The Ultimate Ranking Of McDonald's Food Items

Ever since I was six years old, McDonald's has been a reward for behaving myself. So when I was tasked with eating the entire fast food chain's menu, I had to say yes. My guiding principle for this taste test was that adding cheese or meat to a sandwich would automatically improve its ranking, though several of the variations I tried proved otherwise. Sometimes less really is more, because it plays into a better balanced bite.

After I ate everything McDonald's offers, I was able to shape this ranking of the items from worst to best based on satisfaction, similarity, and (surprisingly) simplicity. Basically, I compared like things to each other, then compared them to unlike items. So while one burger might outrank another because it has cheese, it may not be better than a fish sandwich that's more satisfying. Ultimately, each menu item had to have a justifiable cost and be worth paying for. "How much would I pay to enjoy this again?" was a question I asked myself to balance yummy food and proportionate cost. 

I wasn't tasked with including beverages, but the coffee was cheap with a meal deal. And wow: That's bad coffee. Like maybe the worst I've ever paid for. It tastes like the bottom of the percolator — and I'm talking about the exterior. Burnt-yet-watery is quite a feat. It's like the scorchiness of Starbucks met the thin body of Dunkin' minus the flavor of either. I want my dollar back. Making coffee this badly is how you finally identify the killer in "Twin Peaks." 

This burrito is barely finger-sized and that might be a good thing. It's the blandest item, though it's brightened up with hot picante sauce. Though, it does offer a serving of egg and cheese, so you're still doing alright.

I expected more from this bagel sandwich, and surprisingly, the bagel isn't the problem. It's slathered with some kind of mayo, so it ought to be rippling with flavor — but the mayo is too salty and everything else is too bland. It never comes together. It all just tastes gross and laborious, and it buries what should be the main flavor (steak). I could forgive it if the rest of the sandwich is decent, but each component of the sandwich is in conflict in conflict with itself as well as the other. Steak for breakfast ought to be a joy, not feel like an expensive, squandered opportunity.

Steak behind sausage? Listen, it is what it is, and it comes together a little better this time. But I still wasn't able to finish any of this sandwich. Still, I hate wasting food, especially meat, so I took them home for breakfast the next day. The bagels, unsurprisingly got mighty stale fast. I don't take this as a bad thing actually, since it suggests real bread with an absence of zombie preservatives. But something is just not coming together on these bagel sandwiches, and I think it's the mayo. But at least the sausage's mighty flavor was able to stand up to the salt a mite better. It also helped that sausage patties tend to be less greasy than steak, when the mayo is making a mess of the sandwich with too much oily fat.

Well, if you've got your heart fixed on a breakfast bagel sandwich, you might as well get the bacon. It's a little less intense than the sausage and not as pricy as the steak. And since the egg is the — and I say this as a compliment here — blandest portion of the construction, the minimal amount of meat that the bacon offers presents the omelette inside with the chance to integrate with all of the salty mayo and cheese.

I'm breaking my "more meat is better" rule early with this sandwich, as it's pretty dry — but it is still pretty good. Though, I found it otherwise unremarkable. Moving on!

Yes, yes, I know you think the Big Mac should be higher, but that extra bun plays havoc. Let's be honest, fresh bread is not part of the secret of McDonald's success, and all I could taste eating here were too much bread and condiments — none of the beef, cheese, or barely even the lettuce. The Big Mac is all unrealized potential for greatness.

No egg, no cheese, no big deal. I mean, who's going to complain about sausage and a biscuit in their face? But it's a sandwich — and most sandwiches need some kind of medium between meat and bread. Though, this meat takes to the biscuit better than a muffin.

We all know a loaded sandwich beats a single ingredient on bread. The sausage and cheese McMuffin has no egg, but it definitely crosses over into legitimate breakfast sandwich territory. And, does pretty well — thanks to the melting cheese lending it a touch of moisture and some texture. 

This sandwich is pretty good and straightforward, but the cheese doesn't do a ton for this delightfully crispy Alaskan pollock. If ever a McDonald's sandwich deserved the Deluxe upgrade, it's this one. You're telling me a little whitefish doesn't love lettuce, tomato, and mayo? It's a big missed McOpportunity.

Look, I keep a 95% vegan kitchen and even I know hotcakes plus steak beats hotcakes with no steak — purely from a satiety standpoint. The cutlet here is surprisingly tender — perhaps it's mechanically-rendered. Anyway, it's like a better take on Salisbury steak. You can also get hotcakes solo, or with sausage, which I would put behind the steak in that order. 

I like the grilled bun on this sandwich, but it's a little underwhelming. The chicken is tender with a good crust, but other than that, its taste combination caps out with some mild pickles. It has an A-grade texture, but needs flavor. I cannot believe I'm suggesting that a McDonald's sandwich would benefit from more salt.

I got the spicy edition of the Deluxe McCrispy sandwich. All the spice is in the sauce, so it's definitely a step up from the regular sandwich — but still isn't totally gelling. Still, I admire the bite from the spice. At least I'm not asking, "Where's the flavor?" like I did with the regular McCrispy. Also, the chicken benefits from the textural contrast of the veggies. 

