You”d think with 47 grams of fat Enormous Omelet would taste better

Attention, food police: We’ve got another scofflaw.

The Enormous Omelet, Burger King’s new entry into the fast-food world’s ongoing Lardbucket Sweepstakes (unofficial title) arrived recently, checking in at a gut-wrenching 730 calories and 47 grams of fat.

This pales in comparison to the reigning king of wretched fast-food excess, Hardee’s Monster Thickburger, a 1,420 calorie, 107-fat-gram precursor to the double-wide hospital bed, but it’s considerably better (make that worse) than the Big Mac, a comparatively svelte 490 calorie, 25-fat-gram snack.

And the Enormous Omelet, it must be noted, is a breakfast sandwich. Proving that it’s never too early in the day to start poor eating habits.

“The Enormous Omelet sandwich is really a breakfast platter on the go,” says Burger King spokesman Joe Gerbino. “It’s no different than you’d find at any pancake restaurant, if you sat down to a plated breakfast. It’s a sandwich for those who want a hearty breakfast on the go.”

“And in our ‘Have it Your Way’ tradition, we have many options for those who want to make more nutritional choices,” Gerbino says. “We’ve also launched the Western Omelet Croissan’wich (which has less than half the calories and one-third the fat of the Enormous Omelet sandwich).”

Critics, however, were quick to condemn the Enormous Omelet; the day the product launched, I received an unsolicited e-mail from a nutritionist (actually, from her publicist) who couldn’t wait to weigh in on the sandwich’s dubious merits.

In terms of calorie count, the mighty EO doesn’t wear the crown in the Burger King universe. The Tendercrisp chicken sandwich scores 780 calories. The Whopper with cheese is 800 calories. The Double Whopper with cheese is an in-your-face and on-your-thighs 1,060 calories. And Burger King offers that for breakfast, too.

The price of the Enormous Omelet breakfast mega-treat is $2.99, or $3.99 as a Value Meal, which includes a small order of hash-brown nuggets (add 230 calories) and beverage (better make it black coffee). On a cost-per-calorie basis, that’s pretty inexpensive. In fact, that could be the Enormous Omelet’s unofficial slogan: “If you’re eating yourself into an early grave, why pay more?”

But the real question is: How does the sandwich taste? Does its flavor justify the caloric indulgence? In a word, no. The Enormous Omelet is no Monster Thickburger.

The Monster Thickburger is a pernicious foodstuff, no question, but it’s one great-tasting burger. The Enormous Omelet, on the other hand, doesn’t deliver on flavor.

The sandwich consists of a long seeded bun, inside which are two eggs, (actually processed eggy rectangles that are a little unnerving to behold), two slices of cheese, three slices of bacon back and a bun-sized length of sausage. I’m not fond of bacon and sausage sharing the same sandwich; the flavors don’t complement each other, and I suspect they’re together only to ratchet up the calorie level.

The whole sandwich has a limp, just-microwaved softness; it sags in your hand and its mouthfeel doesn’t even hint at the caloric damage. Worst of all, the sandwich is remarkably bland. Only the sausage has any character, and it’s not much.

But don’t take my word for it. I hauled a couple of Enormous Omelet sandwiches into the office, offered my colleagues a bite (if it’s free, reporters will eat it) and solicited their comments:

“Bacon and sausage clash … one or the other, please.”

“Could use refinement. Better bread, better sausage, more flavor.”

“Sausage overpowers everything else, but mmmm!”

“Bread is as tasteless as the egg.”

“Who dumped the salt on this baby?”

“Texture ruins the eggs and crust. But that could be good if you have false teeth.”

“Can I have a defibrillator with that?”

There are many ways to pursue an unhealthy lifestyle, but there should be a payoff in flavor for this sort of (hopefully, rare) indulgence. The Enormous Omelet doesn’t deliver.