Suck it, In-N-Out, Culver's rules!

The only good part of my 14-month sentence at the San Gabriel Valley Tribune was the In-N-Out across the street from the parking lot. THE original In-N-Out.

 

It's:
1) In N Out
2) Kopp's
3) Culver's

For the Milwaukee paper to run an item about best burgers and NOT to mention local champion Kopp's is heresy. I know the writer was just citing someone else's survey, but it's another Wisconsin-based frozen custard 'n' burgers chain (small). If you haven't had burger from Kopp's -- about the diameter of a volleyball -- you need to do a road trip. Seriously.

 

Until this year I've only been to a Culver's and thought it was awesome but had my first In N Out burger at spring training. Not even close. One of the things I'm looking forward to in a trip to San Diego in December is another stop or two there.

Red Robin clearly No. 3.

 

Fuddrucker's trumps all. Yeah, I said it.

 

I can only deal with Buttfucker's once a year, if that. It's one of those places that seems like it'd be really good, and then it ends up not being.

 

Joe, personally, I agree with you. Hung out at Kopp's pretty much every night throughout high school and consumed many of their burgers. My dad is friends with Carl Kopp from high school, so we were always a Kopp's family -- none of the Gillies or Oscar's crap.

 

Their shakes are good, but the food is mediocre.

 

Fatburger.

End of Thread.

 

Culvers is good... but it's no In-N-Out.

 

Why do you hurt me, IJAG?

Fuddruckers anecdote: During college, I spent a summer in an areal ecology and areal geology class. We spent five weeks traveling from the Pittsburgh area out to Yellowstone and back. We stopped at various state and national parks along the way, trapping small animals for surveys, doing tree surveys and digging soil pits.
The unwritten requirement was — if you wanted an A you had to not only ace the material you also had to stay up boozing with the two professors every night.
After night after night of hard drinking, we'd have to get up at the crack of dawn to do the field work. It was brutal.
Think about getting up at 5 a.m. with a bone-crushing hangover, hauling yourself out to some godforsaken section of prairie to dig a 6-foot pit until lunch. Then when we felt sure we were about to die at age 19, the profs would haul us off to a Fuddruckers and taunt us if we didn't scarf down a half-pound of rare hamburger meat.
Then it was back out to the prairie, in the July heat, to dig some more, with a horrible hangover and a belly full of undigested, half-raw meat.
Glory days.

 

Clearly you are delusional.