Favorites Friday - Restaurant Reviews

Today's Prompt: What is your favorite fast food place? Write a review of the restaurant or your favorite meal as though it was a 5-star, gourmet restaurant.

Pope Jon wrote:

I must apologize before I begin, dear readers, by saying that the languages of man cannot sufficiently express what I felt after eating at Taco de Campana. While the word "eating" is an understatement, I fear every other word I can think of falls short as well. Feasting? Not good enough. Dining? No. Gormandize? Devour? Banquet? None of these comes close to what I experienced. For the remainder of my of my review, assume that the chosen words are completely beyond insufficient to accurately describe my journey.

First, I enter and immediately am overwhelmed with sights and sounds, pleasing to the senses. The establishment is crowded with patrons, unable to hide their own delight. Despite paying homage to hispanic cuisine, Taco de Campana attracts people of all backgrounds indiscriminately. This is what I learned immediately: there are none who can truly resist the temptation and delicacies that awaited me, and I intended to wait no longer. After deliberating for what seemed like ages, I finally ordered my food. (It feels insulting to call it "food," but I must reiterate that I cannot bring a just description without a divine dialect.)

Now, if the lovely atmosphere and deliberately appealing setting isn't enough to make one feel welcome, the saints responsible with the secrets of Taco de Campana's delicious menu will certainly do so. It seemed that the entire kitchen staff moved of one accord. They must've had artists creating the dishes, calligraphers writing orders delivered from musicians, and generals directing the chaotic masterpiece that it was. My meal was prepared in great haste, and yet the entire staff knew my name, and proclaimed it for the whole restaurant to hear. It was as if they were proud to have me there, and despite hearing countless others being summoned in a near identical fashion, I couldn't help but feel significant to those angels clad in slim, black uniforms.

While my meal was being prepared, I was able to select from a variety of exquisite beverages. Though some were standards for high society establishments that I frequent, Taco de Campana employs it's own secret drinks, exclusive to it's no doubt loyal customers. I had no other option but to try one. It was called Baha. I won't try to describe it, but as I consumed it, I pictured the tears of the gods flowing down my throat even as my own tears wet my cheeks in sheer ecstasy,

But the best was yet to come.

With my feast and my broth in hand, I sat comfortably, and wasted no time. Being a sophisticated man, I started my meal with my appetizer. I must say, my Burrito de Cinco Capa did more than appetize me. It gave me a lust for Taco de Campana that I both fear and pray will never be quenched. With cheese that will never belong to me; cream of a sour origin; rich, steamy beef; beans that have been fried multiple times; and an additional layer of cheese, this one finely shredded, the five layers each stepped up to the occasion, and assaulted my taste buds as one. My tongue scarcely survived the carnage of flavor that was unleashed upon it, and yet I knew I had to press on. I had two more courses to go.

For my entree, I choose a champion that had plenty of titles. Was it a Gordita? Sure. Was it fiery? You bet. Would one call it cheesy? Just like this joke, yes. El Gordita de Fuego de Crunch de Caso de Ultima de Fantastico de Terrorista. This monster was at my fingertips, and I was just crazy enough to say... bring it on. And it was brought. It was brought hard, and with a vengeance. I didn't know it at the time, but El Gordita de Fuego de Crunch de Caso de Ultima de Fantastico de Terrorista penetrated my soul. I don't know when: it could've been after I finished consumption of the titan, but I believe I was infested long before I even laid eyes on it. El Gordita de Fuego de Crunch de Caso de Ultima de Fantastico de Terrorista knew that I would come to challenge it long before I did, and El Gordita de Fuego de Crunch de Caso de Ultima de Fantastico de Terrorista had no understanding of honor or chivalry.

Utterly defeated, I could not remember the name of my dessert. I knew that it was pure, sweet, and powerful, but I new little else. It was golden and seemed frail, but that didn't matter to me. What mattered was that when I bite into the sweet, crispy exterior, I found peace. I no longer cared about being picked on as a child. Being dumped as a teenager, or overworked as an adult. Every disappointment, every embarrassment, every regret melted away instantly. The only thing in my mind was the name of my savior. La Empanada Manzana de Caramelo. I don't remember much after that first bite, but what I do remember is flashing lights, shouts, and lots of movement. When I came to, I was in a hospital. Apparently I had overloaded on the paradise that is Taco de Campana. I had been in a coma for three weeks in Taco de Campana's Flavor Overindulgence Center. Over the next month, I was given weaker and weaker grades of Baha via an IV until I was able to drink regular liquids again.

