Twinkies All Around

Big Bob's Burgers
2215 Harry Wurzbach

(just south of Rittiman Road)

Noting that Big Bob's Burgers is about to open a location near my neighbourhood, on Hildebrand, it was almost pre-ordained that when my friend Rick and I found ourselves on Harry Wurzbach looking for a place for lunch, we would pull into the parking lot of their bright yellow ramshackle building. We arrived just at 11.00, early enough that the neon "Open" sign hadn't been turned on; we were the first customers of the day for them

The menu is straightforward: burgers, fries, tots, onion rings. Three kinds of cheese are offered for the burgers: Swiss, American, and cheddar. I opted for the cheeseburger combo, with cheddar cheese, fries and ice tea — which is available sweetened and unsweetened. (That's three times in a week I've had ice tea; it's also three times in three years. I must be trending.) On an impulse, I ordered a "deep fried Twinkie," having heard of similar silliness (I understand deep fried Mars bars are popular in Scotland). Rick chose the bacon cheeseburger, with Swiss, and onion rings. 

The service was excellent. The young lady behind the register was friendly, engaging, and informative. The manager (possibly the owner; I don't know) was solicitous of his customers, going from table to table making sure everything was satisfactory. (The place is popular with soldiers from nearby Fort Sam; we were about the only people not in uniform; although I was wearing my camouflage shorts from Wal-Mart, so I'm sure I blended right in.) He was particularly interested in my take on the deep fried Twinkie, and told me he'd gotten the idea from a place in Las Vegas.

The prices are about right, for the most part. I thought $1.95 for the fried Twinkie was a little on the steep side, but I'm not going to get worked up about it. The combo price is a pretty good deal at, I think, $6.50, and the á la carte prices are in line with similar places. 

The city's health inspectors appear to be
unaware of the existence of this place.

While we were waiting for our orders to come out, I had a chance to note that the dining room was not very carefully tended. There was food on the floor under some of the tables, including ours, and since the restaurant had just opened, it must have been there all night. Someone needs to check up on the closing crew. (On the other hand, it does offer evidence of a lack of scavenging vermin in the place....) And the floor beneath the soda fountain looks like it hasn't heard the whoosh of a broom since Lieutenant Eisenhower brought his bride to dine. (Having noticed this, I was particularly interested in the city's food-safety inspection report; but I couldn't find that the place has ever been inspected.) The rest of the place, including the restroom, seemed indifferent clean, as a certain English bard or Danish prince might say: that is, clean but not sterilized.

I'm sorry to report that the burger was only fair. It was of a good size, and properly cooked, and the sesame seed bun was reasonably fresh, as were the dressings of lettuce, tomato, pickles and onion. The correct cheese was present in respectable quantity. But the whole package just lacked that special burger flavour that I always look for, that grilled taste that lets you feel you're in somebody's back yard, feet up on a box, waiting for someone to bring you another beer. The burger was strangely bland.

The fries weren't bland, but they weren't good. Deep fried in oil that needs badly to be filtered or changed, they came out with the flavour of seasoned salt and old grease. The seasoned salt I could live with (though I regard it as a passing fad, and would prefer to be given a choice not to have it), but the old grease flavour is not what I look for in my french fries.

Rick's burger was about the same, though he did like the bacon's flavour. And his onion rings were definitely in the top half of their class. The quantity was up there, too: I left most of my fries on the table because they were lousy; he left some of his onion rings because there were just so many of them.

Surprisingly, that deep fried Twinkie was the high point of my visit. Not that I would get it again, but it was definitely an enjoyable splurge. It came out looking like a flabby, undercooked corn-dog, on a wide popsicle stick, golden-brown with just a hint of darker colours around the edges. I admit that I haven't experienced the taste of a Twinkie in, oh, dozens of years, but as soon as I touched it to my tongue I could identify that remarkably memorable taste of sponge cake and preservatives that is the hallmark of the eternal kiddie treat. The filling, however, melts in the heat and puddles at the bottom. While this gives you a pleasant charge of sweetness when you get down that far in your devouring, it also gives you an unpleasant burning sensation as it dribbles out onto your fingers when the feeble cake shell is breached. Be warned, but enjoy.