An Open Letter to Smash Burger

I just made stuffed mushrooms while listening to Primus’ first alum. Let’s get weird.

I had Smash Burger yesterday. Never had it before. Probably won’t have it again. It’s not a bad place, in fact it’s pretty good, but it just isn’t good enough for me to go back (especially when there’s a Five Guys closer to my apartment).

For those of you lucky enough to not be “in the know” about Smash Burger, it’s a burger place. That’s all you need to know. I wanted to ┬átry something new and every person I know continuously recommended Smash Burger so I finally gave in to their demands and tried it (never give in to peer pressure kids). I arrived and quickly caught on to how things work, you pick a burger and order it, simple enough. Here’s a direct transcript from my visit:

“What can I get for you?” The waitress is young and very sweet, almost sickeningly so.

“I’ll have the barbecue bacon burger meal,” despite my stoic face I’m very excited.

“What kind of meat would you like?” This question confuses me more than I’d care to admit.

“Meat? Isn’t it all cow?” I say instead of saying “beef” like a normal fucking person.

“Well you can do beef if you want, but there’s also chicken, turkey, and black bean.” This makes me happy, I love a good turkey burger.

“I’ll have turkey instead.”

“Great! Would you like Smash Fries with your burger?”

“The fuck are those?” I ask without thinking about perhaps talking like a decent non-aggressive person.

“They’re our regular fries with oil and spices,”

“Sure why not?”

I pay and take a seat while I wait for my food. They have Diet Dr. Pepper on tap, I like this. Every place should be required to have DDP available.

When my food arrives I am immediately disappointed. The burger is so small I want to ask my waiter if this is the appetizer for my actual burger, and apparently “Smash Fries” is simply code for wet diarrhea fries. The burgers actually quite good, and at risk of sounding so terribly American, it is very small, and the fries are rubbish. It’s just a wet pile of hot oil on my tray.

Smash Burger, it’s not that you’re terrible, it’s just… There’s a lot of better places. I’d rather give my money to Five Guys.


I’m Cheap and Lazy

I hate potlucks. Anytime I hear an even is going to be a potluck I either eat before or after the event. Let me be clear, I love to cook, and over the years I have amassed a fairly solid repertoire of meals I can prepare at a moment’s notice, BUT I do NOT trust YOU. I have no idea what you’re going to put in whatever meal you brought with you, and I’m not adventurous enough to try your spouse’s famous chili.

So, I bring alcohol to every event. That’s my contribution; you’re welcome. I don’t care if you’re having a christening, or a dinner party, or a a child’s birthday, I bring alcohol. Someone always appreciates the alcohol, and if they don’t then I have something to entertain myself while I watch your horrible friends and family make awkward small talk with one another.

I’m going to let you in on some classified information, I don’t bring good alcohol. I have a collection of fancy liquor bottles, but they’re all empty, so I fill them with cheap bottom shelf swill. Example, I will bring my Grey Goose bottle and have it filled with Fleischmans. The amazing thing is no one has ever noticed or called me out on this.

Moral of the story, don’t invite to your BYOB Food events and if you do invite me, I’m going to get wrecked on cheap alcohol in a fancy bottle.