Las Palmas Super Burrito

Greetings my loyal readers. I apologize once again for my long absence, but I am now back from my Black Sabbatical. My dick is hard and I’m fucking hungry.

The weather has been nice, which makes me want to take off all of my clothes and chill in the sun all day. Unfortunately for extreme white people like myself, that shit burns you. The only cure for a sun burn is of course the Mexican Aloe Vera, aka Burrito Greaze, so down to Fruitvale we go to gather our homeopathic remedies:

Las Palmas Super Burrito

Let’s check out some reviews so we can get an idea of what to expect, shall we?

Ok they are racist here. But how is the food? 

She’s pissed off and full as hell!  

So I guess this place is racist and full of hood rats with big orders. There is also none of your typical Mexican restaurant decor. Instead there is this random picture of dudes chilling on a skyscraper:

And one of MLK Jr:

I think he’s looking at the menu, perhaps at the weird desserts:

Sock It To Me cake? I’m guessing this is sorta like when you were 10 and your older brother would ask you if you want a ‘Hurts Donut’ and then of course you’d say yes and then he’d punch you in the nuts and say ‘hurts don’t it?!’ Except here the sweaty cook in the back just comes out and punches you in the nuts and then just walks away.

They don’t even offer regular burritos here. Only super. Fuck yeah.

They sell some shit called ‘Whiting’ . Not sure if this is a Crest product or some fish.

I really hope the taco salad is just 3 avocados in a tortilla shell. 

Not really sure what the deal with all of the southern food here is but it’s pretty rad. Never been to a Mexican place that offered gumbo. Unfortunately my assistant called in sick, and rolling solo means limited ordering capacity, so I just ordered the Steak and Shrimp super burrito and some hushpuppies. The Steak and Shrimp super burrito is almost $14, so I was a bit worried that for all that money, I was not going to get that full. Fortunately this place does NOT fuck around:


I realized I was actually not even that hungry, but when life puts these things in front of you sometimes you just gotta take them down:

It’s pretty crazy to think that every single person that gets a burrito here is getting something this big. I must say I admire Las Palmas philosophy of no compromise-all feast. Look inside this thing:

Inside was a plethora of greaze. The meat exuded many fluids, and when paired with soured cream it was downright wetter than a dog pussy. The shrimp was great too. Every time I would get a wet ass bite and started to get overwhelmed, I’d hit a shrimp pocket and it would provide some relief. The lettuce didn’t even bother me. There was also a bunch of pickled jalapenos in there which added a nice balance. As you work your way down the burrito, it manages to get wider and wider and soon you have to eat it like a corn on the cob, from side to side.


The precious Mexican Aloe Vera started squirting on the table:


The hushpuppies were pretty good too. The picture doesn’t look like much, but trust me, they were delicious. I ate all of them, and all of my burrito, and then tried to ride my bike home without shitting my pants. Would definitely come back here again.

Thanks again for reading! Eternal feasting hails!

Hacienda Grill: Mammoth Sized Burritos?

Recently I finally gave my old shitty boss my big fat middle finger in his face and moved on to a new job.


Instead of working in Berkeley, the land of small plate gourmet meals for losers, I work now in Richmond, where the indigenous culture of getting fucking full until you shit your pants has not succumbed to outside pressures. It feels good to be able to roam around only a few minutes from work and find a fat burrito to fill my body. Like a mother needs a fat ass baby in its womb, I similarly yearn for a round figure. A quick Google search yielded exciting results:

Massive portions of Mexican basics

The inclusion of the term ‘Mexican basics’ seems rather odd because I’ve never been somewhere to get a burrito and was overwhelmed with the complexity of the food. Beans, rice, some meat and some tortillas and boom, feed that shit into yourself.


The location of the restaurant is in downtown Richmond, near the BART station. It’s also across the street from Kaiser Permanente. Everyone knows that after you get out of the doctor you are usually pretty hungry, especially after surgery. Just ask this guy:

Hey readers, here is a little piece of advice. If they are closing the gates and trying to go home when you try to roll up and you still insist on eating there, you have a 1000% of someone putting their dick in your food. It’s statistically impossible to not have someone at least dip their nutsack in your refried beans if you are that fucking obtuse.

