All photos: Stephanie Breijo
Someone, please, save our stomachs. After devouring Taco Bell’s smothered burrito and stuft (not a spelling error) nacho, Dunkin’ Donuts’ red velvet errything, and even RED LOBSTER LOBERSTERFEST 2014, we couldn’t help but try Subway’s NEW Fritos® Chicken Enchilada Melt. Shout outs to Reformation Fitness, our lovely neighbors in Shaw who loaned us the yoga mats, and to Subway, for donating the yoga mat chemical in the bread.
You know how scent and taste are inexplicably linked? How just the whiff of something delicious immediately signals what it would taste like?
Well God help me, because it works the opposite way, too.
When I unwrapped Subway’s Frito Enchilada Melt, I asked myself what the fuck that armpit-reminiscent stench wafting from my table was. And since I knew it wasn’t me (because my Dove pomegranate deodorant stays very close to my side), I knew it had to be that footlong monstrosity stuffed with jalapeños, onions, Fritos, and pink sludge McDonald’s-era chicken. Then I took a bite and became unwaveringly certain that the armpit smell was, in fact, the byproduct of rancid sandwich.
I was wary enough of eating Subway after that whole rubber/bread debacle, but to bring a certain levity to the taste test, we here at BYT decided to laugh it off and give good ol’ Subway a chance by eating the rubber-bread Frito thing on a yoga mat made of that same rubber.
And even after balancing the sandwich on my ass in Downward Dog, I can honestly say that I feel no emotional bond with Subway. None at all. Because the sandwich honestly smells/tastes like a post-workout tragedy, and it’s offensive to my sensitive olfactory nerve.
I’ve visited Subway more in the past two months than I’ve visited a yoga studio. I’ve also been exposed to the same chemical, Azodicarbonamide, an equal amount of times at both locations. None of this is OK.
Still, Subway® promised a NEW, EXCITING SANDWICH™ with the FRITOS® CHICKEN ENCHILADA MELT. Another visit was clearly in order.
Growing up in California with a Mexican mother, I’m an expert in Hispanic food, in the dickish way of complaining about tacos that cost more than $2. This 580-calorie sandwich with a 182-calorie Coke® and a 160-calorie bag of Fritos® cost $11.45.
AND IT WAS NOTHING CLOSE TO MEXICAN FOOD. Obviously. But to pay $11.45 to watch a Subway employee scrape glorified puppy chow onto yoga mat flatbread was beyond frightening. Seeing the heap of processed sludge enter the oven, I gasped.
So I added jalepeños.
Two bites was enough to determine how awful this sandwich truly is. Comparing it to anything my mother made would be a disgrace. Comparing it to a manwich would be a disgrace. Comparing it to the Beggin’ Strips Salsa Edition I ate on a dare in 4th grade would be a disgrace. Comparing it to anything else Subway offers is a disgrace. Should you purchase one (don’t), expect one bitter, sour mess of indigestion.
I’m sorry BYT for the wretched odor when we brought this in, I’m sorry Morgan (one of our great interns) for having to try this with me, I’m sorry Reformation Fitness for spilling an onion and some fritos on the mats (we cleaned them!), and I’m sorry reader for the caps lock BECAUSE IT’S IMPOSSIBLE NOT TO SCREAM-TYPE WHEN YOU’RE VOMITING.
“There’s never been another sub like it! Crunch into a pile of Fritos placed right on top of tender pulled chicken and authentic enchilada sauce for a new satisfyingly delicious bite of flavor you can’t find anywhere else! ”