The Filet-O-Fish.

In this, the inaugural edition of 'Tastes like teen spit', I shall tackle the black-sheep of the McDonald's menu. Though its official title is 'Filet-o-fish' it is perhaps better known as the fish sandwich. Joining me in this meal is celebrated chef Ronald Jackovitz, author of 'Rat Coffins: 1001 Sausage Roll Recipes.' We endeavoured to consume a small 'Filet-o-fish' McValue meal from the fine McDonald's establishment in the suburb of Bateau Bay. The fish sandwich will be scored out of five and points may be detracted based on its quality and the quality of the chips (french-fries) and beverage.

The McDonald's fish-sandwich was the brain-child of unsuccessful businessman Lou Groen, who introduced it to his own failing McDonald's restaurant in an attempt to boost sales. The year was 1963 and Groen's McDonald's was situated in an area with a high concentration of Roman Catholics, who refused to eat meat on a Friday. He introduced the fish-sandwich to the menu but Ray Croc, the acting CEO of McDonald's recalled it. For Croc had been working on his own burger. Aptly titled, the 'Hulaburger' consisted of a slice of pineapple sandwiched between two slices of cheese in a bun. This was to be the only alternative to beef in any McDonald's restaurant. Groen was gutted. He quickly spiralled into a depression and despite constant intervention by his father and brothers, he put a gun in his mouth on a cold December evening.

A public outcry followed. People from Groen's hometown in Cincinnati, Ohio flocked to the McDonald's headquarters in Washington DC and protested Croc's decision to introduce the 'Hulaburger'. In a dazzling testament to the power of democracy, the board of director's voted to overthrow Croc's decision and implemented the global inclusion of Groen's fish-sandwich. And so, the 'Filet-o-fish' was born out of a Darwinian struggle, not unlike many of its other fishy ancestors. In various Asian countries it is known as the 'Fish-Mac' and in Germany it is simply the 'McFish', but in Groen's memory, it will always be the 'Filet-o-fish'.

Famous culinary artist, Ronald Jackovitz and I bought the fish-sandwich meal just after 9:30 pm on a Friday night. We endeavoured to eat it and the first thing that we noticed was that the chips were almost certainly the last batch of the evening. With all probability they were likely sitting there since 7:30 pm. Ronald placed a french-fry in his mouth and chewed. Immediately the blood drained from his face.

'These taste like luke-warm, leathery, moist twigs.' He said.

I followed suit, placing a couple of the greasy brown leeches in my mouth. I chewed and swallowed them down. The intensity of the salt meant that I needed a sip of my iced-beverage. I took one and reflexively spat it out all over Ronald's face.

'What is wrong!?' Ronald demanded an answer for my juvenile ejaculation of Sprite. I told him: My cup did not contain Sprite, but the discharge of some vile succubus.

'It's almost as if they didn't put enough lemonade syrup in. I'm drinking pure soda water here.' I said.

'Those bastards.' Ronald murmured. He put an arm around me and offered his own Sprite.

I took a sip of it, but I was not greedy. We were both going to need the refreshing lemony drink to get through this meal. Ronald took out his fish-sandwich and we both examined it. The top bun was impeccably round and an almost fluorescent orange.

'It looks like the ass-cheek of a nubile porn star.' Ronald said.

He took the top off and we examined the interior contents. What we saw defied the conventional laws of geometry: A square fish-patty on a round bun. We put aside our own mathematical curiosity for a moment and took a bite of our respective fish sandwiches.

'The tartar sauce contains some sort of disgusting relish.' Ronald said. I ignored him and chewed for a few moments, letting the combination of the sauce and processed cheese mix with the fish-patty itself.

'I think the sauce compliments the cheese quite well. The fish-patty is incredibly dry though.' I said.

'Yes. I agree. The lumps in the relish would lead me to never purchase this again. Tartar sauce should be smooth, like the milk from a new mother's lactating bosom.' Ronald said. I nodded vigorously.

'So what do you give it, Ronald?' I asked.

He replied: 'I'm going to give it 2.5 out of 5. More points would have been awarded had the tartar sauce not been so lumpy. And had the chips not had the texture of deep-fried worms that had first been left to cure in the sun.'

'Well I'm afraid I can't give it any more than a 2. I quite liked the burger despite the the dryness of the fish, but the chips and my bastardised Sprite ruined the whole affair.' I said.

Final Score:

Simon: 2/5.

Ronald: 2.5/5.