Frankie Goes To Port-O-Hollywood

Frankie's Bar and Grill
3227 McKinney Ave.

Observe as Frankie's nachos dwarf your puny American currency.
Observe as Frankie's nachos dwarf your puny American currency.
Noah W. Bailey

Dude Factor: 8, or  Andre the Giant, on a scale of 1 (Shawn Bradley) to 10 (Shaq)

Frankie's Bar and Grill is one of those places we've driven by a million times and never even thought twice about. In fact, we regularly confuse it with every other patio bar on McKinney Avenue.

We  felt an uncontrollable urge to visit a slightly generic American bar and grill on our lunch break today, however--preferably one with a name like Frankie's or Snookie's--and decided it was worth a shot.

Walking in, we expected a light crowd if any, but it turned out we were the only crowd--eight co-workers sitting in an empty bar surrounded by approximately 100 TVs competing for our attention by offering up news bites, trivia questions and a replay of a round one 2006 playoff match-up between the San Antonio Spurs and the doomed Sacramento Kings. And that's just what we managed to pick out when we weren't trying to process the clusterfuck of a menu, which offers Chicken Breast Strippers ("All 'T' and no 'A'"), Freedom Fries and wraps known as Rapper'z ("All Rapper'z served with subpoenas"). We can always get behind a menu joke or two, but this was just too much.

Luckily, the trend of sensory overload continued when we received our food, which was doled out in portions amazingly out of scale with what normally constitutes reality--I had to peek back in the kitchen just to make sure Michel Gondry wasn't the line cook. One order of nachos could have easily fed a small nation, while the half pound "Colt" burgers (served on an onion bun) came alongside heaping orders of thin, crispy fries. An appetizer plate of fried pickle chips was similarly outsized, a good thing since even the pickle-haters amongst us seemed to enjoy them.

Frankie's also serves a burger called "the Sumo" that features a 1 1/2 pound patty complete with another half-pound of fixins, though none of us dared attempt such a culinary endeavor with a full afternoon of work ahead of us (though I'm sure Patrick will answer the call of duty one of these days).

Just to add to the bizarre size of our meal, the waitress brought the Girl Drink Drunk an extra-giant pizza box to transport her personal pizza (Girl Drink Drunk: "Is this the 12-inch?" Dude Food: "Hehehehehehe") to the car, which proved an extraordinary task indeed.To top it all off, Frankie's bathrooms are currently being remodeled--they'll be done soon, according to the waitress--so they've got some super fancy port-o-potties on wheels parked outside, complete with real sinks and art on the walls. You even flush with your foot, which we have to admit was a pretty fun way to kill five or ten minutes.

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