*look around nervously*
I'm Greasetrap. I'm, uh, a dragon. Bigger than a dog, but smaller than a horse. Not that I'm like either of those things. I'd probably taste better than a horse. I mean, I'd have to, right? Nasty, terrible things.
Where was I? Food. Right.
I was on my way to the food cart pods in downtown PDX when something caught my eye. There are a LOT of restaurants in a city, so this isn't entirely unexpected. Going inside, I saw something tasty and just had to have it.
The Arby's Venison Sandwich was pretty much exactly that: a cut of venison steak on a bun. I guess the meat was cooked somehow special? Crispy onion things topped it, and it was slathered with a juniper berry steak sauce.
The meat was peppery and tangy, probably the spices and sauce. There was a bit of gamey-ness to it, but it wasn't bad. The bun wasn't greasy like when some places brush it with oil or butter. It wasn't over-thick, either. Those little onion straws added a nice crunch to the texture, and a bit of carnival-onion-ring taste to everything.
The root beer that came with the meal was root beer. Nothing worth writing home to the nest about.
Overall? As Father would say, it earns a rating of "acceptable." I'd eat this again. Three out of five fangs. I guess it was a short-term deal, or something? So I can't go back and have it whenever I want.
. . .
I want this sandwich even more, now.