The McRib will always be so much more than a burger to me
I vividly remember the first time I had one.
It was 1998. Billie Piper was number one with her criminally underrated second single Girlfriend and Mulan had just been released in UK cinemas nationwide.
To mark this monumental event (Mulan not Billie), McDonald’s introduced a new burger – the oriental McRib, the shining star in the restaurant’s special ‘Tastes of The Orient’ menu (accompanied by a horrendous TV advert I discovered while writing this article).
All I knew was that it tasted absolutely nothing like anything from The Orient but was by far the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten.
It was a succulent pork burger, coated in barbecue sauce with friend onions in a golden toasted sesame bun. I loved McDonald’s as a kid, so much so it’s a wonder I don’t have numerous health conditions today.
It was love at first bite. The McRib was so tangy, the meat was so juicy and with the sharp crunch of the chunky fried onions, the McChicken sandwich, which had always been my go-to, just paled in comparison.
I’d found my new order, the new comfort meal I knew would always be there to being me joy in my time of need.
And then one day, when I returned to the Golden Arches to get what could well have been my 10th McRib of the month, it had gone. Vanished without so much as a goodbye.
In hindsight, it was probably my first real experience of grief. Until then my only real concept of losing a loved one came from watching Littlefoot mourning the death of his mum in The Land Before Time and then Simba watching his father Mufasa get crushed to death by stampeding wildebeest.
Suddenly, I felt like I could relate.
Of course, I still made at lest one trip to McDonald’s each week and soon learned to remember the beauty in a McChicken sandwich and six nuggets drenched in barbecue sauce.
Life moved on and I’d accepted I might never see the McRib again but there were other joys in life.
Then at university I met who would eventually become my best friend Iain and I can’t remember when exactly but we found we had a mutual appreciation for the McRib.
He had the same memories; when I talked about the McRib with the same excitement others had about their childhood idols I could tell he just got me, and me him.
Then in 2014 the unthinkable happened. I never thought I’d see the day but the McRib was back on McDonald’s menus, no longer incorrectly dubbed ‘The Taste of The Orient’ and I knew from that moment my waistline would never be the same again.
Now in my twenties and wiser to the world though, I knew our time was limited and I had to make of the few weeks we had together. And did just that. I gobbled up more McRibs in the space of a few weeks than any doctor would recommend for a lifetime and while my gut never forgave me, it was worth every bite.
When the day came to say goodbye, my flatmate and I met in the McDonald’s on Oxford Street. We ordered two McRibs each and according to Instagram that was exactly 504 weeks ago to this day when I marked the moment with a tearful post.
At least this time I was able to bid a proper farewell, send the McRib on its way and take comfort knowing I savoured every day it was here until one day, hopefully we’d be reunited again.
Since it was last on British shores I know I’ve consumed exactly 12 McRibs – one for every day I was in Japan; a haven where the McRib is a permanent fixture on its infinitely superior menu.
Today, McDonald’s has announced my beloved will be back on the menu for a limited time only. Now at 36, I can’t consume McDonald’s as extremely as I did in 2014 without a sharp pain in my chest reminding me that just around the corner is my next chapter as a middle-aged McAddict.
This time around I will tread with slightly more caution, or at least try to.
But still, the excitement of being reunited with the McRib is something I can only compare to seeing a school friend who moved abroad and your time together is limited to fortnightly stints when they return to the UK for fleeting family visits once a decade.
This time around, I’ve grown older, life no longer has the space for daily catch-ups like it once did, and when we’re together it might not feel the same as before.
But the comfort of returning to an old memory from childhood will always make the McRib so much more than just a burger. People come and go in life, but the McRib always comes back, never changing, always reliable every time.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
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