9 Wendy's Dipping Sauces, Ranked Worst To Best

Nuggets without something to dip them in are like a peanut butter and jelly without the jelly or a grilled cheese without the cheese. It's just not right. Wendy's, of square-patty and sea-salt-fry fame, knows all about the holy nugget-and-sauce combo. Its dipping sauce options rotate frequently enough to keep loyal patrons on their toes, in anxious anticipation of the next new chicken nugget trend or bold french fry condiment that puts boring old ketchup on the chopping block.

Wendy's sauce lineup is comprehensive and weirdly artisanal. It has all the basics, with just enough superfluous dips to be considered a "sauce spot." Among its vast yet compact selection are flavors that make a name for themselves in the elusive world of fast food sauces, and a few others that find themselves at the bottom of the totem pole.

I rose to the occasion and sampled a variety of Wendy's sauces, dipping both Wendy's nuggets and french fries to establish a thorough idea of the full potential of each. After my taste test, I ranked each one from worst to best, to save you the disappointment. So let's get our fingers sticky, flex our dipping game, and find out which sauces are the illustrious heroes of Wendy's menu, and which are the forgettable NPCs.

Sweet and sour as a nugget sauce is one of those options that's absolutely not necessary for a complete dipping arsenal, but it's a unique, welcome addition to the lineup nonetheless. It's normally a staple of Chinese-American take-out and not paired with nuggets, but if sweet and sour breaded chicken can be a thing (a delicious thing at that), why not sweet and sour nuggets?

Normally, this type of sauce is a flavor powerhouse, with umami from soy sauce, a bright tang from vinegar, and a mouth-watering sweetness that carries the other flavors. But the Wendy's version was practically the exact opposite. Instead of a deep, luscious red color, this sauce looks more like orange marmalade with a few red specks that hint at a mystery flavor. All I sensed was a gelatinous texture accompanied by almost zero flavor. There was no bright sugariness or umami aftertaste; instead, I detected a light hint of tanginess and maybe a whisper of sweetness. However, all this did was accentuate the sauce's slimy consistency, making it all the more unappealing and, frankly, downright gross, landing it in the dead last position in this ranking.

The fast food rumor mill alleges that Wendy's was once home to a far superior sweet and sour sauce, many moons ago. Maybe if Wendy's fans raise enough of a stink, they'll bring it back. When the tried-and-true nugget sauce flavors get tired out, sweet and sour is an excellent choice, just not this one.

Ah, smoky, sweet BBQ. It's a quintessential nugget dip that has a necessary place on every restaurant menu, but if this Wendy's sauce is your only option for dipping, you're better off with a naked nugget. Right off the bat, I could tell that this BBQ sauce would be a disappointment. BBQ should have a dark color and a velvety-smooth consistency, but this one was copper brown with a bouncy, jelly-like texture that was much like the sweet and sour. After dipping a nugget, it settled on top of the chicken in a weird, gelatinous glob that made it emotionally painful to go in for that first nibble.

Wendy's BBQ sauce tastes like corn syrup with a drop of added liquid smoke. Normally, it should have a mix of sweetness, heat, and savory spices, giving it plenty of nuance and versatility, but this sauce relied solely on sugar for its flavor. Instead of the sharp bite of vinegar and heat in a quality barbeque sauce, its bite came from excessive sugar, so much that it was almost sour. As a nugget sauce, the sugar was the only flavor I detected, but as a french fry dip, a little bit more of the smokiness came through. This BBQ sauce is better left untouched, especially since (spoiler alert) there's a better BBQ sauce on this list.

Ranch is one of those condiments that everyone has a steadfast opinion on. Some like a ranch that's thin, with more tang than sweetness, while others want a thick, rich sauce that's sweet and herbaceous. I could see mixed opinions forming about Wendy's buttermilk ranch, but overall, I thought it was one of the weaker options in the world of fast food ranch. It was far less offensive than the aforementioned worst two sauces, but it's not winning any awards, either.