We're finally into the really nice orders. This one's an icon. What's to say? You know it, you love it,  and you probably ignore it to get the cheeseburger instead.

This is all that you could want from a fast food hash brown: all crust with a touch of allium flavor in the soft inside. It's like a sandwich with one ingredient. I am so happy eating this. I would gladly push this one up to the top because it's more satisfying than most of the breakfast sandwiches.

However, it costs about as much as a basic sandwich. Really? In my America? A hash brown really should cost $0.89 — do not speak to me of the profiteering that calls itself inflation. These hash browns are delicious but for $3 ... boy. You're testing me, McDonald's.

The happiest of meals awaits you here! I give this sandwich top marks for taste and nostalgia, but it falls behind a lot of the other burgers which offer a lot more for a nominal price bump. Still the cheeseburger is in realm of very satisfying orders. From here on out you should suffer no regrets. I can has you, always, cheeseburger. You get an absolute A+ for my memories of childhood.

This sandwich is objectively more satisfying than the regular edition, but it does feel like we've crossed a rubicon into pure consumption rather than the joy of a rare treat. Am I enjoying the flavor, or is it just viscerally satisfying to fill my mouth with this much meat and cheese in a single bite? The answer to that dilemma is yes. 

Why did nobody tell me about McGriddles before now? These things are the best! And, it's evidence of how sausage can be a superior pairing to some types of breads, despite bacon being the internet's obvious favorite in all recipes. This sandwich is great, even with no egg or cheese. It's just a sausage sandwich with pancakes for bread — and it still comes out a winner. Though, the sausage paired even better with the crumbly, powdery biscuit breadstuff.

The sausage and egg combo without cheese isn't hangover-cure country quite yet. The egg is pretty bland on its own, but it really comes to life with all the other elements in this sandwich. Come on, clown, give me a hit of what I need. Once a square of American cheese lands on this sandwich, we attain balance. At last, this progression becomes what it was always meant to be all along: a full-fledged mixture of carbs, fats, and proteins that satisfies.

This fun little number uses egg rounds rather than omelets, which is prettier but a touch more sulfuric. My guess is there's some kind of steaming action to get the eggs glossy and gelatinous, so it's not surprising there'd be a touch of that hard-boiled egg texture. This is one of my favorite breakfasts to make at home, so I'm surprised it came in more around the middle.

This is one of the few breakfast sandwiches to come with ham, and I have to say it suits the standard McMuffin very well. The chewiness is the joy. This is such a classic McDonald's sandwich, and the things wrong with it are why you order it anyway. Enjoy your strangely rubbery muffin. I sure did.

I tried this at the same time as the chicken McGriddles for comparison. While the biscuit had a bit of bad chewiness to it (think microwaved bread), it was overall still fluffy and flavorful. The meat itself is a bit mushy, but there was a nice crust on the outside. Chicken and biscuits are just good pairing and were almost as good the McGriddles.

I tried this sandwich at the same time as its bacon counterpart and wondered if the stronger sausage flavor would take to the muffin better. Ultimately, I'm putting the sausage ahead.

If you have to choose between egg and cheese for your Sausage McMuffin, egg without cheese is the smarter play. Sausage yearns for cheese less than most meats. But all three is best. 

I hadn't had one of these in 20 years. I distinctly remember it being lower-grade, dry, and textureless — like eating old newspaper. Things have changed. This biscuit is balanced; it's crisp on top and fluffy underneath. The cheese is amazing too; I've never seen such yellow. 

Also, maybe I'm just lucky, but the bacon is closer to real bacon than the strange, shattery strips I remember from decades past. Has the clown upped his game?

Now this is what the McCrispy ought to be. It's McCrispier — and perfectly flavorful with the mayo and lettuce. All it wants is a slice of tomato and/or pickles to take it home.

To me, my sweet! McGriddles are the best, even if they're strangely pluralized. This one doesn't quite offer the joy of the sausage's seasonings, but does hide a nice crunch under the spongy sandwich cake. It's pretty close to chicken and waffles — and that's something to boast about. 

This is one of the best uses of fried chicken at McDonald's. I really want to start combining McGriddles with other sandwiches to create some kind of breakfast McVoltron.

These are fantastic, and they're somehow better than a double cheeseburger — despite being almost the same thing, just with less cheese. Plus, they cost less than the double cheeseburger. They'd dominate hard if I hadn't fallen like a fool in love with the Quarter Pounder, but it's a real "Betty & Veronica" conundrum.

After the McRib was reintroduced in 1989, I knew I had to try it — even if I was a kid at the time. I know it's not legitimate barbecue — but it was the best you were going to find in 1980s suburban New England. And it betrayed me; you would have had an easier time chewing through a cow's heart. I mean look at that sloppy mess. I couldn't even pull it out of the box to take a photo without structural collapse. And yet ...

