Why The McDonald's Filet-O-Fish Almost Didn't Make It To The Menu

The Filet-O-Fish has always felt like the black sheep of the McDonald's menu. It's the golden arches' sole (definitely not a pun) seafood offering — at least for most of the world. Unlike other outlier items like the McRib or the Snack Wrap, it's very much a permanent fixture, and as much a quintessential McDonald's sandwich as the Quarter Pounder or Big Mac. But despite its status today as an all-American icon — even President Donald Trump reportedly had two delivered to the Oval Office at a time — the story behind the Filet-O-Fish's introduction to McDonald's was far from smooth. In fact, it was very nearly stopped in its tracks before it even got a chance to be released.

Ray Kroc, the legendary businessman who bought McDonald's from its original owners — the McDonald brothers — and is generally credited with turning the small family business into a fast-food empire, originally hated the idea of serving fish in his restaurants. The idea was first raised in 1962 by Lou Groen, a Cincinnati-based businessman who was one of the original McDonald's franchisees, having opened his first location in 1959. In his memoir "Grinding It Out: The Making of McDonald's," Kroc recalled his emphatic response to Groen's request to start serving a fish sandwich: "We are not going to stink up our restaurants with any of your damned fish."

Lou Groen didn't just come up with the Filet-O-Fish out of nowhere. His McDonald's franchises were located around Cincinnati, Ohio, and in the 1960s — before McDonald's had become the titan it is today — the fast-food market was crowded and immensely competitive. If you're not familiar with the demographic makeup of Cincinnati in the early 1960s (don't worry, we'll forgive you), you should know that it was a real hotspot for Roman Catholics. That little fact would eventually lead to the Filet-O-Fish's birth.

You see, in 1961, Roman Catholics were still required to abstain from eating meat on Fridays, in accordance with traditional doctrine. In Cincinnati, that meant sales of beef burgers in Groen's McDonald's stores would drop dramatically for the day — and even worse, for nearly two whole months during Lent. Groen quickly noticed, though, that his competitors who sold fried fish sandwiches (which were acceptable for Catholic customers to eat) were trouncing him. He had to come up with a solution — famously telling Ray Kroc that he would either have to start selling fish sandwiches, or sell his stores. And so, the early Filet-O-Fish was born. 

However, Kroc still hated the idea and pushed back against it. According to a 2006 interview with Groen in the Business Courier, Kroc complained to Groen that he was "always coming up here [his office] with a bunch of crap!" and that he "[didn't] care if the Pope himself [came] to Cincinnati" — he wouldn't serve the Filet-O-Fish.

It was two other McDonald's executives of the time, Fred Turner and Nick Karos, who convinced Ray Kroc to relent and allow Lou Groen to work with a food technologist named Al Bernardin (most famous for inventing the Quarter Pounder burger) to develop the Filet-O-Fish. The very first versions of the sandwich used breaded halibut (though now McDonald's uses Alaskan pollock in its Filet-O-Fish) and didn't contain any cheese — that particular innovation came from a young employee of Groen's. Eventually, they were ready to go — but Kroc, not one for giving up, decided to put up one final roadblock before the Filet-O-Fish could go on sale.

Kroc demanded a contest: As a trial run, a limited number of stores would carry both the new Filet-O-Fish and a creation of Kroc's own — the Hula Burger. What's that, you ask? It was a sandwich consisting of a grilled pineapple round with a slice of melted American cheese on either side. The deal was simple. Whichever sandwich sold more in one Friday would be added to the permanent menu. Kroc was so confident in his creation, in fact, that he made a bet with Turner — whoever's favorite sandwich lost had to buy the other a brand-new suit. In the end, Groen sold 350 sandwiches, Kroc sold six, Turner got his suit, and the world got the Filet-O-Fish. A pretty good result, if you ask us.