low-syn McDonalds Tex Mex Stack

Here for the Tex Mex Stack? Of course you are, but first…

Honestly, we’re an embarrassment as a nation sometimes. Build-a-Bear were running a promotion today where you could buy a teddy-bear for the price of the age of your child – so if your charming little sperm-blossom was seven, seven quid was all you’d need to pay for a cuddly toy. Not a bad deal: certainly I’ve paid more than that to stuff a bear in my time. However – somewhat inevitably – the promotion has led to ‘angry and violent scenes’ as parents who should know better jostle and fight in eight-hour queues to get last year’s stock at a discount. Why? It’s a teddy bear they’re giving out, not an hour riding Tom Hardy’s face like one of those novelty cars you get outside of a supermarket.

It makes me cringe, and the cherry on the cake? A mother saying she had taken her kid out of school “because it’s not important”! Bloody hell. What’s more important than a solid education? Why of course, it’s allowing your child to get kneed in the face whilst you pull the extensions out of whichever u-ok-hunner has taken up camp in front of you. I watch scenes like this with the same barely-concealed contempt that I save for people who throw litter from their cars, or those who kick cats, or Theresa May, a woman so devoid of humanity and warmth that you can easily imagine her asking her driver to back the car up after hitting a deer just so she could watch the light leave its eyes.

However, there’s a flipside to national excitement. I have enjoyed, for the most part, the patriotism and cheerfulness that swept across the nation like a Sports Direct-branded blanket over the last couple of weeks when we (mostly) believed that ‘football was coming home’. You must understand that I can’t bear football – nothing about watching 22 men with pipe-cleaner haircuts kicking a bladder around a field excites me – but even I’ve been swept up in daring to dream. Paul had to stop me hanging a flag from our window, telling me that we already looked like fully-paid-up National Front members, what with our skinhead haircuts and Dr Martens, and perhaps we didn’t need to reinforce that look further. I know it’s not racist to display our flag, despite the myriad of Facebook posts informing me so from people you know get given Lynx sets for Christmas, but even so, it does have a certain image problem.

But it’s just been nice having people out celebrating, smiling, enjoying themselves without much bother instead of the usual sights that accompany football fans abroad – men with tits bouncing on their knees throwing plastic chairs at anyone who elongates their vowels, women pissing in the street, people shouting ENG-UR-LAND and getting spittle everywhere. Admittedly it hasn’t all been rosy – you’ll have seen those shameful pictures of the idiots jumping up and down on that ambulance and taking it off the road. I’m not one for eye-for-an-eye, but I can’t help but hope someone jumps up and down on their larynx as retribution. Really, what are we missing?

But morons like that represent the tiniest part of what makes our country great. Seeing everyone celebrating when we scored, and then commiserating when we lost, was thrilling. Let’s be proud of where we got to, instead of immediately running onto Facebook to be the cleverest dick who can wail the loudest about REAL HEROES and fuck-all’s coming home. It’s beneath us.

Tell you what isn’t beneath you, though: wearing one of our fabulous new badges. In a shameful bit of self-promotion fuelled with the need to pay for our trip to Canada, we’ve commissioned a charming range of badges that sum up being a twochubbycubs can. Naturally, I’ve had to restock the supplies about eight times over because the ones with c*nt on went almost immediately.

I know, they will be wearing them in all the fashion shows and, would you believe, we’ve already had some saucy bugger sending us a picture of the Proud C*nt badge hanging off her clitoris ring. At least I think that’s what it was supposed to be – either that or she’d dropped the badge into a runover Spam baguette. Want one? By all means – they’re mostly back in stock – click here to be whisked straight to them in a new window.

Full disclosure: we profit from these. Because durrr. Something needs to pay for the extensive anal trauma I suffered from someone trying to stuff me in Build a Bear. Mind we’ve sold almost 600 badges so far from a few posts in our group so…

On that note, shall we get to the recipe? McDonalds Tex Mex Stack – it’s high in syns, but you could leave a slice of cheese out to drop the syns further – or take the view that it’s better to spend the syns on something amazing rather than ordering takeaway. Again. Tsk. To the Tex Mex Stack then…

Tex Mex Stack

Tex Mex Stack

Seriously, how good does this look?

The chip and sauce bucket is from Amazon, by the way.

McDonalds fakeaway Tex Mex Stack

Prep

Cook

Total

Yield 1 burger

Our final product in our Great Burgers from McDonalds range is this fakeaway takeaway - the Tex Mex Burger. It's high in syns because it has two slices of Mexicana cheese - remove that and replace with the normal cheese allowance and you'll be cooking on gas!