Anyway, here is the outside of the restaurant:

I’m a big fan of whimsical portrayals of chile peppers as humans, and this place does not disappoint:


Inside there is enough room to seat about a hundred people:

The grandma in the above picture rules. Under her handkerchief she had a shirt with a giant weed leaf and it said “A smoke a day keeps the doctor away.” One can only hope she breaks off some sticky buds for the grandchildren. Let’s look at the menu:

Why would you pay someone 50 cents to cut a burrito in half? If you are so frail that you can’t cut the softest food known to man in half you probably shouldn’t be even eating. 

I really like the description of the ‘Harbour Burrito’. A burrito stuffed with rice, beans, etc. It kinda sounds like first they wrap the burrito into a hollow shell, and then they forcefully grab bare handfuls of beans and rice and shove it inside. Kinda gets my dick a little hard in a weird way.

Grilled liver? Don’t see that very often


I of course ordered the Super Burrito, just to see how ‘mammoth’ these things really were, and if they could fill my body up. My assistant wanted to order something like a bean and cheese burrito, but I convinced the assistant to order the Javier Burger instead. Who is this Javier? When a man names a burger, he is beckoning the world to listen to him, and his voice must be heard.

They give you chips and salsa at the table. Hell yeah:

Chips were pretty good. Salsa was a bit too tomatoish. Onward to food:

As you can see, the burrito isn’t even that big. There are a lot of reviews of this place that say ‘football sized’ and ‘big enough for two’. No way. Maybe you can chew this thing up and momma-bird two newborn babies, but two grown adults? Let’s take a look inside the burrito.

True to form of a plate burrito, even the slightest attempt to lift off the plate gave signs of imminent tortilla collapse, so I had to use a fork. I really hate using a fork for a burrito (only acceptable for mojado) because it greatly limits the amount I can put in my mouth at once. I got the carnitas and it was pretty juicy greazy.

As you can see, there are also vast tracts of burrito land that one can wander inside of this burrito with nary a meatz.

Actual picture of my mouth looking for meat in a particularly difficult section of burrito. 

Fortunately, much like the sandworms, I’m able to move quickly enough to go back to good sections that prevail with meat, cheese, and creams and guacs. Overall, I’d say the burrito is pretty whatever though. The carnitas was good, but I prefer the slightly crispy cooked kind. The beans and rice were kinda bland, and the sour creams and guacs were too light in their application. Let’s see how the Javier Burger is:

Kinda frumpy 

You are a dirty greazy boy JAVIER

Who’s the dickhead who makes their signature burger just a patty and cheese and mayo? Javier, that’s who. Shit is plain. My assistant was trying to make me eat the patty and just eat the burger as a grilled cheese. I was down, but I figured the Javier needed an honest appraisal as it was meant to be served. The assistant reported a sort of shoulder shrug response.

Hacienda Grill, I want to love you, but their just isn’t a lot of action going on with the flavors.


Here is a rad Google review of a dude complaining about a MEXICAN restaurant being too MEXICAN:

Worth your coins? What the fuck is this guy, a pirate? 

Tommy’s Castaic Cafe

It’s not too often I get back down to visit SoCal anymore, but you can be damn sure that when I do, I don’t waste my time going to the hip urban parts like LA and San Diego. Fuck that. My mother did not raise a fool. She also did not raise someone who is very socially adept, so I try to steer clear of places where people are ‘cooler’ than me, so off to Castaic I went. Once there, I got hungry, so off to Tommy’s Castaic Cafe I went:

It looks like one of those ‘internet cafes’ but it’s not

The weather was downright pleasant so I sat outside and basked in the glory of all the traffic on the 5 freeway.



Let’s go inside Tommy’s menu. Oh boy does he have some goodies!

Not sure what’s going on with the chili portion of the menu. They got Single and Double Chili Cheese Dishes but it’s anyone’s guess what the fuck a ‘dish’ is:

When a burger is so fucking fat they don’t even call it a burger it’s just a ‘size’



Usually I’m not a big omelette kind of person, but I’d be pretty fucked if someone put a gun to my dick and told me I had to choose between the ‘Local Favorite’ and ‘Jeronimo’s Belly Buster’:

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of grappling with my own inner struggles of potential food consumption, I settled on what seemed to be the dish for me. The Fucking Mess:

Joined in unholy greaze matrimony with toast or biscuit 

The waitress (who was incredibly nice to me and said I could sit outside as long as I felt like it and read my Woody Guthrie book) came up to take my order. I told her I’d have one Mess please. She politely asked “Would you like gravy on your Mess?” I said hell yes, even though I’m pretty sure that’s how rapists ask you if you prefer they use lube before they take your body against your will.

