It is a wonderful thing when a person gets to re-visit their childhood through the palette. Just such an occasion presented itself to me and my somber yet enthusiastic partner in all things culinary last weekend. He decided that we would go to the Fidalgo Drive In for our second tasting, as the building used to house an A&W drive in and we both had nice memories of going to such places in our youth.
The drive-in itself was pretty cool. Drive up menus outside under an awning just like the olden days. We elected to go inside, however, in order to get the real flavor of the place. Get it? Flavor? I love food humor.
Anyway, the place was very old school with wood paneling, beat up old comfy booths, and old fashioned ketchup and mustard squeeze bottles on every table. In order to get fries, they had to be ordered as a side. My deluxe cheese burger came with lettuce, tomato, pickle, and mayo. Lots of mayo. Kurt, the lucky bastard, ordered a turkey burger, which actually tasted fantastic and was seasoned perfectly. Unfortunately the fries were crinkle-cut. Neither one of us cotton much to crinkle-cut fries.
As for the burger, did I mention it had tons of mayo on it? Well, it did. In fact, after Kurt bit into it, his beard and cheeks were splattered with thick mayo as he chewed. It kinda grossed me out, actually. But the burger was a perfect representation of a drive-in-style burger in every way; a mound of crispy iceburg lettuce, wonderfully traditional sliced pickles, and the bun was exactly what you would expect at a drive-in.
The teenagers working behind the counter didn't know where the meat came from, but when the one we asked came back from a fact finding mission, she let us know that her manager said it came from Oregon. Kurt assumed it was Oregon Country Beef. I was skeptical.
In essence, this burger is representative of a place and time, and was perfect given the context of its surroundings.
To quote my eloquent but minimalist partner in culinary adventure:
"It's a good burger, dawg."
The drive-in itself was pretty cool. Drive up menus outside under an awning just like the olden days. We elected to go inside, however, in order to get the real flavor of the place. Get it? Flavor? I love food humor.
Anyway, the place was very old school with wood paneling, beat up old comfy booths, and old fashioned ketchup and mustard squeeze bottles on every table. In order to get fries, they had to be ordered as a side. My deluxe cheese burger came with lettuce, tomato, pickle, and mayo. Lots of mayo. Kurt, the lucky bastard, ordered a turkey burger, which actually tasted fantastic and was seasoned perfectly. Unfortunately the fries were crinkle-cut. Neither one of us cotton much to crinkle-cut fries.
As for the burger, did I mention it had tons of mayo on it? Well, it did. In fact, after Kurt bit into it, his beard and cheeks were splattered with thick mayo as he chewed. It kinda grossed me out, actually. But the burger was a perfect representation of a drive-in-style burger in every way; a mound of crispy iceburg lettuce, wonderfully traditional sliced pickles, and the bun was exactly what you would expect at a drive-in.
The teenagers working behind the counter didn't know where the meat came from, but when the one we asked came back from a fact finding mission, she let us know that her manager said it came from Oregon. Kurt assumed it was Oregon Country Beef. I was skeptical.
In essence, this burger is representative of a place and time, and was perfect given the context of its surroundings.
To quote my eloquent but minimalist partner in culinary adventure:
"It's a good burger, dawg."
- Critic's Scores: Kurt: Sara:
- Flavor of patty: 6 7
- Juiciness: 4 4
- Source of meat: 6 8
- Vegetables: 9 8
- Bun: 7 6
- Synergy: 7.5 8
- Price/value: 6.5 7
Go ahead and share this. Really. People need to know more about cheeseburgers.
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