By Kate Santich
The Orlando Sentinel
Surely every American old enough to place a Happy Meal order knows there's an obesity epidemic in this country.
Despite this — and despite piles of research on the evils of diets high in saturated fat and sodium and low in fiber — American fast-food chains continue to roll out bigger, fatter, more decadent fare.
Consider this summer's debut of Burger King's BK Stackers, which include a Quad Stacker option of four slabs of beef, four slices of cheese and up to eight slices of bacon — "smothered," as the company puts it, in a creamy sauce.
"This burger might better be called the quadruple-bypass special," said Jeff Novick, director of nutrition for the Pritikin Longevity Center in Florida. "Fast food like this is great if you're in a hurry — to die."
The behemoth sandwich — defibrillator sold separately — contains 1,000 calories and a whopping 68 grams of fat, including 30 grams of saturated fat. According to nutritionists, that's about half the calories and 1.5 times the saturated fat the average adult should consume in an entire day.
For its part, Burger King says it is simply giving the public what wants.
"We're satisfying the serious meat lovers by leaving off the produce and letting them decide exactly how much meat and cheese they can handle," said Denny Marie Post, the corporation's senior vice president.
And in case the children fail to notice the sandwich, Burger King also sells collectible figurines of the cartoonish characters featured in the BK Stackers' TV ads.
But Burger King isn't alone in fattening up its fare. In fact, there are worse burgers out there — notably the 1,420-calorie Monster Thickburger, which has 107 grams of fat, from Hardee's.
Nor is the nutritional affront limited to burgers. Subway's 12-inch Double Meat Classic Tuna Sub packs 1,580 calories and 110 grams of fat, the Denny's Extreme Grand Slam Breakfast has 1,270 calories and 77 grams of fat, and Blimpie's BLT has 1,180 calories and 64 grams of fat.
The Center for Science in the Public Interest — known for exposing the unhealthy content of everything from Mexican food to alfredo sauce — labels such excessive fare "food porn" and argues that a lot of diners may not realize just how fattening the food is.
"To those who say we don't need calorie counts on menu boards, I say, 'Have you met the Thickburger?'" says executive director Michael F. Jacobson. "A good rule of thumb is that if a burger needs a comma in its calorie count, it's virtually impossible to fit into a healthy diet."
But some marketing experts say calorie counts won't matter. A lot of customers just may not care.
Novick, for one, thinks it's part of a public backlash against the near-constant admonishment to eat more healthfully.
He traces the roots to the 2003 death of controversial diet guru Dr. Robert Atkins, who blamed carbohydrates — not fat — for the obesity epidemic.
Though officials said Atkins died of injuries he suffered in a fall on an icy New York sidewalk, there were conspiratorial whispers of cardiovascular disease.
Dieters didn't know what to believe anymore.
"It was like people just threw up their hands, frustrated," Novick says. "Pretty soon there was some restaurant bragging about serving deep-fried Twinkies."
He doesn't necessarily blame the restaurants — after all, sales figures show the more egregious the nutrition, the better the food sells.
When Hardee's added its 715-calorie Hand-Scooped Ice Cream Shake, for instance, its shake sales doubled. On the other hand, Wendy's fresh fruit bowl proved to be a flop.
"Let's face it — we come from environments where food was very scarce, and there are certain things we're instinctually attracted to for survival," Novick says. "Well, now they've figured out how to make food packed with those things that were rare in the environment and that we used to have to struggle to get — and we can get them without even getting out of our cars."
Distributed by McClatchy-Tribune Information Services.