God damn it I’m killing myself to live

There’s not much to say about The Mess that you can’t see in the pictures. It’s good. It’s really good. It slides down your throat easy. After the first couple cups of gravy you probably should start taking some Tums or something but aside from that it’s pretty rad. Also they have fresh homemade salsa that is really really delicious.

I used about half of this jar on my food. 

The Mess is CLEANSED

Let’s take a look at a review from Yelp so that you readers are getting a full range of unbiased reports. This one comes from this guy:

Solid profile pic

I honestly really love trying to make sense of these stream of consciousness reviews. They are almost impossible to decipher. He says:

“when I mentioned to the waitress she’s the worst she said okay bad service worst food stay away” 

So this motherfucker casually mentions to the waitress “hey you’re the worst”. She didn’t get mad at him. Instead, she took pity on him. Like a mother to a child with a skinned elbow she admits, “okay….bad service. It’s the worst food also! You should just stay away.”

Sounds plausible.

The Rusty Porthole

Some people in this world seek riches, some seek sex, and some seek fame. Some people seek out the dumpiest fucking bar they could possibly find in hopes of spending their 30th birthday there. Once you turn 30 you’re old and you might as well deliberately sabotage your life, and such is the predicament I found myself last month. But oh where can one find such treasures of dumpy existence you ask? Bethel Island of course. As you drive further and further into decomposition and decay, questioning your willingness to ironically mingle with people that probably rape shit and steal shopping carts, not only is there TUGS, which is definitely worthy of a SUMMONING visit all by itself:

But there is also THE RUSTY PORTHOLE:

I should also mention that you can drive a boat here if you want. That’s some next level white trash shit that most wife beaters can only dream of.


I went on my voyage to dumpsterville when it was pouring rain to further add to my experience of utter destitution, although to be fair this place seems pretty bucolic when it’s nice outside. Inside was a mixture of kitsch and semi-racist people getting fucked up all day. So let’s spit on 2 or 3 (if you are feeling generous) fingers and enter the Rusty Porthole:

They had a lot of weird decorations on the walls, including a TV that intermittently displayed the most primitive graphic designs to advertise Rusty Porthole events.

The only thing worse than the graphics is my ability to capture them

Guy Fieri is God here

The waitress came over to talk to us. She was quite a piece of work. She promptly told us that she had been up until the wee hours in the morning getting fucked up and how hung over she was and how she had accidentally paid her bar tab twice and how the boss is a dick cuz he won’t admit that she had paid it twice and how he’s keeping the money blah blah blah blah. I felt like I was sitting at a bus stop or something and some crazy bitch came up to me to ask for a quarter, except this was a restaurant/bar. I almost felt like this was some sort of cosmic intervention of my drinking, warning me of the potential life I could have if I continue to drink all the time, but I ordered a cocktail anyways:

First I ordered the Bloody Maria:

Shit was really good actually. There was some vegetables sticking out but I ate them first.

Then I was feeling frisky so I ordered the Porthole Nut.


The waitress yelled over her shoulder to the bartender “gimmie a Porthole Nut, for a man”. Then the bartender replied “hey, you can’t use that kinda language in here” and then laughed a lot. Then she put the drink in front of me, which apparently is a shooter, which I fucking hate by the way, and then she told me I’ve gotta slam it. I put the drink back into my throat and the waitress yelled in my ear to ask if I “busted a nut” and then laughed maniacally. I politely told her that my nut is still fully intact. At this point I was worried that if I tried to order some food I’d have to hear a shitty child support story or something, but I dared look at the food menu anyways:

You apparently can order a steak on a french roll here, but I ended up ordering the ‘Rajun Cajun Sandwich’, which due to my shitty photography skills was partly cropped in my photo. It came with a big ass gutted pepper inside:

The sandwich was pretty far from rajun. They should change the name of the sandwich from Rajun Cajun to Middle Aged Sad White Guy From The South Sandwich. Even the description they put of the sandwich is kind of sad. Mild chili? That is not very rajing. Yet despite all of my personal raj, I was still just a rat in a caj, so I had to eat the sandwich. My plate was empty and the waitress came by and said “Well you weren’t FUCKING HUNGRY were you?!” and then walked away. Actually, I just need some calories to fill my body up regardless of their flavor content. I hate how the staff always thinks their food is the shit just cuz you ate it all. It’s like, I paid for this shit. I would be throwing my money away if I didn’t eat it. Sometimes if I find candy that is still on the wrapper on the street I eat it. That doesn’t mean I want to eat that when I go out to a restaurant.

