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Some of the best french fries in Portland are served crinkle-cut and salty in a crumpled paper bag, in a rain-slicked parking lot, by two guys who seem as if they're having the time of their lives. Those fries have a thin layer of variable crispness determined by the curve of the crinkles, where house seasoning collects and dissolves into the lightly oily surface. You do not need ketchup.
Stupidly, I ask about spaghetti instead. I'd seen a sign in the window.
"Spaghetti?" says Stoopid Burger's "co-CEO," Danny Moore, at the food cart's window. "We've never served that. We were just helping out the community." Turns out he and co-owner John Hunt were helping promote their friend's food cart. They also do free advertising for a nearby salon. "But you seem like a burger expert," he tells me. "I'm going to guess you're a Luni guy."
The man knows his customer. The Luni Burger ($8.50) is a 6-inch-thick conflagration of habanero, jalapeño, bacon, blue cheese, grilled onions, tomato, pickle and some mayo-based secret sauce they call "stoopid." It's a flavor-packed, fatty, salty mess of goop and spice, as is everything here. A friend who accompanied me on my first visit wrote the next day to say she'd found stray sauce on her jacket, scarf and purse. She then vowed to go back for more.
"More" is pretty much
a guiding philosophy. The namesake Stupid Burger ($9.75) boasts a
wildly diversified portfolio of protein, stacking grass-fed beef from
New Seasons across the street with bacon, ham, a hot link and an egg.
The Crazy Burger ($9.50) heaps on onion rings and sauteed mushrooms. The
burger's wrapping is of no help. Your hands are sopping wet, and you
must dry your fingers on the french fries, using the salt. These french
fries are perfect. And these burgers are ridiculous. I can't believe I
keep eating them sober.
- Order this: Stupid Burger or Luni Burger, plus fries.
EAT: Stoopid Burger, 3441 N Vancouver Ave., 971-801-4180. 11 am-11 pm Tuesday-Saturday.
WWeek 2015