The McDonald’s Snack Wrap is just another pawn in the chicken wars

Earlier this month, satire site The Onion announced, “McDonald’s Brings Back Beloved Snack Rat.” The story about a fake wrap — based on McDonald’s actual revival of its long-lost Snack Wrap — had true verisimilitude. In both cases, there had been “countless posts” and, in the case of the wrap, many online petitions that asked for its return to menus nine long years after it was removed. While the sauces that accompanied the re-release of the Snack Wrap didn’t include a “specialty McViscera sauce,” the consumer demand for its return was real. Last week, just days after the “most requested” discontinued item of all time returned, Snack Wraps were selling so well that McDonald’s stores were literally running out of lettuce.

Of course, in real life as in satire, there was a bit more nuance to the saga of the Snack Wrap than a simple and triumphant “aw shucks” comeback story. Even as McDonald’s sought to depict the glorious restoration of the Snack Wrap as a concession to its rabid and unreasonable fans, it was really the latest salvo in a war involving increasingly entrenched consumer trends.

Indeed, the return of the Snack Wrap is part of the very same arms race that brought about the Great Chicken Sandwich Battles of 2019, when Restaurant Brands’ Popeyes and Chick-fil-A pitted their sandwiches against each other in a fight for honor and quarterly sales, while other major chains like Burger King, Wendy’s, KFC, and McDonald’s all scrambled to develop or revamp fried chicken sandwiches in order to compete and stay relevant.

In many ways, this is a war about chicken. Despite America’s reputation as a beef-loving, cattle-rustling, hamburger nation, the US is no Argentina and, over the past several decades, it’s become less so. After decades of steady growth, chicken finally out-pecked beef in 2010 as the most consumed animal protein in the United States, and it’s been poultry in motion ever since.

When it comes to per-capita consumption of proteins, the American movement away from beef since its 1970s heyday and toward chicken is even more dramatic. Americans now consume more than twice the amount of chicken than they did in 1970. These days, diners in the US are also eating significantly less beef. 

The reasons for this protein switcheroo are as cultural and social as they are economical. The cowbell death knell first sounded in part because US public health advocates had become increasingly vocal about the dangers of excessive red meat consumption. In a watershed moment in 1977, the Senate Nutrition Committee released a set of guidelines titled “Dietary Goals for the United States,” in which it controversially suggested that Americans eat less beef. (After some effective lobbying by beef industry groups, the committee, well, chickened out in 1978 and the language of its recommendations shifted from a call to “decrease consumption of meat and increase consumption of poultry and fish” to the much more opaque and grammatically confusing suggestion that consumers “decrease consumption of animal fat and choose meat, poultry and fish which will reduce saturated fat intake.”)

Still, the fear that beef might be set out to pasture by the American public had taken root. In 1979, Burger King introduced its very first chicken sandwich, while McDonald’s was finalizing the development of the Chicken McNugget. After some initial supply chain snafus, the McNugget in particular would become a national sensation in 1983. Later that decade, a national obesity scare would launch a grilled and rotisserie chicken phase so culturally potent that chains like Boston Market (originally Boston Chicken) emerged as legit health food while Kentucky Fried Chicken officially shortened its name to KFC in 1991 to lessen its association with fried food. 

The eventual dominance of chicken wasn’t a given, however; its growth is a story of science, marketing, and deeply troublesome animal welfare practices. These innovations dovetailed with the birth of the broiler industry, which allowed for chickens to be raised quickly and for cheep cheap: “Back in the 1930s it took 16 weeks and about 12 pounds of feed to produce a 3-pound broiler,” one poultry scientist put it back in 2005. “Now we do it in less than six weeks with less than 6 pounds of feed.” The impact of the broiler industry has been a henduring one. 

For restaurants and grocers, which live and die on thin margins, chicken has only become more of a centerpiece, as the price of beef has soundly outpaced the price of chicken in the US for over a decade.

Now, chicken is visible on every menu board and evident in the rapid ascendance of poultry-focused chains, from Bonchon and Dave’s Hot Chicken to Raising Cane’s and Wingstop. And with fast-food restaurants taking an absolute beating over their menu prices over the past several months, the revival of the Snack Wrap in all its efficiency, austerity, and portable glory has offered an opportunity to change the conversation. 

In the three months since McDonald’s first teased the return of the Snack Wrap, other major chains did not sit idly by, counting their eggs.

Before the wrap’s reboot earlier this month, McDonald’s was preemptively struck by Popeyes, which released its first-ever Chicken Wraps last month. (In a petty and dastardly gambit, Popeyes even offered free wraps during the first few days of the McDonald’s Snack Wrap launch just to capitalize on momentum.) Popeyes was joined by both Sonic and Taco Bell, which released fried chicken wraps in June. In Taco Bell’s case, the wraps were part of a larger fried chicken lineup that included chicken strips, tacos, and burritos. Earlier this year, the chain even briefly carried a taco made with a fried chicken shell. Meanwhile, not that really anyone cares, Burger King has had chicken wraps on its menu since 2023.

What separates this nascent chicken wrap boom from more recent dining patterns are the newer trends and preferences that have emerged since the pandemic.

In 2025, chicken still rules the roost, but its fixture in the humble wrap and its sheen of somehow being a healthier fast-food option speaks to a consumer culture that is currently obsessed with protein, wary of carbs, and constantly snacking instead of relying on full meals. And with a seemingly unshakable sense of financial anxiety swirling, the allure of a well-priced wrap reflects a consumer base that is nervous, nostalgic, but hasn’t devolved into Snack Rats... yet.

Adam Chandler is a journalist based in New York and the author of “Drive-Thru Dreams” and “99% Perspiration.”