Ingredients

  • 1 wholemeal bun (1x HeB)
  • 200g 5% beef mince
  • two slices of Mexicana cheese (9 syns)
  • half a handful of Cool Original Dorito's (2 syns)
  • 1 slice of tomato
  • handful of lettuce leaves
  • 1 tbsp barbecue sauce (1 syn)

Instructions

  • make the burgers (see notes)
  • cook the burgers (see notes)
  • meanwhile, slice the bun
  • add a burger and then a slice of cheese, then another burger and another slice of cheese
  • place in the Doritos, followed by the tomato and lettuce leaves
  • spoon the barbecue sauce over the top half of the bun and drop on top
  • eat!

Notes

  • a burger press will make easy work of the burgers but if you haven't got one just roll the mince into a ball and flatten into a burger shape
  • you can cook the burgers however you please - we used our Tefal Optigrill on the 'burger' setting but you could use a frying pan over a high heat (spray in a little oil first), under a high grill, on a George Foreman or even on a barbecue. It's up to you!
  • you'll find Mexicana cheese at nearly all supermarkets - if you can't any spicy cheese will do
  • you can reduce the syns by using your Healthy Extra A choice for the cheese and adding some chilli flakes to the barbecue sauce
  • don't forget - you get mince in our fantastic Muscle Food deals! 
  • there's no need for egg or any binders in this - the mince will hold just fine as long as you spend a few minutes giving it a good squeeze and a mix first

Lovely, right? That’s the Tex Mex Stack! Fancy one of the other burgers? Click to be taken straight there!

Yum!

J

low syn McDonalds New York Stack

The McDonalds New York Stack – almost single-handedly responsible for reversing a fair few weeks of us being good, I can tell you. However, whack it through the syns calculator and it’s enough to give Mags a fit of the vapours, so we’ve come up with a low-syn take on it which actually tastes almost exactly the same. To fully replicate the taste experience, make sure you put it in a box with nicotine-scented fingers, leave it to sweat for about thirty minutes and then mash it with your fist so it’s all smeared and gross.

Sorry for the lack of recipes at the moment, but it’s too hot – it’s as simple as that. As soon as either one of my nipples thaws out I’m immediately too hot and start working at 40% capacity, like an overheated engine. But rather than leaving you famished, let’s barrel out some of the recipes we’ve got stuck in draft – beginning with this New York Stack!

New York Stack

New York Stack

low syn McDonalds New York Stack

Prep

Cook

Total

Yield 1 burger

Of the four burgers that appeared in the Great Tastes of America menu that McDonalds did, this was our easy favourite - not least because a bagel always cheers the soul, doesn't it? The proper version comes in after over 30 syns, so this is a big old saving!

Ingredients

  • 1x New York Bakery Co. Bagel Thins, Seeded (1x HeA)
  • 200g 5% beef mince
  • 20g reduced-fat cheddar (½x HeA)
  • 2 slices of bacon, fat removed
  • few slices of gherkins
  • handful of lettuce leaves
  • 1 tbsp extra-light mayonnaise (1 syn)
  • 1 tbsp tomato sauce (1 syn)

Instructions

  • make the burgers (see notes)
  • cook the burgers (see notes) and bacon
  • meanwhile, slice the bun
  • spread the tomato sauce on the top half of the bagel half
  • top the bottom half of the bagel with a slice of cheese, two burgers, bacon, gherkins, mayonnaise, lettuce leaves and other slice of cheese
  • top with the other bagel half
  • eat!

Notes

  • a burger press will make easy work of the burgers but if you haven't got one just roll the mince into a ball and flatten into a burger shape
  • you can cook the burgers however you please - we used our Tefal Optigrill on the 'burger' setting but you could use a frying pan over a high heat (spray in a little oil first), under a high grill, on a George Foreman or even on a barbecue. It's up to you!
  • don't forget - you get both mince and bacon in our fantastic Muscle Food deals! 
  • there's no need for egg or any binders in this - the mince will hold just fine as long as you spend a few minutes giving it a good squeeze and a mix first

Courses burger

Cuisine McDonalds

Yum! Mind our McDonalds-a-likes don’t begin and end with the New York Stack, you know. We’ve also done some cracking takes on other stuff, see?

Tasty! Remember to share!

J

mcdonalds-style crispy chicken wraps

Have you stumbled onto this blog, face agog with the idea of a mcdonalds-style crispy chicken wraps, but Slimming World friendly? Well, you’ve come to the right place. But first, some nonsense. There’s always nonsense!

