Chris. Tommy. Jim. Victor. Manny.
Chris’ sign is here rather than P&G because I have a disease called representationitis.
If you grew up in the San Gabriel Valley then your neighborhood had a local burger joint named after a fat uncle from Crete.
My gyro!
My approach to these greasy spoons (wait, that IS grease…right?) has always been to eat at the one nearest you. For us, that’s Covina’s P&G Super Burger on Citrus.
Now let me just come out and say it because I can’t restrain myself for much longer: these mofux straight charged me $.50 for a second 1 oz container of salsa. My face turned redder than their watered down Tapatio. I wouldn’t have been so upset if their salsa wasn’t so…damned…good!
With that said, the primary problem here is at the register. The women who know most about the menu knows least about the English--and that’s not a xenophobic, nativistic diss either. It’s just the sober analysis of a former long-term substitute instructor for BUSD Adult Ed ESL 1-2 who had an impossible time adding bacon to a cheeseburger, nahmean. I’d recreate a conversation below but I never know what in the hell any of them are saying–and that’s not a xenophobic, nativistic diss either. It’s just the sober analysis of a former long-term substitute instructor for BUSD Adult Ed ESL 1-2 who had a hard time adding bacon to a cheeseburger, nahmean.
Peep game, I will not post pictures of their food. You’ve seen a $3.00 hamburger before, right? Same thang, right here. Chili-fries, onion rings, pastrami…everything an artery needs to call it quits can be had here…or at Chris’, Victor’s, Jim’s…ad nauseum.
So, if you’re in the neighborhood and craving a burger….drive another two miles to IN N OUT on Grand.
Big Brown Dad