Five Guys: when you just need meat

Sometimes you just need a greasy-ass burger. Sometimes, you also need to top that burger with a mountain of crispy fried starchy goodness. Sometimes, you just need to plow into that meal in a no-nonsense, no-pretense setting. In other words, sometimes you just need to make a trip to Five Guys. I wasn't sure about making Five Guys this edition of my weekly fieldtrip. It's a chain restaurant, to begin with, and the food was so good, I wasn't sure I could review it without sounding like an ad for the restaurant. But as I said, sometimes you just need a burger, and, in honor of President's Day, I thought I'd satisfying this particular craving at Five Guys.

Five Guys: Burgers & Fries has been something of a nation-sweeping sensation the past decade. The chain, which started in Washington, D.C., quickly gained popularity through their tasty, user-friendly model. Order at a counter à la fast food restaurant. However, customize your burger with up to 16 toppings, all of which are free. Your double-stacked burger (for what you may consider a regular size you need to order a "Little Burger") is served up in a paper bag within a few minutes. Munch on some of the free peanuts while you wait for your food and people-watch the clientele that spans every possible social divide. If you ordered some fries (you should), then on top of your wax-paper wrapped burger you'll find a paper cup loaded with thick cut, fried spuds. They don't stop there, however. If you watch the guys in their uniforms behind the counter, you'll see that once fries start going in the bag, they keep going in until they reach the brim, spilling all over the innards of your bag and rubbing their greasy deliciousness on everything they touch. For this reason, most people arrive at their table with a splotchy, wet brown paper bag that may even be dripping from the grease inside. It's a beautiful sight.

Sure the norm may be a push toward this thing people call "healthy eating," but I think that artery-clogging, oily food tastes phenomenal. It's far better than the rabbit food people laud as good for you.

The Five Guys burger is like the Big Mac's better looking brother, the one that isn't a popularity whore, but still manages to give everyone what they want. For me, this means ordering it all the way, plus jalapeños. This lands you two slippery patties covered in cheese, lathered in a veritable soup of condiments—mayo, ketchup and mustard—and forced unforgivingly between two helpless buns amidst lettuce, onions, pickles, two tomato slices and, in my case, a handful of jalapeños. And if you're up to the challenge, throw some bacon on there too.

The atmosphere of the place itself is at once in-your-face and tongue-in-cheek. With bags of potatoes hung on the walls and an attitude that says, "this is what we serve. If you want something else, then this place isn't for you," Five Guys represents a very American strain of anti-change. However liberal I am, when it comes to food, I like the idea of conservative cuisine. In a society that keeps finding itself in a tizzy about some new diet trend, it's incredibly comforting to find a place that rejects the cult of egg-white omelettes, low-carb meals and fears over which fats might be bad for you. No screwing around allowed here. Sure, the menu has grilled cheese on it, but if you ordered it you may get laughed out of the building.

Whether you like it or not, a big, juicy hamburger is the representative dish of American cuisine. You should be able to feel like you're eating an American meal without building a Thanksgiving feast, and Five Guys gives you that chance. The red and white color scheme that permeates every facet of the interior design almost requires that you salute it, and the soundtrack—American favorites from your parents' generation—will remind you how cool Woodstock probably was. It's depressing to hear about McDonalds opening up in France or Spain and people flocking to them en masse to have an El Mac or a Royale with Cheese. To eat fries and a burger out of a Five Guys paper bag is to have your idea of American fast food completely changed, and I think that if you at all enjoy a burger, you need to give it a try.

In terms of what to get when you do make the trek to Route 9, a recommendation from me won't do it. The beauty of Five Guys is the total customizability of your burger. I can say that spice really makes a burger for me, and I was far from disappointed with the jalapeños. The possibilities are basically endless, and with a little imagination you can build some real behemoths.

The only thing I can definitively say is that you must, must get fries with your burger. The thick spud strips are coated in a combination of salt and sugar that has opium level addiction potential and have a perfect crispy outside to starchy inside ratio. My only complaint is that the only two condiments to dip said fries into are ketchup and vinegar. Both are amazing on fries, but sometimes I just need that mustard/ketchup mix or some barbecue laced with Tabasco. Even without a smorgasbord of dips, it's impossible to plow through these with any dignity.

This stuff is indulgent in the best possible way, and I fully endorse going all the way with a huge bacon cheeseburger and a pound or so of fries. While your waistline may not forgive you for a while, you might never again feel as satiated—you will be smiling when you walk out the door. Just be prepared to lie down and do nothing but digest for the next few hours.