Wendy's buttermilk ranch was far from decadent, like buttermilk ranch should be. It had a bold tang complemented by a not-too-sweet base that made it passable as a dipping sauce for nuggets and fries, but its texture threw me off. It was thinner and waterier than the average buttermilk ranch, and it didn't coat my mouth and deliver zestiness the way a solid, respectable ranch ought to. It was also missing more herbs and spices, like the earthy notes of black pepper (a must-have in a good ranch, in my book) and garden-fresh dill. Wendy's buttermilk ranch tasted a little like what would happen if you were really craving ranch but didn't have any, so you attempted to recreate it using whatever you had lying around the kitchen — usable in a pinch, but not something to seek out.

I appreciate that Wendy's includes cheddar cheese sauce in its dipping sauce lineup. It's kind of a thing all its own, separate from the other sauces by being less intricate. It doesn't need to be anything besides cheese, because who doesn't love cheese? It's a perfectly viable dip for both nuggets and fries, although it's a little bland — a touch of heat could have gone a long way. It was more impressive on fries than on nuggets. The smooth, thick texture, cheesy flavor, and saltiness drown out the savoriness of chicken nuggets when you pile the sauce on, but too light of a dip makes the crunchy coating too moist, even though it imparts the ideal amount of cheesy flavor. A light coating of cheese sauce on fries, however, is the perfect savory accompaniment when you're not in the mood for sweet flavors, like those in ketchup or honey mustard.

However, there's a big "but" with the cheddar cheese sauce, which is why it didn't land higher up on this ranking. It's egregious at room temperature, which is how I received it. The same problem that plagued the first two sauces befell the room-temperature cheese dip: a gelatinous texture. It was goopy and even a little clumpy, making it nearly impossible to dip anything while tasting like salty, savory jam. After nuking it in the microwave for a few seconds, until just before it started to bubble, the sauce became much smoother, and the sharp flavors of the cheese were much more pronounced.

I love a good spicy ranch. Spice adds complexity to herby, tangy ranch, while keeping it versatile enough for chicken, burgers, pizza — you name it. Wendy's ghost pepper ranch is appealing for just this reason, and it's a solid dipping sauce if you're looking for something a little outside the ordinary, however, it failed to deliver in some key areas. 

For starters, ghost peppers are among the hottest types of chile peppers in the world, so I expected this sauce to carry some serious heat. There was some spice present, but not nearly enough for it to be able to boast the proud ghost pepper name. But I get it — too much heat would turn a lot of spice lovers away, so a mellow, spicy sauce is more appealing to a wider audience. Although "slightly spicy ranch" might be a more suitable name, I suppose there's no need to argue semantics.

I preferred the ghost pepper ranch over the buttermilk one, not just for its additional warming heat, but because it's a more complex, interesting, and overall enjoyable sauce. It had a more intense peppery flavor, balanced out by the right amount of tanginess. Like the buttermilk ranch, it was still a tad thin, making it hard to dump chicken nuggets and get a nice, sizable scoop.

Honey mustard is probably the most iconic of all chicken nugget dips, and Wendy's version of the classic does its due diligence as a worthy sauce for your nugs. It has a pale yellow color that makes it look far from artificial, unlike a lot of other honey mustards. It's speckled with a touch of seeds, giving it the appearance that it's going to be loaded with layers of flavor, rather than being one-dimensional. Its thick, creamy texture made it obvious that it was intended for dipping, not for use as a salad dressing. The sauce clung to both fries and nuggets, coating them with a hefty, yet smooth, layer of peppery, tangy goodness.

Since most of the other sauces were either a little too sweet or too bland, I expected something similar with Wendy's honey mustard, but I'm happy to report that this sauce had quite a kick. A zesty flavor — almost like horseradish — swept in to be the dominant flavor, drowning out the honey. In a regular mustard, this wouldn't matter, but I expect a honey mustard to be pretty honey-forward, obviously. Wendy's honey mustard tasted more like a standard yellow mustard, albeit a particularly good one. A touch of added sweetness would have balanced it out more, but this was still a worthwhile nugget sauce. On fries, however, the mustard was overbearing, so keep this one reserved for chicken.

