Venison fans, if you were planning on making an Arby's run this weekend, you're out of luck. The fast-food chain's dabble into the deer-hunting demographic sold out in 15 minutes at the one Twin Cities outlet — in St. Louis Park — where it was available.
"The PR storm preceding it exceeded our expectations," said John Kelly, Arby's senior vice president of operations for the West region.
Kelly arrived at 9:30 a.m. for the restaurant's 10 o'clock opening. "And there were people lined up," he said. "The parking lot was full." I found a parking spot in a nearby lot at 10:05. One of the customers in line ahead of me was trying to buy four sandwiches. No can do: The limit was two.
By the time my order arrived a few minutes later, the polite man working the cash register was breaking the bad news to customers: No more venison. The restaurant's allotment of 70 sandwiches had sold out.
Would I order another? Probably not. Then again, venison isn't my thing. It was a generous portion of farm-raised meat, cooked to a juicy medium-rare.
I'd been expecting a shaved-meat sandwich, along the lines of Arby's roast beef sandwiches, but no. It was a chop. Venison is a notoriously lean meat, and I was expecting a fairly tough texture, but it wasn't, landing somewhere on the continuum between Salisbury steak and brisket. Not bad.
The predominant flavor — at least at first — was the peppery/sweet punch of Arby's Sauce. But underneath? The unmistakable gaminess of deer meat.
File this one under "V" for "Viral Food Novelty." Given its propensity for generating talkers, the Minnesota State Fair would be an ideal venue for this sandwich.