I should also mention that the fries, or I suppose the F.F. if I’m to use Rusty Porthole terminology, were pretty whatever. These are about as good as the time I first discovered that the frozen bags of fries you buy at the store come out a lot better if you put them in the oven instead of the microwave. Plus, this wasn’t even the dumpiest bar that I’ve ever been to. That honor belongs to the Glen Avon Pub (RIP):

glen avon

But don’t take my word for it, let’s take a look at a nice little Google Review:

Not So Amazing Kitchen

Happy (Post) Valentine’s Day feasters! This day is a lot like St. Patrick’s Day for drinkers. There are a lot of fucking amateurs eating out at restaurants nibbling at little plates and talking about some really dumb topics with their dates. Meanwhile the real dudes who live this life every day have to suffer long lines and slower service due to these poseurs who are hoping to get someone to touch their nutsacks. That’s why this Valentine’s Day I opted to take my lady out to a culinary destination only a true asshole would take a date to and thus avoided any sort of unnecessary lines or waits. Enter Amazing Kitchen:


Good for kids, and even walk-ins are welcome!



After entering, I was really surprised that they just let any old person walk in off the street. I mean look at this place. Definitely not a total shithole:



Would a place that lets people come in WITHOUT even ONE fucking reservation have the most bootleg Thai Tea product advertisement placement ever?


This was taped to the wall behind me. Stock photo as fuck. 

Sometimes I go to the restaurants for this blog and I am mildly amused at my surroundings. And then there are times I just think to myself, “Man, this joke is getting really, really depressing.” Such was the case this time. I already knew my food was gonna suck. The restaurant was super cold inside and nobody was in there except a quiet family and their crying baby. But sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and order some dumb shit. Let’s indulge:


Oddly fancy hardcover book for a menu


Dong. Nut. 


Fucking Fried Rice 

Navigating a Chinese food menu can be a vast and laborious experience. If you make it past the Beginner Levels you are allowed to proceed to Advanced, which is kind of like having a black belt, except the belt is really long because you’re obese as fuck.


Different Mixed Food only $50

You know what life is like when you start knowing about some Different Mixed Food kinda shit? Kinda like this dude, plus 200 lbs:


There are also many grotesque renderings of birds in the menu:



That face though


Thank God they have a disclaimer about the pictures:


Parts of the cuisine in this menu are probably not extremely same as the photos they are shown! 

So to see just how ‘extremely same’ the pictures are to what you actually get I ordered the ‘House Special Steamed Chicken’, you know, the one that comes with the sad face of the chicken on the plate. This is what the dish actually looked like:


Color of chicken was not nearly as yellow, nor was the face as sad.


This stuff that looks like pond scum is actually an extremely salty ginger dipping water/sauce. It’s not very good.


Looking for pieces of meat to suck out of the head


I poked the eye socket and a bunch of black goo came out. Fuck. 

The steamed chicken came out to table at a pretty cold temperature. The inside of the pile of meat was kinda warm, but the rest was straight up cold. Pretty sure this dish is not supposed to be served this way. I tried to get the waiter to come by to see if he could throw the plate back in the microwave for a bit but he never came by so I just kept eating the chicken until most of it was gone. At this point I was wondering how much I would have to pay the waiter to tell me with a degree of honesty if I was gonna get food poisoned as fuck.


I also ordered the Spicy Wontons. They also came to the table at a whopping 65 degrees Fahrenheit. Is the microwave broken back there or what? These things were actually actively kinda gross though. They had this peanut sauce on them that tasted vaguely peanut-ish but also tasted of liquid plastic, if that’s even a thing. At this point I was more intrigued as to what in the actual fuck was going on in the kitchen. Pretty sure they were just intentionally keeping the food at the ideal bacterial reproduction rate temperatures in order to completely and utterly destroy my body.