It's bold, it's comforting, it's packed with flavor, it's everyone's favorite spicy chicken sauce: Buffalo. Wendy's creamy Buffalo seriously delivers on the "creamy" aspect. It isn't like the stuff right out of the bottle — it has a rich, buttery flavor that's palate-coating, carrying the spicy seasonings to the back of the mouth where it erupts in a fiery flavor explosion. Like any good Buffalo sauce, Wendy's version isn't overly spicy, which is why it can be poured all over a pile of chicken nuggets as part of Wendy's Saucy Nugs meal – but it still packs in enough flavor that a light dip is a spicy, buttery experience. It's too thin to hold up on a french fry, so keep it for your chicken nuggets, or even pour it all over a chicken sandwich or burger.

Texture and heat-wise, this Buffalo hits all the right notes, but it brings the sweetness a little too far. A worthwhile Buffalo sauce is always a little bit sweet; it's necessary to balance out butter and hot peppers and help fat and heat meld together. A touch of honey is the way to go in Buffalo sauce, but it tastes like Wendy's was heavy-handed with the corn syrup when it crafted its creamy Buffalo.

It's odd to see two instances of ghost pepper on a relatively limited menu of sauces, but as a superfan of anything violently spicy, I'm here for it. Unlike the ghost pepper ranch, the ghost pepper fry sauce brings the heat, so it isn't for the faint of heart. The spice sneaks up and starts as a warming sensation, carried across your entire mouth by a silky, decadent texture. Then it slowly builds into a fiery sensation that, oddly enough, keeps you coming back for more despite the pain (it's an enjoyable kind of pain).

But it isn't just heat that makes this sauce dippable, dunkable, and practically drinkable. Zesty peppers are complemented by just the right amount of sugar and smoke to create a complex dip that isn't too much of one flavor. My only minor qualm rests in its texture, which is oily and thin. The oily texture isn't extremely egregious, but it requires that you're mindful of how much you're dipping. The ghost pepper sauce is normally reserved for the Ghost Pepper Fries and spicy Saucy Nuggs meal, but I'd recommend ordering nuggets with a side for dipping so you can control the amount on each bite and prevent an overload of heat and oil.

I'll be honest — I usually stay far, far away from barbeque sauce that isn't spicy. Without heat to balance it out, I find the sugar and smokiness overbearing, but Wendy's really surprised me with its honey BBQ nugget sauce, enough to earn it the number one spot in this ranking. Unlike the plain BBQ, which was jelly-like, the honey BBQ was satiny smooth and luscious. Its dark, molasses-brown color indicated that it was rich and flavorful, and it didn't disappoint.

Wendy's honey BBQ sauce didn't glob up on the nuggets, but instead wrapped itself around them after each delicate dip, like it was giving each nugget a gentle but emotionally-charged hug. The same went for the fries, which didn't require scooping. It wasn't too heavy to break the fries when they were fully loaded, but it wasn't so light that it wouldn't stick to them.

This sauce was easily the most balanced of all the Wendy's sauces. The sweet honey stood front and center, and waves of bold, woody smokiness swooped in as an aftertaste. Each bite was accentuated by an intense vinegary tang that made it nuanced and complex without overpowering the other flavors. It's bold enough to stretch a tiny cup out across a large order of nuggets, but it's palatable to the point where pouring a ton of this sauce over a pile of fries is absolutely doable.

To rank these Wendy's sauces from worst to best, I tried each one as-is (except for the cheddar cheese sauce, which I tried as-is and after heating) by dunking a nugget and french fries. I ranked each of them based on their perceived quality and texture, casting aside any flavor biases and preferences. Quality and texture were the major factors in this ranking, but I also considered the ease of dunking and dipping. I factored in whether each sauce was best with fries, nuggets, or both, giving slight priority to those that tasted just as good on both of these dippable Wendy's items.

Overall, the best sauces were those that appeared to be the highest quality. They were the ones that had everything a dipping sauce should have: bold flavor, complexity, balance, but mellow enough that it's easy to keep coming back for more. The worst sauces were bland, boring, too thin or gelatinous, and couldn't stand up to the superior quality of the top picks.