7 Store-Bought Frozen Sliders, Ranked Worst To Best

Miniature foods taste better. Don't argue with me on this. There's just something about small-scale bites that makes eating more fun and appealing, especially when it comes to sandwiches. And no, I'm not talking about dainty finger sandwiches (a bit too uppity and highbrow for my liking). I'm talking about their heartier, rowdier cousin: sliders.

Why settle for one large burger when you can have three little ones? White Castle's founders were way ahead of the curve when they introduced sliders back in the early 1900s. This scaled-down format leaves room for mixing and matching, so you can sample a wider variety without committing to a full-fledged meal. It makes you want to build your slider flight to get in on multiple flavors at once, and that's exactly what I did — not at a restaurant but from the comfort of home.

Brands like TGI Friday's, Tyson, and, of course, White Castle sell frozen slider recipes in stores. I rounded up seven different renditions, including burger, cheesesteak, and chicken sliders, to rank in a little taste test (emphasis on "little"). Considering most boxes only offered one cooking method (aka microwave zapping), that's what I went with across the board. Then I ranked primarily based on a balanced bun-to-filling ratio, tender and quality meat, and a bun that could survive a turn in the microwave without transforming into a chewy hockey puck. As it turns out, many of these criteria were harder to pull off than you may think.

Personally, I'd never met Gary's acquaintance before stumbling upon his name for this taste test — Gary of Gary's QuickSteak, that is. Apparently, he's been slinging frozen, pre-sliced meats since 1981 and happens to package up his cheesesteak specialty into a mini slider form.

As these pocket-sized sammies whizzed around in the microwave, the timer couldn't reach zero fast enough. The aroma of savory steak and green peppers was tantalizing, to say the least. So, you can imagine my disappointment when I pulled the plate from the zap box to find a product that is 80% bun and 20% fillings. This ratio is simply unacceptable, especially considering that the fillings are so darn tasty. Despite its beef jerky-like appearance, the beef is surprisingly tender, as though it had been marinated in beef stock and light seasonings. Diced green pepper and onions are few and far between, though flavorful. And a few shreds of white American cheese topped off the jumble. Now, if only it weren't all concealed beneath a crackly, chewy roll. The bun's one redeeming quality is a light buttery taste, though this didn't even begin to outweigh the rest.

I was also put off by the fact that Gary instructs you to heat the sliders in the microwave with the plastic wrapper still in place. But food and microwave safety aside, I still would have handed Gary the last-place participation trophy for his skewed bread-to-meat ratio alone.

White Castle not only paved the way for fast-food burgers but is also a pioneer of frozen sliders. The fast-food company's retail division has been going strong since 1987, and it continues to add to its frozen kingdom. The question this raises is: Why are these sliders so iconic and popular? I simply don't understand the hype.

The Castle's squared-off sliders provide slightly better proportions than Gary's, so you feel like you're eating a real sandwich instead of a roll with some leftover scraps. However, that's their only advantage. Each handheld block is dismally smooshed down and relies only on tiny grilled onion bits to do the heavy lifting in terms of flavor (and even those are hard to come by). The brand also doesn't bother to enliven its beef patties, leaving them bland with an almost sour taste.

Perhaps cooking the sliders from thawed instead of frozen ups their appeal. This is how the box suggests going about it to obtain that "fresh from the Castle taste." But the cooking method does not change the structure or quality. And really, the appeal of frozen food is its speed and convenience. When you have to remember to thaw them in the fridge a day in advance, then eat them within a 10-day window, these benefits are stripped away. Whether from frozen or thawed, these sliders just don't hit the mark for me.

Cheese makes everything better. It's amazing what just one slice of American cheese can do to a recipe. In the case of White Castle's sliders, it takes them from a measly four out of ten to at least a solid six. I could stomach them and even go back for a second. And I didn't even apply the thaw method here either!

The cheese hides the tiny sandwich's other imperfections. Tired, lackluster patty? No problem because it's blanketed in salty, creamy fromage. Flattened bun? You hardly notice it thanks to all the meltiness that hides underneath. Much of it comes down to a pleasing textural contrast. Soft and gooey cheese meets a squishy roll and chewy patty for a more cohesive experience. There was also a clear boost in onion volume on these particular sliders. I assume this has more to do with the inconsistencies of the production cycle than the recipe itself. Still, though, it was appreciated. Their presence was evident, adding a caramelized blend of sweet and savory to each bite.

Even the box calls the classic cheese sliders the "fan favorite," not to mention "the icon" and "the one we all love." Apparently, I'm not the only one who prefers the cheesy edition to the bare bones original. They had me beginning to understand the White Castle fanfare ... if only slightly.

Warning: nostalgia incoming. Tyson's chicken never ceases to remind me of the sandwich patties and bite-sized nuggets I used to devour in the school cafeteria (it's very possible that these reliable weekly offerings were, in fact, sourced from the multi-national meat processor). And sure enough, that same familiar flavor shows up in the brand's chicken breast sliders.

