The Unvegan

The mere fact that a place called Fatburger is able to survive in today’s world is a testament to it’s culinary goodness. In a city dominated by “organic,” “whole” and “vegetarian,” it is a beacon of hope. At the entrance there is a sign that reads “Man did not claw his way to the top of the food chain to eat tofu,” but it is more than just a sign. It is a message, a message that you have arrived at a safe haven in a world gone health-mad.

My cousin came into town tonight for his annual trip to LA, in which we make our annual trip to the Fatburger in Palms. Fatburger has not limited themselves to just beef, as they now offer burgers made out of anything from Boca (gross) to spicy chicken. In my mind, though, it is unwise to go with anything less than the 1/2 pound Kingburger (sometimes a double Kingburger is necessary). The name Fatburger is actually kind of misleading, referring not the the amount of fat in the burger, but rather to the amount of toppings included on the burger. These toppings are mustard, relish, onions, pickles, tomatoes, lettuce and mayo. All of these forsaken products of non-sentient beings disagree with me. Instead, I order mine with cheese, bacon and a fried egg. It is not a treat to be taken lightly (or to be eaten more than once a month for fear of immediate, albeit happy, cardiac arrest).

The burger was perfectly cooked and prepared, with all the right ingredients and none of the wrong. It was well-complimented by a side of fat fries and a cup of fat lemonade. It’s a combination that will keep me coming back again and again.