In-N-Out Burger, Pinole, California

I got sick of the long lines at the Frisco’s In-N-Out Burger location. It has become the only fast food place where I lose weight because of the time I spent queuing. I decided it would be quicker to fly to California, the ancestral home of In-N-Out, and eat at one in the land where residents consider it another fast food chain, not a place to worship an animal-style burger like a bunch of dazed zombies.

This is my new branch of In-N-Out. It is at the Pinole exit of I-80 (ICBM coordinates: 37.9894758, -122.3098301). For my In-N-Out induction I ordered a “double-double  animal-style” ($3.25) along with fries animal style ($3.30) and a chocolate shake ($1.99). Let’s go through each:

First, the shake.  Just like a McDonald’s shake. Clearly, INO does not see the shake as a menu game changer and just provides a smaller (and cheaper) version of the competition’s that is “good ‘enuf”. Grade: Average.

Next, the fries. Same as McDonald’s. Shoe string dimensions and flaccid. When will restaurants learn that there is only one way to cook fries, and that is three times? No taste on their own. Animal style is what makes them different. The onions borrow the synergy with potatoes of a pommes lyonnaise and the sauce on animal style creates a messiness that makes sure that bestiality has never tasted so good. Grade: On their own. Average. Animal style: Inspired.

Double-Double Animal Style. Kevin Marple may have spent a week in a cheap motel where he was the only guest without a criminal record to get great pictures. I only had a minute to get this one.

Finally, the meat of the matter, the burger. The bun is a POB (plain old bun) improved by the toasting. The meat has more flavor and umami than the grey pucks that dominate too many chain burgers. The ‘everything’ on it is the usual salad ingredients (lettuce, onions, tomato). The cheese is the same god-awful yellow pus you get at every other fast food chain. INO packages the burger in a snug-fitting paper bag from which the bun and meat pop out as if to say “eat me.” In the case of the double-double, the arrangement has a Georgia O’Keefe level of suggestiveness – which must be why the State of California requires they put a calorie count on the menu. Animal style defies INO’s neat packaging and makes the whole thing a mess, and a delicious one at that. Grade: Above average. Animal Style: Above Above Average.

The service was unbelievably friendly and gushy. When I arrived (no line at the counter) the teenage girls serving seemed genuinely pleased to see me. As I waited for my order they reassured me it was coming and a passing manager said: “good morning sir.”

Going back to the historic 2010 Dallas Burger Tour allows me to put INO in a Dallas context. None of the participating restaurants in that tour need have any worries of INO stealing their market. They are in a different league (especially Restaurant Ava and The Grape). Fast food chains, on the other hand, had better watch out. INO may prove to be a strong competitor.

Iron Pot Chicken Curry at Malai Thai-Vietnamese Restaurant. Photography by Kevin Marple.

Check out the recent write-up of Malai Thai-Vietnamese Restaurant in our Best New Restaurants 2011 story. I could eat this green curry chicken everyday.

New Herrera's on Maple. (photo by Kevin Marple)

In 1971, I spent most of my Sunday mornings in a line around the original Herrera’s on Maple Avenue. My friends and I would sit under a dripping window AC unit for hours, waiting for our turn at one of the nine tables inside the tiny, lard-based Tex-Mex restaurant. Once seated, you popped open the six-pack of Coors you brought with you and watched founder Amelia Herrera hand-pat flour tortillas by the front door. The food was such a religious experience for me that, 17 years later, I got married at Herrera’s, which by then had moved into a bigger building across the street and expanded into more locations all over Dallas. Recently, they moved into a newer building down Maple.

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(photo by Kevin Marple, styling by Angela Yeung)

If you’ve traveled through Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam then you are familiar with this popular dish. Although pho hasn’t quite made it to the mainstream breakfast menus in Dallas, it’s the common way to start your day in many countries. Recently Sarah Reiss ate pho for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and several bowls in between and files this story on pho.

Though pho (pronounced fuh) is far from new to North Texas, the recent surge of openings has reintroduced the signature soup of Vietnam to the mainstream. For newbies, let us explain the allure. It’s a savory broth (generally beef, chicken, or pork) seasoned with coriander, basil, star anise, and green onion; ladled over flat rice noodles and paper-thin tenderloin, brisket, chicken, or pork; and garnished with fresh bean sprouts, herbs, lime quarters, and varying quantities of hot chili paste. It might not sound much different than any other soup, but it tastes like magic.

Here is a a pho primer and a list of our favorite places. Tell us yours.

The best sapper ceviche; the best smile in Dallas. Both by chef Abraham Salum. Photography by Kevin Marple.

Dallas, it’s time to wake up and taste the mole. For too many years, you’ve treated any dish served with a mole as if it were an infectious disease. Perhaps poor misunderstood mole needs a Facebook page to get you to like it. Once you’re friends, you can dig deeper into its profile and get familiar with not just mole’s complex personality but some of Mexico’s other spirited ingredients.

You will learn the word “mole” is simply a Spanish term for sauce. Almost every city, town, or street vendor on the plaza of a village has its own variety of mole rooted in the local culture. There are red, yellow, green, rusty brown, and black moles, each a unique concoction started with rehydrated chiles (traditionally a combination of pasilla, ancho, and cascabel) that are thickened with ground nuts, seeds, corn, or bread and seasoned with dozens of herbs. Some moles are based on sweet-and-tangy tomatoes or poblano peppers; others are invigorated by raisins or plums. The dark, dense, and intense mole negro from Oaxaca leaves a mysterious hint of unsweetened chocolate on the palate.

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Pan-crisped halibut by chef Chris Ward at The Mercury.

Pan-crisped halibut by chef Chris Ward at The Mercury.

Porterhouse steak at Al Biernat's.