The place it's housed in may be fancy, but the burger joint itself was anything but. Made to look like a crummy hole in the wall, the restaurant had a good feel to it. Whether or not the dingy atmosphere was synthetic or authentic in such a ritzy neighborhood is beside the point. We're here to discuss the burger and the burger only. Which, coincidentally, is what I got, seeing as how it is the only option on the menu.
I ordered the burger with cheese, pickles, onions, lettuce and ketchup. It came fast and it came greasy. It wasn't as big as I would have liked, but the meat seemed to go up rather than out, which can be a problem with a lackadaisical chef, but this burger flipper was master of his grill, as it came cooked to the right amount of medium. This burger, like the place, was not fancy. Not that it tried to be; this was the Vin Diesel of burgers, and I mean that in a good way. It was beefy, simple and went down fast & furious. This was the kind of burger that would wear flannel if burgers wore clothes. It was rugged and burly. But more than that, it's simple-ness was likely it's saving grace. It was nice to have a burger with supermarket fixings. The tasty beef was allowed to shine through. And shine it did; perfectly complemented with my root beer. The fries left something to be desired: another burger. Next time will I have enough gumption to be 2 fast 2 furious. Only time will tell. On to the Haiku.
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