You could say the same of some highly nutritious and thoroughly traditional foods, however:
I suppose the difference is that the MacDonald's trash is supposed to be fresh not preserved food.There was, for instance, Colonel Edward Norris Wentworth, Director of Armour's Livestock Bureau. He knew of an unsealed container of rendered mutton fat which had remained on a shelf in a Florida home for more than twenty years without going rancid.
Colonel Wentworth thought beef fat might do almost or quite as well; so he kept open in his office several cans of beef pemmican which his company made in 1942. He meant to keep them there indefinitely, but wrote me in 1944 that inadvertently he got them emptied, through his own nib- bling at the contents, and that of his friends. However, the last open can did not become empty for more than a year— of Chicago summer heat and ordinary winter office temperature. The final chunk he nibbled at showed no sign of rancidity.
I recall once reading a Bill Bryson book in which he said of MacDonald's that the company succeeded because the "food was great". Frankly, when I think of a tired hamburger "steak" in a tasteless refined-flour bun with a limp lettuce leaf, some processed cheese, and a dollop of gloopy bottled thousand island dressing, "greatness" is not the concept that springs to mind. It's not even good food.
Come to think of it, I don't think greatness could sensibly be applied to any food, even one that farmers and chefs had spent time and trouble, care and knowledge on. At the end of the day, food is just food, and greatness is more appropriate for describing, say, some act of supreme sacrifice, some stupendous work of art, or the like.
And yet Bryson isn't on the whole a bad writer, and certainly not a stupid man. What was he thinking of?