Ahem:
The best part of an In-N-Out hamburger is the lettuce — it’s crunchy and moist. And when that’s the best you can say about a burger, you’re not saying much. Every other component is unremarkable. The beef patty might never get refrigerated, but it isn’t revelatory; the bread that holds it together easily disintegrates under even the gentlest of grips: the onions are, well, onions; and the tomatoes are a reminder that people don’t know what good tomatoes taste like. And the American cheese tastes like it just got flash-grilled onto plastic...
In-N-Out is a symbol of Southern California at its absolute worst: Eternal traffic. Nostalgia for a past that never really existed. A mob mentality. Fast food. And, worst of all, all hype and little substance.
We cover In-N-Out a fair bit ’round these parts. We’re a food site, they make food, pretty straightforward. And every time we run an In-N-Out story, there are, without fail, folks in the comments talking a blue streak about how seriously overrated those burgers are. So here is what we want to know: Which one of you is “Gustavo Arellano” of the Journal of Alto California? Declare yourself. There are some pretty sick burns in there, we’d like to congratulate you.
DISCUSSION
Aw, I like Gustavo... I think we have one of his books and I watched a speech he gave on tacos once.
Here’s my take on In-n-Out. Every town has its local mediocre burger to hold dear. I came from Seattle, so Dick’s is my version. Yeah, there are probably better burgers, but that’s my place man... every time I go back there, I have to get a couple. So I shrugged a bit over In-n-Out, but I don’t fault Californians for holding it dear.