It seems that after two years roving the mean streets of Boston as food truck Go Fish!, mobile eats mastermind Brother Trucker has decided that burgers are where it’s at. Thus, their transformation into the brand new teeth-baring, bacon-ketchup-toting, burger truck that is Bone Daddy's Burgers — currently on the loose, and possibly heading your way. That’s right, we said Bacon. Flavored. Ketchup.
Bone Daddy's Burgers has issued a challenge to health-conscious, light-lunching diners city-wide — to which we scoffed “bring it on.” But herein lies the problem: the siren song of the Jack Dog , a fearsome 100% beef hot dog roughly the size of a child’s forearm. A very large child’s forearm. This monster comes wrapped in applewood-smoked bacon, deep-fried, slathered with cheddar cheese, and topped with a caramelized onion, roasted garlic, and jalapeno relish. You want it, bad. But are you man enough to take this dog down a mere few hours after breakfast? (You are, we assure you.) To psych you up, we’ve laid out the five stages you must successfully hurdle before your turn at the counter. Familiarize yourself accordingly.
Pshh, you don’t want the Jack Dog! You are a paragon of lunch purity, swearing by the power of dry romaine lettuce and the occasional crouton. Hot dogs are for kids anyway. You’re already here, though, and it really would be a shame… No. You’ll have the quinoa and black bean burger.
It appears the quinoa burger comes sans bacon. Where is the bacon wrapped quinoa? You decide that you hate quinoa and send it dirty looks from your place in the line. How does one even pronounce quinoa, you wonder?
You’ll run an extra mile at the gym later, and eat fruit or something, you tell yourself as you watch self-satisfied customers walk away, Jack Dogs clutched in their greasy hands. Maybe you’ll kind of awkwardly gallop to the T stop instead of walking? The lavender lemonade they’ve got on their beverage menu counts as a plant, obviously. The three people in front of you all just ordered Jack Dogs and are looking very pleased with themselves. Could you be like these people?
Your lack of lunchtime cojones is starting to bum you out. You can smell the sweet, caramel-y, crispy bacon from your spot in a line that is starting to feel interminable and the aroma floods you with nostalgia for the bygone days of your childhood, when you would have crushed this thing without hesitation. You’d never even heard of quinoa back then.
Screw it. You will absolutely go back to work smelling faintly of garlicky relish — and you might even get some of it on your shirt — but these are sacrifices you have already decided to make. You stride proudly up to that counter — from behind which heavy metal blasts, bolstering your confidence — and announce to all who give a damn that you shall indeed have one Jack Dog. With a side of bacon salt and truffle fries, because you have no fear! It arrives in all its messy, succulent glory, and you take woozy pride in the knowledge that you have joined the ranks of the Bone Daddy Burger warriors. Well done, Grasshopper.