It's impossible to avoid the sacks upon sacks upon sacks upon sacks of potatoes in Five Guys Burgers and Fries. They form a bulwark near the front counter, funneling diners neatly down the order line from cash register to pick-up counter.
Yeah, this great wall of spuds is a gimmick, but it's a damn fine one that sets the tone for what Five Guys is all about. Burgers. Fries. That's about it. I've always thought that there is something to be said for simplicity and even more to be said for specialization. If so, Five Guys speaks volumes.
Burgers come in two sizes: large or small, two patties or one. Get two, because they're fairly petite, hand-formed into a uniform shape a bit thicker than your average Whopper. I hesitate to even bring up any of the standard fast-food chains, because Five Guys burgers easily transcend any of those tired diabetes factories.
No, this is more like a stripped-down diner operation, fresh burgers hitting the hot griddle the instant the cashier yells out the order, which occurs a nanosecond after you verbalize your meaty desires. Everything is cooked well-done, normally a heinous offense that would normally instigate a critic smack-down, but with patties this thin and beef so obviously packed with moisture and fat, I'm giving them a pass.
That fat gives the pocked surface of the patties a fair amount of crispy fried texture glistening with glorious grease. Buns don't overreach; they are simple sesame-seed models, with that Wonder-Bready gooey freshness that can barely hold in the power of these patties. Get giddy with the topping selection (it's easy to do) and the structural integrity of the burger will be compromised before you're half done. That's part of the charm.
Toppings match the Five Guys burger style. Cheese? Squares of sliced American that melt almost instantly when slapped onto patties just before hitting the bun. Onions? Fried a greasy golden brown and small enough so that they slip around between layers but somehow never manage to squirt out the back during a big bite. Mushrooms? Simply sautéed and a bit limp, but the jalapenos are bright green and pack a significant peppery punch. And, in keeping with Five Guys' no-fuss style, all the toppings are free.
Better yet, the usual suspects — lettuce, tomato and pickles — are crisp, ripe-ish and tart, in that order. When you unwrap the final package, you get a heaping handful of classic burger satisfaction. Only one thing could improve this meal. What could it be?
Oh yeah, fries, hand-cut from Idaho potatoes (the state of origin is labeled on a big board in the dining room every day) and fried to order. A cascade of baskets hang from hooks above patient stainless-steel cauldrons, waiting for just the right person. During the dinner rush, there is a constant chorus of bubbling oil and escaping steam as those baskets are plunged repeatedly into the fryers.
Honestly, the final product can be a teeny bit limp, but that's easy to forgive when you see the sections of real skin on each slender fry and taste the unadulterated salty potato, preferably stained red from a dredge through Heinz's best.
Alright, there are a few other things on the menu, perhaps to satisfy barbarians unwilling to settle on just two of nature's perfect foods. Or, more likely, to give picky kids a variety: plump kosher hot dogs and grilled cheese. That's it. Nothing else.
Does Five guys have the best burgers ever? No. But when it comes to the overpopulated market of chain fast food and diner fare, Five Guys has a formula that busts the big boys. But maybe not a Big Boy burger. Are those even around anymore?
In any case, Five Guys is growing so fast (another Tampa and a Pinellas location are opening soon) it may soon be as ubiquitous as some of the old-guard chains. I wouldn't mind that one bit.
EAT MY FLORIDA
Dispatches from Creative Loafing's new food and restaurant blog:
White Castles In Channelside
Speaking of burgers, it's time to prepare your stomach for a hot stack of steam-grilled "slyders." White Castles are comin', baby! Pirate's Cove — "a 1930s pirate pin-up themed bar slash convenience store," according to owner Shawn Kaplan — is slated to open this week in Channelside. Kaplan plans on dishing out those gloriously gooey hamburgers through a special arrangement with White Castle HQ. Except for stuff in the frozen-food case (which doesn't count, so don't fool yourself), Pirate's Cove will have the only authentic, steam-grilled White Castles south of Tennessee. Pirate's Cove will also be open for breakfast to take care of the cruise-ship crowd, feature live acoustic music in the evenings and stay open as late as 3:30 a.m. on weekends. Kaplan says, "This is a bodega, so you can get medicine, condoms, candy as well as enjoy a huge selection of high-end beers and wine in the bar."
Ceviche Offspring
The Tampa and St. Pete tapas joint is spinning off two new locations: the new concept "Pincho" and a Sarasota outpost of Ceviche. Pincho, opening this week, is a tiny little thing located in the former ice cream parlor on the same block of Central as Ceviche's St. Pete spot, and will feature primarily Northern Spanish tapas and wine. Sarasota's Ceviche won't be open until September but will feature a private dining room, giant flamenco bar and rooftop deck in a 3-story, 11,000-square-foot historical building in downtown Sarasota. ceviche.com.
Savor Sarasota
A few weeks ago I laid out a foolproof guide to serious dining down the road in Sarasota ("Savor Sarasota," Feb. 21, 2007). Well, now's your chance to try out some of those restaurants on the cheap, thanks to the Second Annual Savor Sarasota Restaurant Week. Some of SRQ's finest chefs will be dishing out multi-course, fixed-price lunches and dinners for only $15 and $25, respectively. My recommendations? Derek's, Bijou, Canvas Cafe, Vernona and Selva Grill, but almost all of the places on the list are worth a visit at these prices. It'll be worth an hour cruise down the interstate, even with these gas prices. sarasotafl.org/spirit.
Brian Ries is a former restaurant general manager with an advanced diploma from the Court of Master Sommeliers. Creative Loafing food critics dine anonymously, and the paper pays for the meals. Restaurants chosen for review are not related to advertsing.
This article appears in May 30 – Jun 5, 2007.
