So, Groen began working with McDonald’s corporate team to develop the Filet-O-Fish sandwich, even though owner Ray Kroc was completely against the idea. “Hell no!” Kroc apparently told Groen, according to “Grinding It Out: The Making of McDonald’s,” Kroc’s 1977 book. “I don’t care if the Pope himself goes to Cincinnati. He can eat hamburgers like everyone else. We can’t have our restaurants smelling of any of your damned old fish.”
Kroc is placing his bets — literally — on a creation he calls the Hulaburger. It’s two slices of cheese paired with a slice of grilled pineapple, placed on a toasted bun. Kroc liked to eat one for lunch. He made a bet with Groen: The company would sell Filet-O-Fish and Hulaburger on Friday. Whichever sandwich sells the most gets a spot on the permanent menu. It is a landslide. Hulaburgers: 6; Filet-O-Fish: 350.
“We started selling it on Fridays in limited areas, but we got so many requests for it that in 1965 we made it available in all our stores every day, advertising it as ‘the fish that catches people ,'” Kroc wrote in “Grinding It.”
Almost 60 years later, all major fast-food chains release a fish sandwich during Lent, if they haven’t sold one in a year. The differences between each are small but significant. They all rely on flaky white fish — Alaskan pollock is the species of choice for many chains — which essentially creates a blank canvas for the tartar sauce, seasoned coating, toppings and bun. There is a surprising amount of individuation that can be conjured from a tight handful of ingredients.
Is the tartar sauce sweet or spicy? Does the acid chain double by adding pickles to the sandwich? Is the bun brioche or potato? Is the coating thick or thin? Spiced or just seasoned? Does it include a slice of cheese — or half a slice of cheese as found in the Filet-O-Fish (which was no accident, by the way, but a deliberate choice as Kroc writes in his book)?
This seasonal wave of sandwiches, in other words, is meticulously engineered and marketed to cater to Lenten eaters. All this fried fish is a prayer answered not by God but by corporate America.
For the ranking below, I tested 10 fish sandwiches at six national chains. You’ll notice that the sandwich that started it all didn’t make the cut: The Filet-O-Fish I sampled was greasy, bready and, strangely, chewy. Its fish was muddy and, worse, it was drenched in tartar sauce. It’s the kind of lackluster bite that makes you think: Bring on the Hulaburger!
5. Arby’s Crispy Fish Sandwich
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The coating on this sandwich is thick, providing both crunch and just the right amount of chewiness, as if Arby’s mochi rice dough had been placed in the batter. The chain relies on pollock, as many do, because the species is cheap, abundant and available in the wild, allowing operators to sell their fish as “wild caught.” The mild pollock is topped with a tartar sauce that’s sweet, no doubt due to its generous use of high fructose corn syrup. Housed in a sesame seed bun that’s better shaped than its squishy brioche bun competitors, the fillet is accompanied by plenty of shredduce, the clever portmanteau for shredded lettuce. The sandwich is a bit more processed than its peers. But it just works. I swallowed the thing.
$5.49 per sandwich, but prices vary by location.
4. Bojangles’ Bojangler Fish Sandwich
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The ends of my fried triangle of Alaskan pollock poked through both ends of its toasted bun, looking like Giannis Antetokounmpo tried to tuck himself into a kid-size futon for the night. The presentation has a designed effect: to convey a kind of generosity that cannot be hidden inside a loaf of bread. The fillet arrived hot and fresh, with no signs of oil even though it had clearly been pulled from the fryer just seconds ago. The sandwich is low-frills: just a fried fillet, slice of American cheese, tartar sauce and a bun. But the elements are in harmony. The heat of the fish against the cold creaminess of the tartar; the black-pepper bite of the batter against the sweetness of the sauce; the softness of the bun against the crackle of the fillet. A fine specimen of fast-food craft.
$5.49 per sandwich, but prices vary by location.
3. Wendy’s Crispy Panko Fish Sandwich
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Wendy’s wins the sandwich-naming sweepstakes with its seasonal fish offering. If Bojangler conjures up images of horror-flick serial killers, the Crispy Panko Fish Sandwich is the opposite: It suggests a workhorse chef who worked for days to create a coating that boosts the crunch that appeals to so many of us. on fried foods in the first place. True to form, this sandwich crackles under the teeth, right down to the last bite. The crunch is its own pleasure. The fillet itself is formed from “wild caught Alaskan pollock” — Wendy’s is quick to point out the sustainability of this fishery — and is paired with tartar sauce, pickles, American cheese and a leaf of romaine. The tartar sauce isn’t afraid of acidity, doing what it’s supposed to do: containing the fishiness of the fillet while emphasizing its sweet ocean flavor.
$6.16 per sandwich, but prices vary by location.
2. Burger King’s Flaming Big Fish
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The King decided to do its best Popeyes impression this Lent by introducing the Fiery Big Fish, a spicy interpretation of its regular seafood sandwich. Which means BK, like Popeyes, now offers customers two ways to fix their fish: one with heat, one without. The newbie is the superior offerer. Burger King brushes a triple-pepper glaze on both sides of its Alaskan pollock fillet. The glaze kind of looks like hot pepper jelly, and as such, its heat is more creeping than a palate crusher. You can fall in love with the sweet tartar sauce or the crunch of the panko-crusted fillet or even the pillowy potato bun. But then, out of nowhere, chile peppers catch you unawares and land a solid uppercut on the kisser. Fiery Big Fish may be an instant fast-food classic.
$3.99 per sandwich, but prices vary by location.
1. Popeyes’ Classic Flounder Fish Sandwich
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Let me get this out of the way: This spicy version of the Flounder Fish Sandwich packs a wallop. Too much of one, in fact, for the usually tender nature of the white fish. The sauce was better suited to Popeyes’ chicken sandwich, which launched 1,000 imitators. But the standard Flounder Fish Sandwich can be fast-food perfection. The breading encased in the flounder is thick and flaky – and spiced enough to deliver the on-target hot-pepper punch that every piece of flaky white fish just calls for. Flounder also stands out from its competitors: When you peel back the breading from the fish, you find whole fillets, not just clumps of fish. Its flavor is more pronounced, too: The flounder has a distinct brininess, which goes well with the richness of the brioche bun and the acidity of the pickle and tartar sauce. It all clicked into place with this sandwich. Now, how do we convince Popeyes to keep this on the menu full time?
$5.99 per sandwich, but prices vary by location.
