We’ve all got busy lives and chances are, you’ve budgeted about 25 seconds for “reading” this article so I’ll just cut right to the chase. If you want the essence of this review without expending the energy to actually read the whole thing, no problem. I get it. Look no further. Here goes.
Snarfburger: A Twinge Above Mediocre. Absolutely nothing special about this place except for the pleasantly relaxed and shaded seating out front. The onion rings are actually quite good. Thanks for reading.
Read on for the whole impressionistic experiential exploit:
I went to Snarfburger for lunch on one of those quiet summer afternoons where clouds grazing the ground dampen sound and hold time still. It smelled like grass clippings and you could hear the din of music piping from outdoor all-day BBQ’s in the college neighborhood of Arapahoe and 20th. Snarfburger’s umbrella-ed street corner patio seemed like the place to laze away an hour. A sentiment which Snarfburger only partially did its part to uphold.
Snarfburger, I have to admit, holds itself to high standards in my mind because of its obvious association with Snarf’s- the simple, no flairs yet excellent local sandwich chain. SB earned its first points with its simple and very limited “classic hamburger stand” type menu. Hotdogs, hamburgers, a veggie burger, fries, milkshakes and “concrete”: a milkshake so thick it won’t dump out if you turn it upside down. Presumably. And that’s it! I can jive with simplicity. I got a hamburger in a lettuce wrap with bacon and fries. My dad, who I was with, got a double pattied burger with onion rings.
The hole in the wall had a kind of “school’s out for summer”…. in Indiana suburbia… vibe. The same lack of attention to detail, the same innocent wholesome Americana disregard. And the same young, Arian, uninspired, matter-of-fact staff.
We took a seat on the uncleaned park bench picnic tables out front and wallowed in the palpable din of a dispassioned day off. Until one of the Snarfingtons mosied outside and plopped a brown paper bag down in front of us (ostensibly filled with our food), turned around and returned to his grease den.
Needless to say, presentation was borderline pathetic. Unfurling the wax paper, my lettuce wrap immediately disintegrated into a hamburger salad which, once I gave into the effects of gravity on a mayo-lubricated bun-less fiasco and resigned to the usage of a plastic fork, I at least benefitted from the perceived calorie reduction of a meal that no longer in any way resembled a hamburger.
While the forces of entropy were rebelliously acting upon my burger and spinning me off into barely controlled chaos however, my dad was thoroughly and peacefully enjoying his much more contained, mess-free and actually quite delicious and satisfying burger. The onion rings and fries were both very good- I have to give them that.
After an extensive cleaning sessions and a visit to the underground dungeon of a bathroom, which brought me back to my days spent in a prison cell during the Spanish Inquisition, we topped off our meal with an ice cream blizzard enshrouded with all five of their possible toppings and, full and sleepy, walked through Arapahoe’s construction and into its neighborhoods to get swallowed up again in the meandering stillness of a Goss Grove summertime.