I sampled the chili paste they had on the table. Dear Lord was that a mistake:


It looks much paler than that normal chili oil/paste stuff you usually find on the table. I put some on my plate and gathered some up on my chopsticks with my rice. There was no spice or heat whatsoever. The flavor was bizarre. It actually tasted like fermented grape juice or some kind of wine a teenager would make in his room. The oil tasted super stale too. Pretty sure this stuff was ANCIENT. It tasted nothing like chili. I’m not even joking around or using hyperbole. At this point I was on my phone deciding what casket to buy cuz I was convinced my body was basically now a biological weapon with enough deadly bacteria inside of it to kill at least 3 cave networks of ISIS.


Just FYI readers this is the one I want

The final dish I ordered was the XO Sauce with Beef and Mixed Mushroom. I don’t know what XO sauce is but it sounded vaguely Valentine’s-ish so I ordered that. Not sure if this was a good choice or not. I asked the waiter what he recommended as far as dishes go and he just shrugged “Depend on what you want.” OH REALLY? THANKS MAN. Anyway, it was the one dish that arrived with any semblance of being heated recently.


The food was sweet and salty and pretty typical cheap Chinese food, but in contrast with the other dishes this thing was amazing. It should be noted that all of the other empty un-bused tables got complimentary hot tea but none was brought to our table. Also, we were brought forks with no chopsticks.


I got the impression that Amazing Kitchen just really hated me on a very personal level. This is probably the worst restaurant I’ve ever been to. I am really struggling to think of something that sucked harder than this, and I’ve been to some pretty shitty spots. When we were driving to get here we were considering just getting tamales out of the back of some abuelita’s truck and then getting churros, which in retrospect would have been way more rad. But yeah, AVOID this place. Luckily I survived the night after eating here, and didn’t even wake up with any shit on the bed.

There was a review on Yelp where some lady was talking mad shit about this restaurant because one of the employees was seen picking up trash outside the restaurant with tongs and this person gave the restaurant a one star review because of this. They thought they were handling food with the tongs after picking up trash on the street.


Picture that was used for grounds of one star review

I was so pissed about this review I wrote yelp to take it down. Obviously this reviewer is fucking insane, and just randomly throwing family places a one star review is a dick move. But you know what? Maybe this restaurant kind of deserves it.

The Melding Of Greaze and Numbing Spice: Sichuan Fusion

Why hello there. Remember last post when I told you guys that there was going to be a three part series about ‘Xtreme’ restaurants? Well, obviously that’s not gonna happen, due to circumstances that are beyond the control of a blogger who is only putting in the absolute minimum amount of effort into maintaining a blog. But don’t despair yet, for despite the fact that I haven’t posted in over a month, I have eaten some food in that duration of time. In fact, I have been keeping the wooden portion of the plunger at work from the danger of the wood becoming overly dry, by the simple act of dunking it in to the filled-to-the-brim shit water on a nearly daily basis. So follow me into this glorious post, which will undoubtedly lead to the plunger plunging the shit-depths once again. Today we step into an Asian indoor mall known as 99 Ranch Market, and Summon The Fucking Feast:


Sichuan Fusion

So you may be asking yourself right now, “Why this place?” Most leaders who rule with an iron fist like myself would simply crush your skull immediately for such insubordinate questioning, but today I am feeling gracious, so I will indulge your plebeian whims. Well in order to Feast one must open all of the five senses to track down where the greaze is. First, use the Dick in order to point yourself to the inviting smells. Then use the fucking Brain in order to read the sign outside that boasts of sick delights:


Jew’s Fucking Ear with Chopped Chili

A wise man once said “To err is to human, to ear is to Jew, but to forgive is divine”, a phrase that is old as fuck yet still bears true today. Although outlawed many decades ago as being inhumane, the practice of removing the Jew’s ear and gnawing on the precious meat until you have a flavor stain in your pants is still quite prevalent today. Personally I find the trade quite heinous, much like cutting the fin off a shark and throwing the shark back in to the ocean to die, it’s just downright abhorrent, regardless of how utterly fucking flavored the meats are. Such morality though only acts to betray a True Feaster of a True Feast though, because sadly such establishments that are willing to adhere to these old practices are usually also the best examples of their chosen culinary style. So now let’s sit down and take a look around:


Pretty fancy 

20161218_153026.jpg20161218_154947.jpgLittle fake chilis on the wall ward away those born with a weak palate, much like garlic to a vampire. 


20161218_153939.jpgThe Sichuan Style Roast Whole Fish is apparently the shit to get here. It also has the Jew’s Ear for that forthright flavor. I was not trying to get forthright really, plus the $38 price tag relegates this dish purely to landmark birthday territory. Perhaps when I turn 30?


