RESTAURANT REVIEW: Jack-in-the-Box, Webster/League City, TX

I try really hard not to give negative extreme reviews if there is anything positive I can say about the place–but here, I just can’t. I mean. I just. Can’t. Can’t. Can NOT. Nope.

You ever see their ads on TV with the guy talking about the munchies and stuff, and you know they’re sort of riffing on getting stoned? I know why now. You’d have to be stoned to eat their food and think it tastes good.

Scratch that: EVEN stoned, there’s no way this food could taste good.

The thing is, it’s not a total JitB issue–it’s THIS JitB. This particular one sucks. Sucks rocks, spits them back out, cooks them in the old, dirty grease in the fryers, rolls them in gunk, then serves them to you and calls it food, and then charges you for the displeasure.

If this were just  one visit that was bad, I’d not have done this review. But this is repeated visits, and much like I wondered why I stayed in bad relationships even after breaking up and getting back together, I have often wondered why I even bother going back to the JitB drive thru. I get the same indigestion from my ex and the fake meat tacos, but at least with the ex, I sometimes had good sex. I don’t think JitB is going to be forthcoming in that area.

Greasy food. Yeah, yeah yeah, I know all fried food is greasy, to an extent, but not fried in grease that probably hasn’t been changed since my grandmother had a need for spanx. Half the time we go there, they’re out of half the things on the menu, and the other half the time, they’re out of the other half. I don’t think the location truly ever serves milkshakes. I think that’s just put on the menu to tease unsuspecting milkshake craving people like me. It’s the universe’s way of telling me I don’t really NEED a milkshake, and I don’t need the universe to tell me that. My thighs tell me that just fine.

The other problem is, we rarely get the right order when we order. The good news is, frequently, the mishap is in our favor, in that we often get more food than what we ordered–albeit different food–but why should someone get excited about getting more food that you can’t eat because it’s so bad?

So one particular sadomasochistic evening, I was hungry, it was late, I was lazy-er than usual, and my son hadn’t cleaned the kitchen like he was supposed to, so punishing him was in order, so I sent him to JitB for a late night munchies box. I got one of the chicken sandwiches with all this gooey cheese. It sounded good. It looked great on the menu.

What I got was a couple of pieces of completely mushy bread  saturated with this processed imitation cheese crap. This concoction had absolutely no resemblance to cheese other than being faintly close to the same color. There MIGHT have been a chicken patty somewhere inside the goo. I don’t know. I didn’t look that far.

The smell of the tacos was enough to put me off. But when I took one out of the paper package it was in, it was dark and crispy and stuck together with wilted lettuce that looked like the entire thing, lettuce and all, had been fried in a deep fryer. Blech.

The soda–ah, you can’t go wrong there, right? Ha! First, the soda smelled dirty. I don’t know that’s possible, but it did. It just didn’t smell right. And I ordered Diet Dr. Pepper–a rare indulgence I only allow myself once in a while so I savor the moment when I do!–and what did they give me? Argh! Diet Coke! Blech! How could you, Jack in the Box! How could you?

Top all that off with them being out of the desserts we wanted–hey, churros rock, people!–and I’m left sadly disappointed and am once again breaking up with JitB.

I’m currently looking for a support group so my codependency doesn’t allow me to go back to JitB. Seriously, Waffle House is better than this! WAFFLE HOUSE! Think about THAT, JitB!

Wheelchair accessibility–don’t even bother. It’s not worth it.



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