A cursory overview of these onion rings' appearance leads me to believe these are frozen. The characteristic smoothness of a machine made onion ring, combined with a uniform coating and coloring, are all hallmark characteristics. While there are a handful of gnarled bits and pieces floating beyond the circular perimeter of the ring, there are few gaps, and all are cooked to a crisp golden brown.

The plate they were served on was an interesting colored ceramic plate, a rarity with onion rings, that seemed almost battered itself, with adequate room for the pile of onion rings, and for the plastic cup of ranch accompanying the dish. All told, these look to be fairly appetizing, though nothing special.

Aphorisms are a funny thing, particularly because they can be selectively applied at your discretion, much like laws in the obscenely overburdened penal code in the United States. However, I think one applies here - looks can be deceiving. While the onion rings looked fairly good, albeit artificial, the taste was a disgusting abomination.

I'll start with the onions, which were incredibly greasy and juicy, ordinarily a good sign for onion flavor if nothing else. Despite the absurd volume of grease, there was absolutely no taste in the onions beside a vague sweetness, hinting at little more than bitter disappointment. If anything, the onion tasted like a particularly wet paper towel that may have, at one point, been used to wipe up some greasy residue from some better onion rings.

The batter wasn't better, with little taste beyond an abundance of tasteless grease, serving as little more than a pathetic shell for the meagre bits of onion taste within. For the sake of these onion rings, I sincerely hope they were frozen, because if this represents a genuine house-made attempt, I must weep for humanity.

Oftentimes, tasteless onion rings will try to mask the complete lack of flavor with the accompanying dipping sauce. In this case, the ranch dressing was equally tasteless, with nothing but a half-hearted creamy sensation, far too little to even call flavor. All it served to do was moisten the already dripping onion rings, a disappointing finish to a bland dish.

The texture of these onion rings was sort of like eating a wet sock that somebody wadded up and fried in rancid oil. The onions, as previously mentioned, were profoundly wet, almost to the point of disintegrating into liquid. The batter was likewise soft, merging seamlessly with the sock-like onions, like some kind of soft brown exoskeleton.

The complete lack of slippage, despite the absurdly moist onions, spoke to the homogeneity of the ring's texture. Every bite was like chewing into a greasy sponge.

This plate of tasteless, bland, wet slop would be a rip-off at any price. However, for $10, I was genuinely outraged. There's ample quantity, but the quality is not remotely worth it. The onion rings were tasteless and untextured, clearly prepared with no thought, passion, or care.

For one of the very few times in my history of reviewing onion rings, I was completely unable to finish these onion rings, which sent me into something of an existential quandary. Why would anyone make this? Why would anyone EAT this?

Despite staying at Beaver's Pub for several hours, consuming copious amounts of vodka tonics while watching a bunch of dudes shuffle quickly through an abandoned Tokyo street during the Summer Olympics, I wasn't even tempted to touch the remaining four onion rings. Eating nothing was preferable to putting this in my mouth.