If I never see this side again it'll be too soon. Meal deals are a British institution. The combinations are virtually limitless, and entire online communities have sprung up around them. Enthusiasts share their favourite picks to be judged by fellow fans, while countless tradespeople, office workers and others depend on these brilliantly affordable and filling lunches to power them through the day. A meal deal typically consists of a main — anything from sushi to pasta salad or a classic sandwich — alongside a side, which might be a fruit pot, yoghurt or packet of crisps, plus a drink.
I decided to examine the available data for the UK to discover which meal deal combinations Britons favour most, then sample them for myself. If they're the nation's top choices, surely they must be rather tasty? Not quite.
According to the latest figures from Tesco, the most popular meal combination nationwide is the Chicken Club Sandwich, the Egg Protein Pot and a Red Bull. Despite the sheer variety on offer, the UK's favourite side turns out to be two hard-boiled eggs that have been languishing in a plastic container in the supermarket chiller for heaven knows how long. I ventured out during my lunch break to get hold of this protein-packed, energy-boosting meal and discover what all the hype was about.
Having lived in the UK for two years, I'm well acquainted with meal deals. Yet the sight of those two pallid eggs languishing in their plastic container beneath the unforgiving fluorescent lighting of my local Tesco has always given me the creeps. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I'd actually have to eat them — but today was that fateful day.
The eggs were submerged in roughly half a centimetre of greyish eggy liquid, which immediately turned my stomach. The sandwich I selected needed to be as dry as possible to counterbalance the mysterious egg moisture, so I scrutinised each Chicken Club meticulously. One where mayonnaise was oozing from every gap was rejected, as was another where the tomato had escaped the confines of the bread and spread across the crust, rendering it soggy. My third option appeared sufficiently dry, so with my Red Bull in hand I made my way to the till to pay and carry on.
Once back home, I decided to tackle the most daunting element of my lunch first — the eggs. The plastic wrapping was slightly distended, and when I peeled it back it released a waft of sulphurous air. I foolishly brought the eggs close to my nose for a quick smell check and immediately wished I hadn't. The stench coming from these eggs ought to be classified as a war crime, and anyone who's ever consumed them in the office deserves to face trial at The Hague. The peculiar egg liquid oozed onto my hand and a tear rolled down my cheek as I took my first mouthful. Given the pungent smell, I'd expected the egg to be boiled to death with that odd greenish-grey tinge overcooked eggs tend to develop, but it was actually a reasonable yellow. The texture was grainy. The taste was farts.
I managed one bite before taking the eggs into the kitchen to offer them to my friend. "That upsets me" was her reaction when I attempted to pass the eggs on to her. I chucked them in the bin.
By contrast, the Chicken Club was like a free holiday in Greece. I never imagined a simple chicken sandwich could bring me such delight, but anything capable of removing the egg flavour from my mouth would be most welcome. It was fresh, nicely seasoned and not overly soggy. My sole complaint is that six slices of bread for lunch, accompanied by chicken, tomato, lettuce, cheese and bacon is slightly excessive — though it's a minor quibble. I nearly polished off the sandwich, but was defeated right at the end when I bit into a piece of chicken that was suspiciously gritty. The final corner of my sandwich also ended up in the bin, on top of the eggs.
The egg taste continued to haunt me and whenever I exhaled through my nose I could still detect the stench of sulphur. If there's one thing guaranteed to eliminate any lingering flavour it's the chemical-laden, sugar-packed Red Bull that constituted the final stage of my lunch. While Red Bull has never been a particular favourite of mine, this one was nothing short of heavenly. Sweet, delicious, and with 52,398 mg of caffeine coursing through my veins, bashing out this review felt effortless.
I like and respect the culture of meal deals — but if I ever see one of those egg pots near me again, it'll be too soon. I'll stick with a packet of crisps from now on.
