We tried the fried fish sandwiches from the biggest names in fast-food - and the winner is clear

This fishy fare is ranked worst to best, as follows:

The pale sesame-seed encrusted bun is soft and clammy — seafood pun unintended, but welcomed nonetheless. In a word, the gist of this sandwich is… gummy. The texture (or “mouth feel,” a food writing term that brings an instant grimace) is chewy and dense in both bun and fish. The fillet is comically large and tragically sodden. The tartar sauce is undetectable. If there were any flavor to begin with, I’m unsure I could identify it amidst the dense breading and denser bread.

It lacks any taste or joy. The chain should stick to its tried-and-true turf, because their surf is stagnant.

I’ve met an iteration of this sandwich once before, and calling the impression “not good” would be a gargantuan understatement. This fish sandwich seems to be an update on the distasteful predecessor, improving some qualms and doubling down on others. The bun still slides about on the cod fillet, slicked by a spill of tartar sauce the size to which even the Exxon Valdez would take offense. The lettuce swims about in it like oil-soaked kelp, doomed to spend eternity in condiment purgatory.

However, to give credit where credit is warranted, the fish itself is an improvement. It’s not crispy, it’s not great — but it’s identifiable as something that once swam.

Despite the optimistic name, the fillet is far from crispy. The tartar sauce is sweet, with but a whimper of relish or tang. Its sesame seed bun, squashed flat as a flounder, does no-one any favors. This fish is gray and sad, like the last lonely tuna at the fish market.

A tiny trio of pickles have retreated to the far side of the sandwich, clearly ashamed of their powerlessness in the face of such culinary chaos; the lettuce is a pale pulp amidst the morass of tartar. The King doth add tartar too much, methinks.

I’m at a loss as to what to say about the Filet-O-Fish. It’s not a bad sandwich; it’s not a good sandwich. It’s boring. It’s fishy and limp and boring. It’s the seafood embodiment of a community theater’s inept production of “Free Willy 2: The Musical”. The only glimmer of excitement is the tartar sauce, which is more tart relish than mayo.

One wonders why Captain Crook, the sandwich’s vintage "McDonaldland" nautical mascot and number one fan, so desperately craved Filet-O-Fishes despite what one assumes is a career-related familiarity with actual seafood. He probably should have spent his time and effort pursuing something more rewarding, like a Spanish treasure fleet, or a better makeup artist.

The slider concept, birthed by White Castle nearly 100 years ago, runs into an issue here: the bun ratio overpowers the tiny fish square. The fish itself — Alaskan pollock, classic fast-food fish fare — is crispier than anticipated. The little American cheese square, its vibrant yet flagging orange corners peeking out from beneath the pillowy bun, does more than one thinks. It stands out more than the other sandwiches’ cheese slices, adding a savory warmth — a rounding of flavor that is not expected from such a bland, sorry looking little sandwich. Tartar sauce is recommended, if only to make the downing of the bun-heavy slider easier.

The po’boy sandwich, that humble gem of New Orleans, is Popeyes version of a fishwich. Two fillets of battered fish are crammed into a crusty, fluffy baguette like those served steaming hot on Bourbon Street. The fish is decent for fast-food — it’s crispy and flaky, although the trade off for crispiness is more breading than fish. But with two fillets, there comes a delicate balance between fish and batter. There’s a proper, civilized amount of tartar sauce, which goes a long way in this field.

The flavors of the fish and breading are the focal point of the sandwich; however, perhaps unsurprisingly I end up comparing it to the chain’s fried chicken and I find it wanting in contrast. There's also a shrimp version that I've yet to try.

Here sits a compacted, dejected looking sandwich — but the old “don’t judge a book" adage applies here.

The fish, allegedly “North Pacific cod,” is outstandingly crispy. The battered crunch reminds me of an honest-to-goodness fish fry, and the flesh is white and flaky. The pickles are tart and crisp, evenly applied, and the tartar sauce's hint of dill adds a level of nuance that fast-food tartar sauce often so obviously lacks.

There’s no cheese, which makes sense to me personally; American cheese and fish shouldn’t mix. The normal bun is forgettable, as it should be. The focus here is on the fish. Sure, it’s not on the same level as an order of fish and chips from a roadside stand in Ipswich, MA, but for what one expects out of a fast-food chain, it’s shockingly… good.