We ranked everything on the Chick-fil-A breakfast menu - and the best thing isn't even the chicken

The mini's bread... glistens. I'm instantly suspicious of anything that isn't deep fried yet still glistens like an oil slick in the midday sun.

The "chick-n-mini" consists of a normal Chick-fil-A nugget slipped into a "yeast roll" pocket that's glazed with a vague "honey spread". There's an odd flavor that I can't quite place — it tastes of slightly sweetened sourdough, but with chicken thrown in the mix.

On the whole, I'm not sure I like these much. There's more bread than nugget to each bite, and the gestalt of the chick-n-mini doesn't exactly throw off a breakfast vibe. They come in a three pack and a four pack, but frankly, two minis in, I'm done.

At first, it's the perfect composition of gooey American cheese and fluffy egg, with a classic Chick-fil-A chicken breast as the centerpiece.

But then the whole-grain bagel rather crudely interrupts the tail end of each bite — an unwelcome interjection of nutty whole wheat. Sure, fine if you like whole wheat, but if not... it's a bit much.

A normal bagel would do this sandwich more justice. I understand the health-conscious choice of whole wheat, but at what cost? It's decent enough for me to keep taking bites, but I'm not crazy about this one.

This sandwich avoids the usual greasy, bread-centric heaviness that comes with many breakfast items, despite loads of melty cheese.

I don't mind the grilled chicken — it's well seasoned, and the citrus marinade lends a brightness that helps cut through the cheese.

The egg white doesn’t add much. Sure, the idea is a low calorie, fat-free protein, but that shouldn't come at the expense of taste. Halfway through, the flavors begin to retreat in the face of egg white blandness.

It's fruit. Who doesn't like fruit? But ordering a fast-food fruit cup is a dangerous, dangerous game — one you likely won't win.

Amazingly, this is one gamble with favorable odds. Strawberries, apples — both red and green — mandarin oranges, and blueberries all come together, crisp and firm, in a surprising display of freshness.

The reason for the lower ranking is merely this: why are you ordering a fruit cup at Chick-fil-A? Sure, it makes a great side order, but... come on.

Any fast-food chain worth its weight in canola oil has a breakfast burrito these days.

The chicken chunks are crispy and a tad on the dry side — fine for tenders, but they feel incongruous within the soft and rich mix of eggs, cheese, and deliciously roasted veggies.

There isn't any one dominant flavor, however, making this a weaker option — this is where the spicy jalapeño salsa comes into play. It’s perfect for the chicken burrito, adding a tiny kick and sharpness to each bite.

Ah, the American biscuit: buttery, soft, with slightest hint of salt — this item is innocent, pure, and represents all that is good in this world.

However, it's unlikely to fill you up or stand for any real breakfast nourishment — I'm not sure how the pioneers did it. This biscuit is best as an add-on. I recommend slapping some grape jelly on there. Maybe raspberry, if you're feeling adventurous.

I won't mince words: this is very good.

The fruit looks and tastes fresh, not canned. There's an option of granola or cookie mix-in; the cashier recommended granola. I have to agree, as cookie crumbles would’ve been far too sweet.

The yogurt is delicious; I'm inclined to believe that it really is Greek yogurt. It's light, sweet, and has the signature tang that differentiates it from the gelatinous, over sweetened colloid passed off as yogurt at most fast-food joints. I'd rank this higher if it weren't such a cop-out.

If yogurt is just too healthy for your tastes, I have your answer: hash browns.

How could you not love these savory, greasy, bottle cap sized discs of deliciousness? They cool off fast, but retain their taste even at lukewarm temperatures. I only wish they were crispier.

The sausage burrito far outshines its chicken counterpart. The sausage is mild; the eggs taste rich and look real. The roasted onions and peppers are extremely satisfying and flavorful.

The Monterey jack and cheddar cheese are subtle but not absent — they recede into the background to give savory richness and complexity. The flour tortilla is there only as a vehicle, not a flavor, as it should be.

The accompanying jalapeno salsa has a slight bite, but nothing overwhelming; it melds nicely with flavors of burrito, does not overtake or outshine.

This is one of the simplest breakfast menu items ever. Chicken, meet biscuit.

The biscuit is cushy and salty, a delightful embrace for the classic buttermilk marinated chicken. Add a dollop of jelly and it's a beautiful thing. Sweet, savory, and salty, all in one golden handheld nugget.

Just a smidge on the dry side perhaps, but not outside the realm of reason.

There's something exquisite about a light biscuit enveloping egg, melty orange cheese, and some form of breakfast meat.

But of course, as with nearly any bacon-based breakfast sandwich, I long for more bacon. The biscuit, although buttery and delicious, overwhelms the rich flavors of the egg and cheese, and what bacon is there gets lost in the mix. Why has three small strips become the industry standard? Throw me a bone here — or at least a fourth strip.

Still, all gripes considered, this is a wildly delicious sandwich.

I might call it a thing divine, for nothing natural I ever saw so noble.

The biscuit, a sublime cloud of butter and bread; cheese, richly reclining atop a bed of airy egg; a well-seasoned, almost spicy sausage patty that is fatty and thick. This sandwich represents the Golden Ratio of biscuit breakfast sandwiches — a harmonious balance of each ingredient coming together to create something truly memorable.

In my previous comparison of fast-food biscuit breakfast sandwiches, this sandwich came tremendously close to winning — only this sandwich's lack of a real fried egg tipped the title in Wendy's favor.