I had a half day off work today. Now, that might not sound very exciting – a Tuesday afternoon all to myself – but it was glorious. I love Paul to bits (even if he cuddled into me the other night, whispered ‘who has a sexy arse…’ and then followed it up with ‘not yours, your arse smells like death‘) but see a day where I can do my own thing and trot about is never a bad time. I decided, possibly against my better judgement, to go for a walk in the woods again – this time to a place called Plankey Mill. The weather decided to play ball, my morning’s work wasn’t too strenuous and, with all of the impulsiveness of someone who says he is trying to save money but finds the whole affair rather boring, I bought two annual passes for me and Chubs McGee for the National Trust so that I wouldn’t have to pay £2 for parking. Makes sense, right?

I did, somewhat mischievously, put myself down as a doctor (I have health anxiety, I spend all day diagnosing myself with various illnesses, so it sort of works) and Paul does as a ‘Rear Admiral’. Well, he’s certainly swabbed more than his fair share of poop decks, the filthy swine.

Plankey Mill is a charming walk along the River Allen and we used to go there a lot as children, possibly because it was free, possibly because my parents were hoping we’d fall in and be swept away to pastures new so they could jet off to Ayia Napa and open an English Breakfasts bar called Sticky Fingers. I remember it fondly through nicotine-tinted glasses and thought it would be the perfect place to spend an afternoon. I remember reading that most of the path had been swept away in 2014 but thought that the National Trust must have sorted it by now, given they had Rear Admirals in their ranks.

I was right, but only sort of. I turned off the A69 just outside of Hexham after spending a good ten minutes shouting animatedly at the back of a caravan, who I can assure you was in absolutely no rush at all, thank you very much. When I eventually managed to overtake I snuck a glance at the driver and yep, easily 125 years old, driving with that eyes-on-the-road-fixed-lips-no-nonsense expression that they always have. I like to think he pulled over later and felt guilty about holding up the traffic, or, even better, drove into a tree in an explosion of MDF and travel kettle shrapnels. Either or.

The first problem arose when, after lulling me into a false sense of security with one bold road sign, the directions to Plankey Mill suddenly stopped, and I found myself hurtling along single-file tracks with only sheep nodding at me as company. After farting about for a good twenty minutes I decided, somewhat reasonably I might add, that it was unlikely that a river walk would take place at the very top of a hill, and so spun the car around and down an unmarked path. After half a mile or so of uncertainty, a tiny sign that I assume Emperor Hadrian put up as a side-project appeared and I knew I was on the right path. Sadly, there was someone else on my path, an Audi coming in my direction. Single file, remember.

Now, because this is going to make me sound like an arsehole, let me preface the next bit with a simple fact: she drove past TWO passing places and then up the hill AFTER she saw me. I had nowhere to pull over. Look, I’m no good with words, so I built you a CGI representation using only the top-end computer software. It took me hours:

explain

So there she was, in her spotless white Audi, nasty cheap sunglasses making her look like a bee, all but demanding I reverse my car back up the twisty turny hill. Well, no, that’s not happening. I stood my ground. So did she. Mexican stand-off style. Eventually she folded like a cheap suit and began the labourious process of reversing down the twists and turns, only she did such a piss-poor job of it she ended up in the muddy verge twice AND she had to go back to the first passing point she passed as in the time it had taken her to realise that an Audi doesn’t mean she’s Queen of the Road (my title), another car had pulled in behind her.

I make no apologies for it, I really don’t. I gave her a sickly little wave and a tinkly  ‘thanks EVER so much’ as I drove past her and she looked absolutely furious. You can imagine just how much distress that gave me. I carried down the track and eventually ended up where I remember we used to park way back when, in a little field by the river.

Only now – of course – the farmer had decided that he really ought to squeeze a few pennies from everyone and had put a gate on the road, only accessible by the payment of £2 into the honesty box. I know, it’s £2, but come on. This is what I hate about Britain – if there’s a chance to shake some money out of your pockets, by god people will find it. Already grumbling, I parked up amongst discarded disposable BBQs, empty bottles and other such nonsense. It was a mess and a bloody shame. Nevertheless, I decided to crack on and make the best of it, knowing that the beauty of the countryside would soon envelop me. I fair pranced over the wee bridge crossing the river (though I was surprised not to find the farmer at the other end asking me for £3 towards the wear and tear I’d placed on the steel cabling) and happened across another sign. Perhaps it would warn me of poisonous plants or a diversion or something else equally as arresting.