Tyson doesn't fuss with onions, cheese, or other toppings, keeping it simple with breaded chicken on an artisan bun. Even with this basic two-part makeup, the sammies are quite sizeable, towering over all three of the previous options. The thick patty could be mistaken for a fried fish filet with its crispy, battered appearance. Inside, though, the white meat is juicy and flavorful, making up for the fact that it's a molded patty rather than a whole chicken breast. For a microwaved bun, this one is surprisingly soft. The only issue is that it doesn't contain a whole lot of natural flavor and starts to taste dry after a while. Although maybe you could predict that based on its dusty top.

Condiments or other garnishes are required for these sliders. So, if you're a fan of doctoring up your frozen finds and viewing them more as a work in progress than a final product, these mini sandwiches are right up your alley. If you're looking for something more grab-and-go with no additional effort required, you may want to skip ahead to one of the upcoming contenders.

In true Great Value fashion, these sliders copy White Castle's frozen formula to a tee. It wouldn't be a Walmart dupe if they didn't. It takes a square beef patty, tops it with chopped onions and American cheese, and plops it all on a baked bun. And here's the kicker, the store brand does it better.

They look more appealing, don't they? They are cute and plump, mostly thanks to a fluffier bun that makes them stand taller. They're closer to the size of Chili's Big Mouth Bites (one of the chain's esteemed Triple Dipper apps) than White Castle's steamrolled sliders. The flame-broiled beef looks like a sausage patty and tastes like a juicy slice of meatloaf. Sprinkled with tender onions, it could have been tasty even without the cheese. But the melted slice of American proves once again to be the flavor hero, and the perfect finishing touch.

Now, on to a few minor critiques. First, despite their aesthetic appeal, the buns were a bit chewy. I like to call that the "microwave effect." Second, like Gary's sliders, these are also cooked with the plastic still on. This still gives me pause, though I chose to let it slide this time. Otherwise, these aren't a bad pick at all. They're undeniably more stout than either of White Castle's offerings and packed with more flavor than the Tyson original chicken sliders, which all but sabotaged themselves with that dryness.

In the same way that cheese elevates the White Castle burger sliders, the element of spice enriches the Tyson chicken sliders. Now, just imagine what could happen if you threw a slice of cheese into the mix as well. The spiced version uses the same artisan bun as the originals. However, you can tell right away that the chicken patties have been altered. 

They run smaller and flatter, and give away their addition of spice thanks to their deeper orange hue and frequent speckles of black pepper. They get their heat from a combination of dried hot sauce (red peppers, vinegar, salt, and dried garlic) and paprika. So, at first, you experience a subtle dial-up of smokiness contrasted with the juiciness of the chicken. Then, the heat starts to build. It spread across my tongue (I would say like wildfire, but that seems a bit dramatic) and definitely gave my senses a wee wake-up call. It made me want to reach for a bottle of ketchup or mayo, not due to a lack of flavor but to diminish some of the burn.

With a great natural taste, I had to promote these spicy sliders above even the well-balanced Great Value sammies. You may also be interested to know that after mistakenly buying Tyson's full-sized chicken sandwiches (both original and spicy), I can confirm that those, too, hold the same level of appeal, just in a larger format. The more you know.

When it comes to the TGI Fridays line of frozen appetizers, I could take or leave the potato skins. The mozzarella sticks and wings are decent, and the spinach and artichoke dip is pretty tasty. But the chain's sliders? They're so good that they outshine all the other frozen sliders at the grocery store. They really set the bar.

I would attribute most of these sliders' success to their use of quality Angus beef. It makes the patties tender and juicy, despite their small size, and they even taste as though some form of seasoning was involved beyond just basic salt and pepper. Caramelized onion slivers were shockingly abundant, working together with the sharp and melty cheddar cheese to boost the overall savor. Of course, the bun also played an important role. It's a simple yeast-based roll, but it has that sweeter taste and pillowy texture of a potato bun. It was the only bun that really impressed me out of the bunch, so I believe that deserves extra kudos.

I'll admit, I haven't popped into a real TGI Fridays restaurant in quite some time. It's getting increasingly harder to do so now that the chain has dwindled to just 85 locations. But I'm confident in saying that if I did visit it, I would happily accept these sliders as my starter. They're the real deal — a restaurant-quality app ready in just 45 microwave seconds.

I put my microwave to work with this taste test. For many of these frozen sliders, the microwave is your only cooking option. No other instructions are given on the box. So, I fired it up and gobbled up each slider almost as soon as it emerged from the door (we all know how fast microwaved foods can cool down and lose their appeal). After trying them all back to back for a fair comparison, it became clear which ones stood out.

The first test was basic: a solid amount of meat and fillings. This should be common sense, or rather, the bare minimum for this type of food. But brands like Gary's and White Castle didn't get that memo. From there, I turned to meat quality, asking myself questions like "Is it flavorful?" "Is it seasoned at all?" The bun was equally important. I didn't take well to anything that became too stiff, crackly, or chewy after cooking. I found that only the bun from TGI Fridays satisfied this criterion.

In most cases, the onions did not help a slider's case. But it became evident that cheese was an important factor, particularly for the burger sliders. I craved that balance of ingredients and extra dose of flavor. The exception was the cheese-less Tyson spicy sliders, but this one achieved plenty of natural flavor simply from the dried hot sauce in its breading.