As many of you readers already know, I’m a big fan of the ass, so when I have an opportunity to bury my face into such things I will do so with abandon. Enter the ‘Assreted Spicy Hot Pot’, a veritable who’s who of anal excretions. The production of this dish is a well-guarded secret, but many believe the process to be similar to that infamous scene in Tim and Eric’s Billion Dollar Movie:


 There are about one thousand other things on the menu here, but some other noteworthy items include:


Potato Stripes


Beef/Lamp20161218_153421.jpgNothing really special about these wontons other than the fact that they look delicious 

As is usually the case when ordering at these types of establishments, I’ll spend all of the allotted ordering time looking for weird menu items and funny typos and then the waiter will come and ask me what I want and I’ll have no idea. I could ask them to give me a few more minutes but then that’s a few more minutes I have to wait before I get some food. So I just ordered the items that I had taken menu pictures of: the Assreted Spicy Hot Pot, the Sichuan Style Potato Stripes, and the Sichuan Spicy Wontons.

After a short duration my table started to fill with plates:

20161218_160101.jpgPotato Stripes

I must admit that I was a little bummed on the Potato Stripes. I knew I should have ordered something different but I just didn’t know what. The dish just didn’t have that much flavor. Sure, it had the numbing spices that Szechuan food is known for, and a light amount of chili oil, but aside from that it just wasn’t the rich densely packed flavor that I have come to expect from Szechuan places. It would have been nice if it was a dish that acted as a counterbalance of sorts to the other rich dishes, perhaps something with fresh flavors and some acidity, but it was not that either.



As you can see the wontons were gloating and floating in their own greases, getting more pungent by the minute. Look inside:


The noodle wrapping is fully engrossed with the juices, however the meat is still crystallized with flavors that need at least 72+ hours to dissolve fully. The flavor was pretty excellent though. If you just put the whole thing in your mouth and gently squeeze the juice out and then swallow it whole it’s pretty much the best.


Asscretion comes anointed in flames

The hot pot really was the high point of the meal. The flavors were incredibly pungent. Nothing but greaze and numbing spices. It seriously was probably the most salt/fat/spice to actual food ratio I’ve ever had. I had to stop eating this shit several times and eat some greasy ass potato stripes as a palate cleanser, which at the time felt like eating raw kale compared to this beast. Just look at the cesspool of flavor that lurks at the bottom:


Unfortunately I could not finish the meal due to the high content of sodium that was making me super thirsty. The few times I’ve had leftovers in my life have always been times of feeling like the biggest little bitch in the world, but trust me readers, this thing was just too god damn salty. My lips were in definite danger of enchapment. This dish is best shared among a group where you have a bunch of other dishes to eat also.

Would I recommend this place? Hell yeah I would. The flavors are there but you probably just need to get different menu items to get the right balance.

Xtreme Food: Part 1-THE BURGER EDITION

What’s up readers? How’s it been living your boring life? Are you feeling depressed, lethargic, or sometimes nihilistic? If you said yes to any of the above symptoms, you probably are not fat enough and so it’s time for Dr. Feast to step in. Extreme conditions demand extreme responses:

By extreme responses I mean that it’s time to conjure up the 3 Part trifecta/pyramid/powermyd of Xtreme Reviews. Starting now at this very second will be the beginning of a 3 part series that explores the concept of ‘Xtreme’ and how much of a little tiny person you are for not manning up and eating the shit out of every meal. What does the word ‘Xtreme’ entail and what depth of utter depravity does it bring out in the human psyche/colon? To begin our adventure, we head where else but Antioch, CA:


As you may or may not be able to see in the above depicted map of the area, XTREME BURGER is where we are destined to dine. It is located just across the street from the infamous MUSCLE MAKER GRILL. It is also right across the street from ‘Golf Course Check Cashing’ which is of course where you go if you are living paycheck to paycheck and you need money for some new golfing shit asap. It’s also right next to Tailgater’s Sports Bar & Grill, which is definitely worthy of a Summoning The Feast visit. In essence, this small square of Antioch is a blindingly bright cultural sphere of influence for bozos everywhere. Not everyone appreciates such cultural gems though, such as this Google Review by ‘NewportMarlboro’:


Before I left on my voyage here my coworker warned me that Antioch is a ‘dangerous place’. I told him I’d never EVER tolerate his insubordination again and put him in a choke hold for a few seconds. But low and behold just when I reached a block away from the restaurant some lady was in a stretcher talking to the cops. Apparently some dude just bashed her over the head with a club, threw the club in the bushes and ran away. Seeing the bashed meat on her head was making me hungry for a big burger, so off I went.

