Valhalla Awaits: An ode to Arby's new Steak Nuggets

People like to make fun of Arby’s.

I don’t. I’m an Arby’s apologist. Though, to be fair, I have remarkably low standards. And, well ... they’ve got the meats.

Take their classic roast beef sandwich. I swear there was a time in my youth when it was simply referred to as a “Regular.” Which was - and is - the most appropriately descriptive name I’ve ever heard for a menu item. Because it’s just that. Regular.

And if you weren’t ... you would be.

In about twenty minutes.

The regular goes right through you in a triumphant blaze of glory. And I mean that as a compliment. It’s delicious at first bite with a long, lingering aftertaste to satisfy your senses as you return it to earth.

To this day, the classic roast beef is still just a heaping wad of thin-sliced beef on a sesame seed bun. That’s it. Regular in every way. Simple and majestic. Designed for true flavor connoisseurs who want to actually taste the nuance in the roast beef and enjoy the silky tenderness of moist bread, unencumbered by any other toppings best saved for the proletariat.

Wanna get fancy? Fine. Throw a little Horsey Sauce on that bastard and, buddy, you’ve got yourself a sandwich the way God intended. Stacked high and covered in pureed thoroughbred. Presumably.

All this is to say that I’m legit psyched for their new Steak Nuggets.

I’ve seen the ads. They ain’t fancy. Just perfectly well done nuggets of steak. Presumably.

And probably cut from the dumbest, cheapest cattle on planet Earth. The kind of cows that play Big Buck Hunter at the bar and then start a fight with the wagyu. Because, yeah, those Steak Nugget cattle got marbling. But it’s ACTUAL marbles wrapped in a tube sock that they use to beat the hell out of the smart cows.

When the Steak Nugget-grade bovine go to slaughter they chug a warm beer and cannonball into the slicer. Because they know Valhalla awaits and savor what they’re about to become: Tiny delicious chunks of overcooked fast food flesh bites. Charred to hell on the outside. Nary a drop of blood on the inside.

I can’t wait to try them. Bless you, Arby’s. Steak Nuggets are basically all I’ve ever wanted from fast food. Just bring me my chunks of singed beef, and then I’ll show myself out.

In about twenty minutes. Presumably.