The Porch
2912 N. Henderson Ave.
Dude Factor: 10, or The Stodg, on a scale of 1 (The Great Pyramid of Giza) to 10.
This Dude Food is being filed from the home office, where I'm currently enjoying a productive birthday staycation. In honor of this momentous occasion (alas, the last year of my twenties), my lovely ladyfriend took me out for a nice dinner at The Porch, a restaurant I've been dreaming about ever since my first visit a few months back.
Despite tales of delicious grub, I'd avoided The Porch for a couple years at first, largely for two reasons--valet parking and Henderson douche brahs. However, now I know that these trials and tribulations are simply the sacrifices you must make in order to win the affections of the burger gods, so that these deities of grindage might smile upon you.
The lady and I started out with the Fried Port Salute Cheese, which is
easily the best fried cheese in Dallas, if not the world. Sure, four
pieces of the stuff for nine dollars is highway robbery, but in the two
times I've had this stuff it's never ceased to amaze me--it's lighter
and fluffier than any other form of the dish I've ever had, and the
salty tang of the cheese will haunt your taste buds for ages--every
time I taste a lesser cheesestick now, I cry a little inside, knowing I
could be eating one of these instead.
Cheese craving fulfilled,
I decided to celebrate my birthday in style with the artery-clogging,
award-winning and much ballyhooed Stodg Burger--a 6 oz. sirloin patty
with aged cheddar, applewood smoked bacon and fried egg on foie
buttered bun. Holy shit, dudes.
When the Stodg arrived I was
amazed at its beauty, the bulging burger wrapped in yellow wax paper to
save the sea salt fries from a premature foie and egg bath. I must have
had the same look on my face as Columbus did when he first glimpsed the
New World--and like Columbus, I aimed to conquer.
As I began to tackle this monstrosity, my girlfriend felt the pangs of
jealousy, remarking that the faces I made while alternately eating and
staring at the burger made her slightly uncomfortable. There was only
one solution: I brought her into the fray by letting her have a bite or
two--a Me-Stodg a trois if you will. Happy Birthday to me, huh?
As I let the burger's copious juices run down my arms, I contemplated
the meaning of my 29 years, bowed my head to the burger gods and
thanked them for the Stodg, easily one of the top ten things I've eaten
in my life. If you haven't already, pony up the $15 (I know it sounds
wrong, but trust me) and try it for yourself, dudes. It will change
your life.