I'm writing this review from my hospital room. I will end this journey with a simple bit of advice: don't overindulge. Don't miss my meaning, though; indulgence is more than encouraged. It's demanded, as a matter of fact. If you consider yourself to be alive and have not tried Taco de Campana, reconsider your life immediately.

This will be my last review, as all other forms of nutrition have been soiled for me. I don't know if I am Taco de Campana's prisoner, slave, friend, or lover, but quite frankly, I don't care which it is. My heart, body, mind, and everything within me is Taco de Campana's now. I have no regrets, except not going sooner. Don't make the mistake I did: don't wait another second without rushing to Taco de Camana and pledging fealty.

Melody Joy wrote:

I recently had the pleasure of visiting the fine establishment of McDonald’s. The aromas from the fried foods greeted me as I stepped through the door which was opened for me by a husky gentlemen who was there with his two equally-husky children. It was an especially busy Saturday afternoon, so I had to wait in line for several minutes while the staff assisted the patrons in line in front of me.

Today, I chose two items from the menu which complemented each other well if you were educated enough to understand their symbiotic relationship. I ordered the McDouble and the McChicken from the menu and declined an order of fries as I am trying to watch my weight. I received my order after a brief 10-minute wait. I truly appreciate the time and effort the staff members clearly put into preparing my food for me.

I found the only table that had recently been cleared by the staff and sat down to enjoy my meal. First, I had to add the final touches to my meal. The McChicken had thick white lettuce and a simple white mayonnaise along with a deep-fried chicken-like patty delicately placed between a white flour hamburger bun. The McDouble featured two beef patties grilled to perfection in their own grease and topped with a slightly-melted piece of yellow American cheese, tangy yellow mustard, sweet ketchup, tart pickles, and diced onions. Pulling the McDouble apart, I placed the McChicken between the two meat patties that were dripping in grease and pressed the two sandwiches down until they were a manageable height.

Taking a bite of the McAwesome, my mouth filled with a conglomeration of tastes that combined into a pleasing fusion that is sure to satisfy the palette of any frequent McDonald’s patrons who are looking for something off-menu to enjoy whose level of deliciousness is exponentially more amazing than the total sum of its parts.

Chuck C. wrote:

The Waffle House

The brown and yellow decor was quite daring, an old school diner with a dash of gas station bathroom. The blindingly white florescent light created an ambiance fit only for a lovely evening out. We sat ourselves, as the sign in front of the door implored us. The pleather-covered seats were slightly sticky and the brown table had a red smudge near its edge of ambiguous origin. The obviously run-down waitress placed the plastic clad menus in front of us and walked away, not a word spoken. Good, I value my privacy. The images of perfect waffles, omelets, and breakfast meats blazed across the menu offered me and my lovely date great anticipation for the delight that was to come.

A good 10 minutes later the waitress returned. Through gnawing on a piece of gum she demanded our order. Right the chase, just how I like my service. I ordered two waffles and a mess hash browns. My date ordered the corn beef hash omelet. The cook was not 10 feet away from our table, hacking away at our food. The utter laze through which he was preparing our food told me he really knew what he was doing, and did not require using much energy to practice his craft.

Minutes later the waitress slide the delicacies in front of us, along with the slip indicating how much it would set me back. Again, the direct approach is refreshing. I and my date smiled at each other and dug in to our down home gourmet smorgasbord. My waffle was perfectly cooked: crispy brown on the outside and sublime interior. A heavy drench of imitation boysenberry syrup perfectly complimented the well crafted shingle of goodness. The hash browns were also perfection on a plate: perfectly shredded potatoes, browned to perfection, tossed with a healthy heap of canned mushrooms, onions, and well-cooked bacon. The symphony of flavors and textures offered a compelling view into the life of a traveling truck driver. According to my date the corn beef hash omelet was equally heavenly. Our trip to waffle house? Amazing. The combination of the homey décor, discreet service, and the faint air of cigarette smoke earns this restaurant a respectable 4 out of 5 stars.

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