The urge to eat a good cheeseburger struck me like a lightning bolt the other day -- funny how one's body sneakily finds a way to get back at you for too many days of granola and salads and yogurt.
I wound up at Five Guys Burger & Fries
on Mill Avenue, a newcomer to the local scene whose nationwide cult following started in Virginia, in the '80s. It's not hard to get the allure of this place -- it's not flashy like Mickey D's, and the old-fashioned menu is limited to burgers, hot dogs, grilled cheese sandwiches, and French fries. They were blasting '60s rock, and the employees in the open kitchen seemed to be in a really good mood.
So I went with a basic cheeseburger and regular fries, served up in a paper bag. I ate probably half of those potatoey, skin-on fries before opening up the foil-wrapped burger.
Surprise! The cheeseburger was a double, and it oozed juices and grilled onions when I bit into it. I liked it a little too much, because I learned it takes no more time to eat a double than a single. Bad girl. This thing disappeared in about two minutes.