Someone told me when I posted the Harden’s burger piece that it looked like a coronary waiting to happen. Well, look at this darn thing. Hank’s Hamburgers is a teeny-tiny little place that’s been a Tulsa institution since 1949. This burger features four quarter pound patties, adding up to a whopping one pound of meat. Onions are grilled into the meat and also placed on raw (most burger places seem to just do one or the other, but Hank’s does ‘em both). Lettuce, tomato, pickles, mustard, ketchup, all the usual stuff. And, if you specify with cheese, and you really must, there’s a slice for every patty. Two things about this burger. It’s a frigging mess; and please share it with someone. I’m serious. This hamburger is one of the most delicious things I’ve ever had in my life and I definitely call it an essential meal, but . . . seriously, a pound of meat? That’s enough to make even a non-vegetarian get sick to their stomach. When I went to eat it as part of this food project, I took a friend with me and the understanding was that we’d half it. Well, we halved it and then both ate about half of our respective halves. I’m no slouch when it comes to packing food away, but this thing is a monster of gargantuan proportions and I felt like I’d done more than enough eating by the time I was through a bit more than a quarter of the burger. In retrospect, a third friend would have been fine. As it was, me and my friend both got a delicious meal and about a third of the burger went home in a doggy bag. Three delicious meals for eight bucks? Not bad; not bad at all. In short, even if you’re a very serious eater with two hollow legs . . . don’t get a side of fries. Seriously. But this is amazing; the melted cheese pairs so perfectly with the juicy, flavorful meat and grilled onions are ALWAYS a plus. In short, this is an essential meal for any serious student of food; but bring a couple of other students with you. Highly recommended. 4 stars.
Je n'aime pas dans les vieux films américains quand les conducteurs ne regardent pas la route. Et de ratage en ratage, on s'habitue à ne jamais dépasser le stade du brouillon. La vie n'est que l'interminable répétition d'une représentation qui n'aura jamais lieu.