I believe it was infant Christ that once said “If the food is hot, I’ll eat it, if the food is cold, I’ll eat it, but if it’s lukewarm I probably won’t eat it.” And so with those words of infantile wisdom we must enter the gates to the forbidden meat fruit that is XTREME BURGER:

20161026_191933.jpg Imagine coming here, just because you thought it looked good. Imagine how big of a fucking hole in your brain you would have to have to think that. Then realize that this is a business that actually makes money. 

This is what it looks like after you step inside:



They bought a TV and installed it on the wall to show pictures of menu items that are also on the menu. No sports, no movies, no Oprah, just menu items. 


Xtreme rustic sailboat decor 


Make that food bitch 

What should we order? Do they have food that is XTREME enough? Let’s take a look at and see what they got cooking up here:


Burger choices. XTREME burger doesn’t sound that extreme. 


Chili dog comes with ‘load’ of chili


Meat & Cheese Omelette comes with two thick ‘Baby Dolls’ slices of cheese. The ‘Baby Dolls’ contains a link to this fucking weird website about dolls:


I have no idea what these dolls have to do with cheese but I’m guessing it has something to do with finding you in a dark alleyway and non-consentingly sticking cheese in your asshole. Actually let’s just move to the physical menu where there are no links to any websites:


Grade A Slop Photography


Desserts get no slop photography 😦 




‘Extra Large Egg’

So yeah they don’t really have anything here that stood out to me as being ‘XTREME’. The Xtreme Burger is just a double cheeseburger with bacon. The Philly Cheese Steak Fries (pictures above with white slop desecration) sounded pretty Xtreme I guess. I ended up ordering the Xtreme Burger with BallPark Garlic Fries. For this review I brought along a newcomer, a young man with something to prove and a gut to fill. He ordered the Bacon Cheeseburger and the Philly Cheese Steak Fries like a true feaster. My assistant ordered the Double (Portion) Xtreme Favorite Breakfast. We waited patiently and then soon enough the Burger Gods took a fat shit on the table. Oh wait, it wasn’t the Burger Gods, it was Jesus:


He died for your obesity! 


Double (Portion) Xtreme Favorite Breakfast comes with a whole rack of jelly for toast


Philly Cheese Steak Fries


Xtreme Burger


Ballpark Garlic Fries

Let’s take a bite and see the lie of the land:




As you can see, the newcomer has no qualms with tearing a hole into a burger like a math nerd drills a hole into his brain. Nothing is exempt from desecration:


Defile and fucking Devour

The Xtreme Burger is pretty juicy. The cheese which emanated forth from between its buns covered everything within a 3 foot radius. It actually reminded me a lot of an In N Out burger, except with more cheese and some bacon. Seeing as how many are quick to praise In N Out like a small child praises their dad, that is pretty high praise. The Ballpark Garlic Fries were pretty weak though. They just were not crispy enough. And considering they were $4.00 they could have added a bit more than just a little bit of garlic and some mayonnaise substance.

My feasting visitor reported that his Bacon Cheeseburger was pretty good. I couldn’t tell if he truly enjoyed it or if he was really thinking “Fuck you it took an hour and a half to get here and you took me to the shittiest burger place I’ve been to in recent memory.” The Philly Cheese Steak Fries definitely were not greasy enough. If you compare their product picture with the meal that was actually presented then you will notice that there is a big contrast in actual and stated grease levels. I mean look at those green peppers. They should be cooked until they are barely recognizable so they slide down your throat easier. They are basically fresh! The fries at this place are pretty shitty.

The Double (Portion) Xtreme Favorite Breakfast was reported to be a suitable breakfast from the assistant. Not a whole lot to write home about with this one. Just look at it:


I fucking dare you not to be able to make that at home better than Xtreme Burger. And this is the Double Portion? If you are ordering a Single Portion of this shit and being content you are seriously struggling with some health issues that may or may not include you being a skeleton and being susceptible to the wind blowing your dusty ass away into the sunset.

Hopefully in the next part of the series we can get a little more XTREME!