Clean Kitchen, Spotless Bathrooms, Filthy Minds

That statement, proclaimed proudly in window paint in the front of a Dallas Deep Ellum burger joint, told me that I was in the right place. The line out the front door offered further confirmation.

On the recent visit to Dallas, my good friend Charley took me out to lunch at the Twisted Root Burger Company. This walk-up-and-order-call-your-name-out gastro-dive is doing it right. Big, fresh, properly cooked burgers with imperfect edges that catch a bitchin' sear in all the right places. Rare? No problem. Med-rare? Sure. Well? Chili's is just down the street, amigo. Nothing for you here.

They offer a couple different kinds of hand-cut fries (hence "twisted root" for their home-grown version of curly fries). They make their own ice cream for crying out loud. In addition to all the usual burgers/toppings several specialties offered were a "vinsin" (sic) burger, home-made ancho or chipotle chile sauce, fried onions and others.

I went for the chipotle, guac, and cheddar burger with fried onions and an order of twisted roots. Upon payment, you're handed your order "name". Don't bother supplying your own name, as one is conveniently provided for you on a greasy little slip of paper. Once the order is ready, the very witty proprietor calls out your name - along with any pop-culture non-sequiturs that may be relevant, such as: "Albert Einstein, your burger is ready; but you probably already knew that." Or: "James Brown, your order is ready......HAAAAAYYY!" Strawberry Shortcake, Brittany Spears, Papa Smurf were some less fortunate names. I lucked out with Optimus Prime. Oh yes, much more than meets the eye.

The wit and timing of order calling actually distracted me somewhat from the juicy hunk of goodness that was my lunch. Did I mention that they also make their own mustard and TWO kinds of ketchup?

These people do have filthy minds. This place was a palace, a temple, the Playboy Mansion of burger porn.

Thank you, Twisted Root, for ruining just about every burger joint I have ever been to. Thanks to you and maybe Taylor's Automatic Refresher in Napa, my life swirls into a vortex of disappointment every time I foolishly think that the burger I am ordering will bring me back to your hallowed halls of 80/20 meat and fresh cut fried potato-y goodness.