No, the bloody path was closed. The 2014 landslide had taken away a good chunk of the path and it just wasn’t safe. I did ponder as to whether they were planning on waiting for another flood to see if a replacement bridge would be washed down the river but the thought provided little comfort. The sign did helpfully point out that there was another path back over the river that would take me to roughly where I wanted to be – all I had to do was to follow the path marked in brown. Listen, I’ve been following ‘the brown path’ all my life, mate, and even the thought of an extra mile didn’t deter me.

The fucking cliffs did, though. Brown path my arse! I crossed the river, searched high and low for the start of the brown path (clearly marked it said – with what, a sheer rock face?) and could I buggery find it? There was no path. Of course not. Perhaps if I’d thought ahead to bring my crampons (in fact, I would need to have thought even further ahead than that, as I’d need to learn what a fucking crampon is first) I could have deftly made my way along like a morbidly obese Spiderman, but no. Hmm.

On the verge of giving up, I spotted one more public footpath heading in the opposite direction and made for it, only to find the very first field was full of cows. I hate cows. They trouble me. Yeah, they’re happy enough eating all day and shitting everywhere, but so is Paul, and I don’t have the risk of being turned into a lumpy paste on the floor by him. You can’t trust a cow, especially when they’re hot and skittish. Speaking of hot meat…


advert - freezer-01


I threw up my hands in a camp display of annoyance, stomped back to the car and sulked for five minutes. All I wanted to do was to walk: how rare to hear someone of my bulk say that. But no! Plus I’d wasted two fucking pound to park my car, read a sign and be disappointed from quite literally every direction. I spun the car round, made for the gate, waited for someone with a face like a charity shop handbag to fumble the catch and open the gate for me, and sped off.

Luckily, my day was saved a mere mile or two later, when I spotted the actual car park I should have parked in, Staward Gorge. Oops. Clearly I was too busy singing along to something shite on the radio as I had managed to drive past it twice on my way in. Bah! It was quiet, though, and after sticking my temporary Rear Admiral badge in the window, I left the car and headed up into the forest, and it was wonderful. Very hilly in places, yes, and my ankles were protesting almost as soon as I got out of the car, but I walked for an hour or so in one direction before returning to the car, only passing a couple of old folk and a committed hiker on the way.

Can I quickly mention those hikers who go out for a quick walk in the country and yet dress up like they’re trekking the Hindu Kush? I can understand a trekking pole if you’re a little unsteady, but I passed one guy who looked, from a distance, like he was being fucked from behind by a wardrobe clad in rustling, luminous polyester. That can’t be comfortable. I’d understand if he was walking Hadrian’s Wall or similar, but it’s a 5 mile loop and frankly, if I can shift my colossal bulk around it without too much bother in my work shoes and Tesco Finest work trousers, so can he. I was tempted to ask if he was selling pegs when he walked past but frankly, he had a crazy look in his eye and I didn’t want to be found two months on face-down in the bushes with a telescopic peg hammer wedged in my arse.

I do recommend the walk, though – I can’t tell you how much I love living in Northumberland. The place is awash with beautiful, hidden idylls like this. Yes, you’ll break a sweat, but the feeling of reaching the top, being brought back to life with a National Trust defibrillator and then taking in the views of the rolling fields, shaded forest and little swirling river below, well, nothing beats it. I made my way back, cheer restored. One thing to note: I decided to go for a piss before the drive back only to find a big warning sign on the door from the National Trust telling me ‘HONEY BEES ARE NESTING IN THE ROOF – PLEASE USE CAUTION’. Caution? Nevermind fucking caution, use fucking napalm!

I jest, I’m all for bees, my garden is full of bee-friendly flowers, but christ almighty, there’s a time and a place and it’s not when I’ve got my cock out, I can assure you. I did think about chancing it, reasoning that if the danger was that high they’d shut the loo – but when I creaked open the door and heard the very loud, very threatening buzzing, I minced right back to the car, the need to urinate completely gone. All down my leg. No, not quite, but goodness me – who needs that type of threat when they’re having a piss? They might as well have put ‘Shit carefully, folks, as we’ve rigged one of the toilet seats with plastic explosives and a depth charge’. I haven’t heard such terrifying buzzing since I lived with Mary and I accidentally turned on what I thought was her thermos flask but turned out to be her robocock. I’m surprised she didn’t chip her teeth, the dirty bitch.

