In Defense of Arby’s
Illustration: Bailey Hummel
In Late March, after spending two hours rifling through bins of discount suits in a sweltering Goodwill where the vibe could best be described as "crumbling," I saw the light.It was the weekend before my boyfriend's sister's wedding, and as usual, we had waited until the last minute to find outfits appropriate enough to maintain the façade that we had our shit together in front of his family (don't worry, we don't). I saw it when I turned out of the parking lot, sweating, depleted and notably ravenous. A familiar red cowboy hat with the word "Arby's" scribbled across it in a font that would bring a tear to Comic Sans' eye. I slapped my hand down on the turn signal and jerked the wheel toward the meats before I could even begin to play the "what do you want to eat" game with my partner. Why, might you ask? Because I love Arby's, I will defend its honor until I drown in a river of its cheese sauce by way of their Beef 'n Cheddar.
If you're anything like me, you've not only seen Arby's ridiculed in the media, but you've also likely heard it disparaged in your circle of familiar eaters. Maybe it was even you that mocked Arby's, shaming individuals like me who've been banished to silently loving Jamocha shakes and curly fries like players in a Shakespearean tragedy. Maybe you took issue with the chain’s “We Have The Meats,” slogan, a straightforward and bold brand statement about what Arby’s is about and the type of clientele it hopes to attract (me and probably Matty Matheson). Some say the tone is aggressive, I say it's passionate.
Whether you've witnessed the Arby's hazing or bullied the chain yourself, somewhere between when it was founded in 1964 and our current post-pandemic, pre-Blade Runner hellscape, it became cool to brutalize Arby's. Like the chubby kid wearing his dad's Periwinkle ruffled dress shirt to the school dance, Arby's has been receiving metaphorical swirlies from television shows like The Simpsons and Saturday Night Live and has been rejected by fast food lovers who would rather dance with beefcakes like McDonald's – even though they can't even keep their ice cream machine working. ALLEGEDLY.
Why the hate for Arby's? Why not Chick-fil-A, an odious chain with a demented fanbase that mobs its restaurants the way that insurrectionists stormed the Capitol on January 6th? It refuses to be open on Sundays, its sandwiches are middling at best and most importantly, it's on the wrong side of LGBTQ rights. Why not Jack in the Box, with their rubbery cafeteria-like burger meat and tacos that taste as if Fisher Price food came to life? This question has plagued me for years, and while I don't pretend to know the answer, the notion that Arby's could be anything but delicious is utterly absurd. Consider their signature Beef 'n Cheddar – the shining star of the menu. Thinly-shaved roast beef piled high on a slightly-sweet onion roll, lacquered with their tangy Red Ranch sauce and eventually smothered in Arby's prestigious cheddar cheese sauce – a rich concoction that is a saltier, grittier cousin to the cheez whiz. I prefer to liberally cover the sandwich with a packet of their smoky and zesty Arby's sauce, which is like BBQ sauce, but better. Pair that with their flawlessly seasoned, crispy curly fries and a thick Jamocha shake – a smooth and velvety milkshake blended with toothsome milk chocolate and robust coffee – and you've got yourself the crown jewel of fast food meals; bold, fearless, and willing to take your tastebuds on a rollercoaster ride of flavor.
Don't believe me? Ask the pastry chef I worked for that swore by the Arby's cherry turnover, packed with bright and treacly cherry filling and baked to flaky perfection. Ask Doug Parker, a WWII veteran who ate a piquant roast-beef slider with Swiss cheese at Arby's every day until the chain granted him free meals for life. Ask the TikToker I just saw on my "for you page," who boasted that he is keeping Arby's in business and pledged that if there was one person in the world who loves Arby's, it is him. I don't know his name, and I don't need to. I love him. You can even ask Amanda Peet's character, Judith, in the 2001 comedy "Saving Silverman," who begs Steve Zahn's character, Wayne, for a Big Montana (a discontinued half-pound behemoth of roast beef on a sesame seed bun) whilst being held hostage. For every "I'm so hungry I could eat at Arby's" that The Simpsons puts out, there are stories like these. Tales of individuals who know the meats and aren't afraid to shout it from the rooftops.
On the sweltering Saturday that my boyfriend and I found ourselves in the drive-thru serenading Arby’s with lyrics of Todd Rundgren’s “Hello, It’s Me,” we feasted on gorgeously messy Beef ‘n Cheddar sandwiches covered in so much Arby’s sauce that it dripped down our hands as we took affectionate bites. We washed each spirited morsel down with ice-cold sodas and smiled, relishing in our newly minted post-Arbytal bliss. So next time you're perusing your local fast food options, consider whether you want to order your 10th Mexican Pizza from Taco Bell or if you're ready to start eating like the royalty you are. Pull into your local Arby's and order yourself some magic. Buy the ticket. Take the ride. Make sure you ask for extra Arby's sauce on the side.
Hilary Harty is a Chilean freelance writer and playlist curator based in Seattle. Her favorite thing about food is its ability to transport eaters to another time or place with a single bite. She daydreams about dining on opulent seafood towers whilst Diego Luna professes his love to her in Spanish. Follow her on instagram @iamsoupdumpling for more shenanigans.