Welcome to Hell

Hot off an Obama/Biden visit, what better day to share my opinion of Virginia’s (now-presidential) burger joint:

If you’re not in the mood for chicken, Ray’s Hell Burger is the cheap-eats NOVA alternative for BIG, manly portions of food. Which is what you’ll find inside: a lot of men, eating huge, dripping, giant, unladylike burgers. What you won’t find are french fries or beer, two things we were craving the day of our visit. The root beer on tap was delicious as was the potato alternative (bagged chips), but—unlike Patten, who believes this to be the best burger in the area—I have no desire to return. The process of putting your mouth over a puffy bun filled with a 10 oz juicy patty and a slippery mound of grilled thick-cut red onions is painful and embarrassing. And while the beef (which is never frozen) and condiments (which yes, are fresh) make for a delicious bite, I can hardly enjoy the flavor because I have juices running down my chin, hands, wrists—a loose onion dangling out my mouth. This is not Carl’s Junior sexy. This is hell.