One expects so very little from national chain restaurants. If the order is taken promptly, and delivered with a tolerable level of accuracy, this is widely considered a win. Only when these shallow standards are themselves breached, does an experience warrant such a review. I and my family approached the counter and briefly considered the menu. Some one was at the till to take the order, and acknowledged us, fulfilling roughly half of his required duty with aplomb. This is when things got weird.
I ordered first, requesting a bacon cheeseburger with lettuce, tomato, and grilled mushrooms. This was met at first with confusion, followed quickly by revulsion. The cashier gave me a look of disdain and disgust. His face told me he was reasonably certain, but not positive, that I had vomited slightly whilst placing my order. In a quiet, uncertain voice he asked "Are you sure that's all you want?". I smiled and answered in the affirmative, hoping that perhaps it was a joke and jokes were a concept relatively new to him. He was clearly taking those first steps trying out one of those unique facets of humanity we're all born with and take for granted. I'm not going to blame a guy for that.
My wife ordered an unadorned and thoroughly standard cheeseburger, thus avoiding a repeat of the horror show I had unwittingly put on for this unassuming register biscuit. She then made the mistake of requesting a water cup, as we rarely worship at the altar of bubbly sugar water. Suddenly our witless food clerk straightened, his face serious and bursting with authority. I'm paraphrasing here, but essentially he let us know under no circumstances could we put anything but water in the cups. This was off-putting to say the least, but we rarely visit food franchises of any type. Perhaps treating potential customers with suspicion is the cutting edge guerilla marketing tactic they're all trying now to entice millennials. I think Zaxby's pioneered the concept.
Food ordered and table secured, we settled in for a short wait. After a quick hand wash, I returned to find our order number had already been called. Finally a return to a modicum of the minimum effort service I'd come to expect. Returning to the counter, I found a complete lack of food. It had been put aside in the kitchen because I had taken too long to grab it. Five Guys is apparently rife with the criminal element, stealing bags of food when no one immediately claims it and swindling the company out of literal cents worth of concentrated soda syrup.
What can I say about the burger, this defining feature of their establishment. Tomato? Flavorless, mushy, commercial grade slices of sadness. Lettuce? A few whispy clippings of iceberg. The black sheep of the lettuce family. Bacon? A joyless smattering, thin and unfulfilling. Mushrooms? No, I would not deign to classify them as fungi. Bun? Smashed and pitiful, teeming with sesame seeds. The beef? Tasteless, though with a reasonably good texture. The cheese wasn't bad.
At night's end, I had paid more than $20 before tax for the privilege of two average burgers, fries and the unique feeling of being treated as a soda stealing malefactor. I sat and ate surrounded by awards, the walls festooned with accolades in bold red print, proclaiming that the burger savior was here at last. One of the few culinary constants that hold true in this life is that the more a restaurant focuses on a particular product, the higher quality it will be. Against all odds, Five Guys turns this notion on its head, and manages to churn out mediocrity all over their filthy, peanut covered floors. My 2.5 year old enjoyed throwing peanuts, so we'll probably be back. read more