again.
Maybe the problem with the fried fish sandwich isn’t found in its construction or taste, but rather in what it represents.
The McDonald’s, Burger King or Wendy’s in your life is not a place for restraint. You are too educated, too self-aware to enter a fast food establishment pretending to be there for anything other than sheer gluttony; to experience pure indulgence.
And yet, from its very inception, the fast food fish sandwich has been defined by restriction. The Filet- OFish was invented in 1962 by Lou Groen, the owner of a McDonald’s franchise in Cincinnati, Ohio. Located in a predominantly Catholic part of town, Groen’s restaurant languished on Fridays when Catholics traditionally abstained from eating meat ( but were apparently okay to gorge on seafood). In response to sluggish sales at the end of the week, Groen introduced what we now know as the Filet- O-Fish (an ad agency later came up with the name) for sale on Fridays.
While the fried fish sandwich has since gone on to become a staple of not only McDonald’s but several fast food chains around the world, it still represents a departure from the spirit of fast food. In many ways, it can be seen as a precursor to the rightfully maligned salad menus now in place at most fast food restaurants.
Even as a protein, fish is considered to be healthier than the beef options that once dominated fast food. As such, it contributes to a perversion of the fast food experience; one that’s not about tracking nutritional value, calculating saturated fat content or counting calories, but rather a moderate culinary hedonism where what tastes best is consumed until one is satisfied.
The act of ordering a fried fish sandwich is met with derision because it r epresents a laissez- faire approach to what should be all or nothing.
It’s half- assed. It’s the denying of oneself. It’s a lack of selfawareness; an act full of self- delusion; evidence of someone who doesn’t know their place in the world.
It could be said that requesting a Filet- O- Fish goes against the very nature of fast food. But let’s not get carried away on a wave here, Captain Highliner.
Now that fast food chains have made nutritional information available, the critical consumer will note that the Filet- O- Fish and its ilk are every bit a cardiologist’s nightmare as any other menu item. In fact, a bacon cheeseburger offers more protein, fewer carbs and two- thirds the fat. Rest assured, fried fish lover, your sandwich is just as disgusting as anyone else’s. That derision you sense from the fast food employee; the shock of fellow customers when you ask for a Filet- O-Fish is as misplaced as the kale option at the self- serve kiosk. If anything, the horrified reactions of onlookers is evidence that unlike the Catholics who may have had a hand in its origin, you will not be restricted by de rigeur rites.
Ordering a fish filet sandwich is about freedom. It’s about knowing who you are, what you want and how to get it. It’s the full embrace of the spirit in which fast food is intended. It’s living your life to the fullest.
Go forth. Order that fish sandwich with pride. Smile back at looks of horror. And don’t you dare wipe the tartar sauce from your mouth until every last bite is gone.
ORDERING A FILET- O-FISH SANDWICH IS ABOUT FREEDOM. IT’S ABOUT KNOWING WHO YOU ARE.
THAT FIRST SALTY BITE ... TASTES LIKE A KISS OF APPROVAL FROM POSEIDON