My years spent criss-crossing the USA in a semi-truck gave me the opportunity to grab grub from many different types of eating joints. Perhaps the weirdest eating experience was at the fancy Italian restaurant where my “internal sensors” commenced clamoring “DANGER” the moment I sat down to dine.
My situational awareness has been honed by years of living in the rougher part of life that the blue-collar working-poor folks experience so often while the elites and their lackeys are able to avoid via wealth and societal position.
Observing the other diners (I was the only solo diner) and their garb I knew I was out of my realm but… that was not nearly enough to set off my internal alarms.
The joint had a door man and I talked to him outside after I left. He did not respond directly to my questions but he did hint around. Yes, my prior determination arrived at while eating was a reality. The place was Mafia owned and the clientèle included made-men, their guests and the general public who received gratification by being in the presence of Mob figures.
However, this revue is for a very small firm with but one outlet and it is extremely unlikely you will ever rub shoulders there with a member of La Costa Nostra.
208 W McDaniel St Springfield, MO
Whisler’s is representative of a multitude of small, independent hamburger joints across the USA. My experiences at these favorite places of mine since they are absent the monolithic corporate influence I despise for many damn good reasons. Perhaps the biggest differentiating factor will be the few small independents who cut costs by using sub-par ground up dead cow that has chunks and hunks of bone and gristle.
It is possible, I suppose, for a firm to receive a bad batch of meat from their supplier and that the yucky infested meat I had eaten was a rare event.
Okay, below is the review for Whisler’s I left at the Yelp Web site: Yelp Whisler’s Review
By golly howdy ho, folks. Before I commence babbling I shall point out the 3rd star of 5 I selected. Middle of the road. Smack-dab in the middle and that is indicative of my one trek to gobble down a bag of burgers.
Credit is due for truth in advertising. I forked over the dough and, after a short wait, received a paper bag with 5 burgers inside crying out to be devoured. And that is what I did.
There was nothing to detract from my repast. No unwanted chunks of gristle or other annoyances occasionally confronting the eater of ground up dead cow. That is a plus for Whisler’s.
No negatives leaped to the forefront to make me regret for trying the burgers. However, there was nothing about the burgers to differentiate the critters from numerous other burgers chewed upon at a multitude of other locales.
The price was neither a positive nor a negative.
Are you commencing comprehending my middle-of-the-road rating? You are? Great!!!
I have not made a trip to Whisler’s after that first one. Perhaps if it was closer to my typical cross-town trek routes I would consider a stop to grab and haul their comestibles back to my shanty and dig in.
As an aged, withered Disgruntled Old Coot I typically shun the younguns’ hot spots and other venues that makes that “square” part of the burgh a swinging scene for the cool kids. If I did hang out there the Whisler’s grub would surely be at least an occasional attractant. More-so if some bodacious babe enamored with my Adonis-like physique was willing to pay for the vittles. Oh yeah!!!
My official Old Coot Recommendation is………. (pause to build suspense)……..
If in the area stop there. Buy. Eat. Burp and/or belch your contentment. Maybe buy an extra burger and hand it to a skinny person who looks famished. Make somebody’s day or evening or night or whatever time you are there.
However, unless the Whisler’s output sends you into near-uncontrollable paroxysms of culinary delight, the trip just to get their fare if it is anything more than a few minutes easy drive is not worth the trip.
Okay, folks, the ball is in your court. It is up to you to make the final determination.
Have a nice much experience wherever you munch and whatever you chomp upon.