I decided to cap the day off with a visit to Brockbrushes (our local pick your own fruit affair), but after parking up and negotiating – in turn – the sausage shop, the ice-cream parlour, the garden furniture stand, the farm shop, the coffee shop, the herb garden, the bouncy castle, the second bouncy castle, the cheese stand and then finally, FINALLY, the bloody place where you get the baskets to go pick your own, I was told that they had no fruit. No raspberries to pick, no blackcurrants, no redcurrants, no nothing. Strawberries were ‘very limited’, apparently. I did ask the guy behind the counter if there was anything I could pick in the hope he’d at least have a sense of humour and suggest ‘your arse’ (like I would have) but he just shook his head grimly. This annoys me – picking your own fruit is literally the point of a pick-your-own-fruit farm. If they have no fruit, fair enough, but then put a bloody sign up on your fancy smiling strawberry sign by the side of the A1. Don’t waste my time. I took a huff and walked back to the car, stopping only to admire some farm-made cheese before realising I only have £270 in my wallet and thus, couldn’t afford it. I came home.

Now, that probably all sounds like I had a rotten day, but listen, I thrive on any excuse to have a moan and a whinge. I’m never happier then I am when I have something to kvetch silently to myself about. It’s just a shame for you guys that this is my outlet for it and you’re treated to 2000 words on what amounts to me driving to a river, walking a couple of miles and not buying strawberries. But you love it, you know you do.

What you’re going to definitely love, though, is this recipe. See, McDonalds isn’t great food, but it fills a hole and we bloody love their chicken wraps. But oh no: they’re between 17 to 25 syns or so each. Not worth that much. So we decided to make our own. Here follows the recipe! This makes enough for four wraps.

mcdonalds-style crispy chicken wraps

to make mcdonalds-style crispy chicken wraps, you’ll need:

  • 2 chicken breasts (which easily makes enough for four wraps, so if there’s only two of you, you only need one) (especially if you’re using a chicken breast from our Musclefood deal – click here – because you could beat someone to death with one of these)
  • 2 eggs, beaten
  • 30g panko (6 syns) mixed with black pepper
  • 125g fat – free natural yoghurt (fat-free, watch your syns)
  • lettuce
  • cucumber
  • four wraps – one BFree wrap is currently a HEB, but do check

Panko is a dried breadcrumb which is super crunchy and tasty. Buy it in big supermarkets or on Amazon by clicking here. If you can’t find it, whiz up a breadbun, but remember to syn it – though even then it’ll only be 1.5 syn per person if you use one breadbun for all the chicken.

to make mcdonalds-style crispy chicken wraps, you should:

  • cut the chicken breasts in half horizontally to make four thin breasts
  • dip each chicken breast into the beaten egg, shake off the excess and then dip in the panko
  • spray with a little spray oil and bake in the oven at 200 degrees for 15-20 minutes – you’ll get nice crunchy chicken
  • cut each chicken breast into three strips
  • heat the wrap for a moment or two in a dry frying pan
  • assemble the wrap by laying out the lettuce and cucumber, and then place the three strips of chicken on top
  • add a good dollop of whichever sauce from below tickles your fancy
  • fold the wrap up from the bottom, and then tuck in from the sides

Now, here are the four variants to help sex up your mcdonalds-style crispy chicken wraps:

  • to make a garlic mayo wrap: mix together 1 tsp garlic powder and 2 tbsp low-fat mayonnaise (Morrisons NuMe mayonnaise is just 1 syn per tablespoon!)
  • to make a sweet chilli wrap: making your own sweet chilli sauce is a clart on – pick up a supermarket one, which is roughly 1½ syns per tablespoon)
  • to make a BBQ bacon and chicken wrap: grill two bacon medallions (they’re in our MF box!) and make up the sauce from this recipe or use supermarket BBQ sauce for about a syn per tablespoon
  • to make the hot peri peri chicken one: mix together 125g fat free natural yoghurt, 1 tsp dried garlic, 1 tbsp sriracha (½ syn per tablespoon) and ½ tsp salt

We nicked the sleeves from the chicken wraps we had to buy from McDonalds to do the comparison with. I know, it’s a hard life. If you’re struggling to fold your flaps in, and I understand that’s a problem that comes with age, buy one of these wee things – it’ll hold your wrap!

Eee yes, we do spoil you. If you enjoyed our ‘taking a naughty meal and making a low syn version’ why not have a look at our KFC chicken zinger tower burger? If that doesn’t give you a wide-on, nothing will!

Looking for more fakeaway or chicken ideas? Click the buttons below…

poultrysmallfakeawayssmall

Mwah!

J