We learned something this week, and it’s that people like taking photos of their off-menu Arby’s Meat Mountains and sending them to us. In the spirit of convenience, we figured we’d put’em all in one place. You know, before this Meat Mountain thing blows over, or erupts or whatever it is mountains do when you’re sick of hearing about them and how much meat they have.
The more Meat Mountains we see, the more we’ve come to appreciate their differences. Each one is like a meat snowflake, unique in its posture, the texture of its bun, and the way the layers of meat are piled just so. These sandwiches seem to be falling into one of three categories, or Meat Mountain Ranges, if you will.
And I will:
If you get this sandwich, workers at your Arby’s are excited about the new gimmick and aren’t tired of making it yet. Yet.
For example, here’s Consumerist reader Geoff’s experience getting that sandwich above that appears ready for its closeup. Geoff has probably the prettiest Meat Mountain we’ve seen thus far, maybe because by now, this whole Meat Mountain thing is catching on and getting workers excited to make it, too.
“They all crowded around and chuckled while it got made, and when they handed it to me, the shift manager said, still grinning, ‘If you’re gonna have a heart attack, don’t do it here, OK?’ ” writes Geoff.
You can see the love it was made with in its presentation — evenly placed, alternating meat layers, thoughtfully placed cheese and a sturdy bun that can contain its insides, at least until the first bite. That’s The Pretty One.
Another example, as photographed by Consumerist reader Michael:
Mostly self-explanatory. Matthew’s sandwich and its brethren barely realize they are not simply piles of meat, but are also supposed to serve as a single sandwich entity. These pieces of meat are trying to escape, after being unceremoniously dumped on the sacrificial bun. That’s why it’s blurry, the meat is trying to get away.
THE ONE YOU ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF EATING RIGHT NOW
Something about these sandwiches has made you stop and reflect on what happens to a sandwich while it’s being eaten, and to take a photo of that moment, capturing each and every layer as evidence of your conquest.The result? A challenge. Because you have to finish what you started.
“It took three days of trying before the manager okayed it,” explained Randall.
THE “WE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT WE WERE DOING YET”
It seems like only a few days ago that we first heard of the Meat Mountain, because it was. And on that day, our earliest submissions from Joe and Derek just show that Arby’s workers were as surprised by the sandwich as everyone else was.
“They had to call someone to find how how to ring it up and get a print out of how to make it after showing them the Consumerist article,” wrote Derek.
Leaning towers of meat with haphazardly placed layers and a bun that can’t possibly stand up to all those ingredients is a sure sign that you’re dealing with an inexperienced Meat Mountain maker. It all ends up in your stomach though anyway, right?