Lunch special: Burger, fries and a drink for $6.36
Tiny, tiny building count: 1
Burgers on the grill count: 7 bazillion
Either a car just backfired or that was a gun shot count: 1
Every time you drive your car through a Wendy's, you're cheating yourself. Every time you order a double from Burger King, you should be ashamed. You waste of a carnivore. You joke of a meat-eating human being. You burger hack. You've never heard of Wingfield's, you say? You've never heard of the southern Dallas burger shack that will blow your burger-eating mind? Well, you've heard of it now. And if the stock of fast-food burger chains doesn't plummet as a result of this news, I'm going to be pissed, and you're going to turn out to be dumber than I thought you could possibly be.
When I pulled into a parking space in front of Wingfield's on South Beckley Avenue, a waft of heavenly burger grease smell came my way, and I was already sold. The building is only 4 feet longer than it needs to be for the grill to fit inside it, and there's only room for a couple of people to stand inside and order food. So, don't waste anybody's time once you get inside—there are other mouths to feed, and you already know what you want. The question in your mind isn't, "Do I want a burger?" It's "Do I want a half-pound single, a one-pound double, or a one-and-a-half-pound triple?" Yeah, there's a triple. (So, if anyone was wondering if we're in burger heaven at Wingfield's or not, I hope that's all cleared up now.)
I ordered a single with cheese, fully loaded, plus crinkle fries and a Coke. And after she took my order, the life changer behind the counter said, "15 minutes." I think that this part of the process is about giving you some alone time to amp yourself up. "I'm gonna eat the crap out of this burger. It's gonna be Me: 1, Burger: nothin'. I'm gonna scarf down this burger so hard it won't know what hit its greased-up, perfectly grilled, mustarded, mayo-ed and vegetabled ass. And those crinkle fries? Pshht. They're dead to me." After I did my mouth stretches and cracked my neck a couple times, I was ready. I went back inside, and my food was up. I paid my $6.36 in cash (Don't bring your plastic cards from the future here. They're not welcome.), and I went back out to my car and ate the best big burger I've had in Dallas. To quote David Mamet, "Fuck." This burger was fucking so fuckin' good. In a few years, when I have a heart attack because I've been going to Wingfield's every day since today, it will so have been worth it.
If you don't go to Wingfield's as soon as you possibly can, do me a favor and just start calling yourself a vegetarian.