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An American Odyssey

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Speaking of food that will make you violently ill, I really want to be these guys.

A few weeks ago I embarked on a gluttonous odyssey, with a changing cast of co-conspirators, across this fast-food nation, from New York to California, sea to greasy sea. It was a roving binge as warped road movie: “Transfatamerica.” Or maybe, given our cholesterol-oblivious plunge over a nutritional cliff: “Thelma and Disease.”

But my goal wasn’t to supersize myself. It was to size up and single out the best fast food from familiar national chains, relatively unfamiliar regional chains and tiny local chains I had never encountered. To take the culinary road less traveled, at least by me.

Given my latest cholesterol reading (Doctor Bennet: “Check again. Are you sure you’re still alive?”) I fear that such a quest is forever beyond my grasp. Interestingly, what I’ve heard about Gold Star Chili confirms Bruni’s assessment that it’s the worst fast food in America. I can’t agree with his claim that KFC is better than Popeye’s, but I concur that the Whopper is better than the Big Mac by a fair margin.

Hat tip to Davida.

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