We, in Syracuse, are witnesses to a god-sent anomaly: two McDonald’s restaurants within two blocks of one another. Questions of “Which came first?” and “How is that a good idea?” might come to mind, but in the new reality of infrequent McDonald’s visits, the most important question is “Which is superior?”

McDonald’s has long been a staple of the American diet, a bourgeois burger sanctuary where the masses can enjoy a hot sandwich, French fries and a bathtub of cola at the cost of whatever change they can find in their Levis. Yet, with the rise of “fast casual” eateries like Five Guys and Panera Bread hawking their “Mediterranean Veggie on Tomato Basil” and plutocrat patties, “The Golden Arches” have lost some of their appeal. With more health-conscious diners buying into meaningless offerings of “locally sourced,” “real ingredients” and “actual food,” McDonald’s is becoming a rare treat as opposed to daily staple.

In my first trip, I opened the front door and read a ripped sign on the glass door that says “No Solicitas. No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service.” The message is clear; this is an upscale eatery with an explicit dress code and what the chef says goes. Immediately, I was excited to see what this chef could McCook up for me.

I walked up to the counter and ordered a double cheeseburger — my usual —, an Egg McMuffin and a coffee. Service was both friendly and efficient. I did, however, notice while waiting for my order that the maître d’ was unable to cater to one gentleman’s request for more mustard packets.

My food was served in the traditional brown to-go bag despite my intentions of eating in. They must have unjustly assumed a college-aged man wouldn’t eat a double cheeseburger and Egg McMuffin at 11:00 a.m. in a booth by himself. Their assumption was both offensive and egregious.

Eating in allowed me to take in the absence of ambiance in the establishment that was, to be short, disappointing. Anyone who buys this franchisee a subscription to Architectural Digest could write it off as a charitable donation. An amalgam of earth-toned wallpaper patterns tending toward the geometric clashed with a smattering a blue-hued prints of musical objects. They were vaguely reminiscent of Picasso’s “Blue Period,” had he never learned to paint.

Fortunately, the food outshined the décor and was an utter delight. The McMuffin was lightly crisped around the edges, the cheese product perfectly melted so as to gently hug the egg substitute. The greaseless exterior of the double cheeseburger in combination with beautiful topping distribution made it otherworldly. The coffee, bold and vibrant, reminded me of my favorite McCafe near Piazza Stazione in Florence.

Even though the décor would make Grimace grimace, this McDonald’s was a superb culinary experience. C’est magnifique!

The following day, I drove the two or three blocks necessary until the next McDonald’s appeared across the street.

Upon walking in the door, I realized this would be an entirely different McCulinary experience. Whereas the drab décor in the first McDonald’s buffered expectations, this recently renovated beauty sent them soaring through the roof. The walls were lined with exposed “brick” to give an industrial feel and bring the diner back to the days before this McDonald’s existed and was a gas station or adult bookstore. The wood laminate on the floor was so convincing I could’ve sworn it was kept together by sap. Rothko knock-offs lined the walls. It could have been called McDonald’s of Modern Art.

In the sake of fairness, I ordered the same items I had previously; a McMuffin, a double cheeseburger and a coffee. Service was equally friendly and efficient. Perhaps even more so, because this establishment had noticeably fewer customers. This was clear evidence of the herd being thinned by the added distance to this location, would-be diners undoubtedly swooned by the Pizza Hut and Taco Bell one must pass to reach it.

Upon receiving my food, this time on a tray, I immediately realized I’d been duped. On my tray sat a grease-soaked wrapper. Indeed the grease acting as glue to soggy bread that looked as though it had been mashed up by some power-hungry sous chef looking to sabotage the head chef. Indeed, fighting would be the only explanation for the un-melted Kraft Single on my Egg McMuffin, lying there cold and lifeless like a cheese product cadaver. I quickly finished my food and made haste back to my apartment.

Through my experience, it becomes clear that despite the glitz and glamour of the second McDonald’s, the first McDonald’s remains true to its humble roots and serves great food with no pretention. They’re the clear winner and are truly worthy of your indulgence and subsequent self-pity.

Published on January 25, 2016 at 9:21 pm