Are you a transgendered Wiccan in a stable polyamorous relationship? Got a craving for a juicy, crispy, perfectly seasoned chicken sandwich, but would sooner camp out for Donny Osmond tickets than darken the door of a Chick-fil-a?
Well, sir or madam, today’s your lucky day. Have a look here.
11 Comments
The owners of In-N-Out Burger are right wing Bible thumpers? Wow, I never knew that. Their sticker is on my car right next to Obama/Biden. I would remove it, except it covers a ding on my bumper. Also, their logo – two palm trees – is pretty cool.
Not that this would stop my from going there. My liberalism ceases when it comes to their magnificent Double Double. It puts the greasy hockey pucks from McDonald’s and Wendy’s to shame.
Best keep yore eyes peeled Malcolm. Mine’s peeled your’n way.
Maybe I should try the much-touted burgers at Five Guys now that they are in the Bay Area. (Local San Francisco joke: “Have you had Five Guys yet?”. “You mean all at once?”)
The article is right on target about the staff at In-N-Out Burger. They are so fucking cheerful all the time that you want to slap them.
That’s not just In-And-Out Burger, it’s all of California (except maybe Victor Davis Hanson, of course).
I’ve actually found, over the years, that slapping them works pretty well.
Maybe so, but In-N-Out Burger takes it to a whole new level. It’s like you’re in a Twilight Zone episode where everyone is a zombie alien Stepford teenager. They should all visit Sammy’s Roumanian or Katz’s Deli on the Lower East Side, to experience an entirely different level of service.
And you’re right about Victor Davis Hanson. He’s definitely a farbissina.
I’ve been to Katz’s; I’ve been to In-N-Out. They are, indeed, worlds apart in style of service, as well as in style of food. But both are outstanding eating experiences, IMHO.
What Katz’s “NYC gruff” lacks in “Cali cheerfulness” they more than make up in no-nonsense speed of service (it’s reminiscent of a commodities pit).
I’ll take NY gruff over CA lobotomized any day.
I remember going to an oceanside restaurant in San Diego County with my dad a few years back. My father asked the Eloi waitress for a Scotch and water. “Awesome,” she said.
A few minutes later she was back to explain that nobody on the staff knew how to make such a drink, and would my father please explain.
I am not making this up.
Scotch and water? Easy. Just mix two parts hydrogen to one part oxygen and light it to get your water, then . . .
Jeffery Hodges
* * *
“Gnarly”, he said.
“I see ‘Johnny Walker’ here, do you have any single-malts?”
“Yessir, which do you want?”
“Glenfiddich. Neat.”
The drink came with a straw. It was neither Glenfiddich nor even a single-malt.
Nor was it neat.