McDonald's, Wendy's, and Burger King's signature bacon cheeseburgers - and the winner is indisputable

Let's start with Burger King's bacon slathered "Bacon King," a whopping and wide sandwich.

Two quarter-pound patties with neon yellow American cheese melted on each are topped with a "hearty portion" — BK's words — of bacon, under a classic sesame seed bun. The sandwich is massive; it's practically wide enough to successfully land a 747. And it's beefy (pun intended). The Bacon King requires two hands at all times, lest one makes a big bacon mess.

Yet for such a regal and mighty name, one expects a tad more grandeur and clout than the simple bacon double cheeseburger it is. Ketchup and mayo are in the mix — nothing special there. It feels like a clone of the Wendy's Baconator that was widened with a rolling pin. There is nothing offered here that convinces me that this is the bacon burger of choice — it does not innovate, it merely mimics.

The bacon itself is decent — a very smoky flavor. There are six strips in total, so the bacon taste isn't lost within the huge patties. However, it's not all that crispy, and while this may be a personal preference, I prefer crispy slices on a burger for some textural variation.

It's a very heavy sandwich, and not just in the hand. It's a challenge to finish, and it weighs you down. After the halfway point, each bite becomes something of a struggle — a Herculean task that pits willpower and pride against the limitations of one's stomach. And in the end, flesh wins.

Here it is: the original, riding the crest of the bacon-mania wave of the mid-2000s. The burly Baconator was introduced in 2007 as part of Wendy's turnaround plan. At the time, I recall thinking it was an abomination — until I tried one. Some nine years later, the Baconator still stands tall, dominating the Wendy's menu.

It appears humble in size in comparison to the BK Bacon King (each comes with its own zip code, I presume). Two of Wendy's iconic square quarter-pound patties, each lovingly blanketed in American cheese, three bacon strips per patty, mayo, and ketchup, all sit beneath Wendy's new bun. Admittedly, the bun is compacted rather easily, but it still holds up.

The condiment ratios are perfect. Like the Bacon King it just has ketchup and mayo, but there's just enough of each to add flavor without overwhelming anything else.

The bacon is crispy and tastes freshly cooked. According to Wendy's, it's applewood smoked, and I'm inclined to believe it from the well-rounded taste. Six strips is plentiful yet not overpowering, allowing the grilled beef to be enjoyed as well. The cheese is savory and rich, but thin.

Frankly, you really can tell that Wendy's stays true to its "fresh, never frozen" claim. It's incredibly evident in the Baconator, with nothing but beef and bacon to focus on. It's the perfect size, as well — psychologically, one expects a bulkier, more barbaric sandwich than what is delivered.

Finally, I decide to throw a McDonald's Double Quarter-Pounder with cheese and bacon into the mix for a test control. Curiously, McDonald's doesn't have a bacon-focused burger. In fact, as far as I can tell, the only item on the entire non-breakfast menu that puts forth bacon willingly is the Bacon Ranch chicken salad. In order to get bacon on any non-breakfast item, you can simply ask to add it, but it's never advertised as such.

Much like the previous burgers, the double quarter-pounder has — you guessed it — two quarter-pound patties. Two slices of American cheese, along with pickles, onions, ketchup, and mustard all squeeze into a sesame bun.

So how is McDonald's mysteriously hidden bacon? It's... fine. It's thin and sparsely applied — three lugubrious strips. There's a vague sweetness to each bite that the white onions and sugary bun add to.

Obviously, the emphasis of this burger isn’t on bacon. It's beefy — a double cheeseburger with bacon tacked on, making it unfair to judge it against others. But it raises a burning question: Where is McDonald's bacon burger?

Bombast and meaty hubris is Burger King's forte, so a bacon-heavy burger seems a tailor made item for the chain. Yet, Wendy's Baconator continues to assert itself as the reigning bacon breadwinner. It's the perfect balance of a double bacon cheeseburger. Everything comes together in glorious harmony; a greasy gestalt. It keeps me coming back for another bite — I am not overwhelmed or full, merely extremely satisfied, continually drawn back into its applewood-smoked clutches. The Baconator is simply unassailable.