Hold up, why is the McRib so good now? It's tangy and tasty with the right amount of chewy, and the onion and pickle combo zests it just enough. A man can change, Ronald.

There are so many versions of the Quarter Pounder: double, deluxe, bacon, with cheese or without. However you take it, this was my first Quarter Pounder, and though it's not the best of the bunch, it was a lovely introduction to the joy that would soon be stuffing my stomach. It's not simply about more meat; a thicker patty means a juicier result after cooking.

McDoubles leapfrogging the Quarter Pounders was unexpected, but bigger isn't always the way to go. Not only is it the right size and the right price, but the McDouble invites bacon to contribute without letting it become overwhelming. It's big on meat and cheese with not much to distract in the way of vegetables, barring pickles and onions. While I usually like my burgers to have some countertexture and taste, sometimes you just have to let them go full-throttle at good and greasy. 

Although I love Quarter Pounders and said yes in my heart to bacon, I discovered that the regular sandwich is still better than the deluxe. Just let a Quarter Pounder be. There's no need to bring in lettuce. I also tried the regular Bacon quarter pounder, and it performed nearly as well as this. But two patties? Oh Ronald, I'll follow wherever you take me.

Ah, these hit just as hard as they did in my youth, thanks to a crisp shell just shy of being thick. Was this pink slime? McDonald's says no, but would I care if it was? You can feed me nuggets all day. (Note: Please do not. Ten is a reasonable limit.) Man, I could eat these all day or until they cooled so much the oil became distasteful, as is the case with those french fries. But again: Stop me at ten!

And trust me when I say that I know my way around broad-appeal fast food fried chicken. Even if these nugs are boneless and in no way resemble a muscular cut, they are still amazing.

Name a better fast food fry. Okay, Five Guys is pretty good, you've got me there. 

But, name a better, more iconic fry — and no, you can't do it. It was always these. McDonald's is the standard-bearer for what we've all accepted the baseline fry should be, just as Joe's Pizza is the exemplary New York City pizza slice, and nobody contests these facts. The fries delicious and so easy to eat way too many of, a quick hit of salt, starch, and fat over and over. A hallmark of  great fries (like these) is that they doesn't need sauce. Not that you should forego it, unless it's McDonald's ranch dressing, which, for some reason, tastes like corn and should be avoided. 

Sometimes you want to go for the gusto. The triple cheeseburger is here for you, my people. I enjoyed it immensely, and that was after eating four other burgers in one sitting. This burger came out as a champ for reasons similar to the bacon McDouble; I can respect a burger that goes hard at its beef and cheese and tells everything else to keep up.

The Quarter Pounder is the best class of McDonald's burgers. Every time I eat one, the "Yum!" light bulb lights up in my brain. Curiously, the standard edition beats the bacon or deluxe. Look at that crispy crust and the melting cheese! It keeps things simple, and as we've seen, embraces its pure burger character and outclasses many other sandwiches.

I'm not used to McDonald's being juicy and traditional. Onions and pickles are, once again, all you need to balance the right amount of meat, even if other sandwiches needed a little more assistance. Behold your best burger.

This is the best thing I've put in my mouth all month. Sweet pancake, fluffy eggs, neon cheese, seasoned sausage — it comes together like a dream. That seared final touch is perfection. When did I become such a sucker for sausage over bacon? Is this strictly a McDonald's phenomenon, even though the bacon here ain't bad? 

McGriddles are the best thing and the discussion is over. If you don't want to abandon cheese entirely but find it overwhelming in more than small doses, McGriddles are a great pick. The sharpness of the cheese runs against the sweetness of the pancake a bit. These beautiful little breads are running interference on any one flavor that would otherwise dominate. 

This sandwich kept appearing and vanishing from the menu before I could add it to my cart. When I finally nabbed one, it turned out to be terrific. The intersection of a BLT and a BEC proves to be the best of both worlds. The biscuit definitely helps. I did not expect this to beat the McGriddles, but man, what a combo. All hail the new Mayor McCheese. I've got my new go-to order for the morning. 

I've reviewed a lot of burgers over my tenure, including both luxury steakhouse crown jewels where the beef does all the talking and fast food cheeseburgers. I am also a primo breakfast sandwich home cook, so I know what elements really make a sandwich come together and why McDonald's flubbed one of my favorite bagel and mayo formulas. But even I can't pretend to yet know the ways of the mysterious McGriddles. Catch me experimenting at home with a McGriddles copycat recipe to perfect the highest form of breakfast sandwich out there. 

To tackle this assignment and its many varying sandwiches, I focused first on the "oomph" factor. Did the first bite of each item hit like a left hook? It's not gourmet food, but it should provoke a deeply satisfying and immediate reaction. Beyond that, I tried to compare each sandwich to others that it was like, and kept in mind menu items that were more unique. Bacon and beef fat are powerfully fulfilling flavors, so did a simpler order, lacking those bold elements, achieve the unity of a truly addictive burger or fish sandwich? Did the chicken taste ... y'know, chickeny? These were all important questions that I had to consider as I feasted.