Editor’s note: This is the beginning of an ongoing series recounting my collisions with 6Smith’s Fat Pants Friday creations. With all the press 6Smith is getting for their patio, their Mother’s Day brunch, and their menu, I think it’s also important to remind everyone that you can also leave here with three different-colored sauces on your face.
My wife posted this picture to my Facebook wall Thursday and joked about how she and her sister mirror this almost completely.
I say “almost completely” because she gave me a live demonstration at 6Smith. This is the risk you take: You need to come hungry on Fat Pants Friday, which means you have to walk certain tightropes.
ON THE TABLE
Name: The name of this one wasn’t posted on its Facebook page. I’m retroactively naming this burger “Couples Therapy.”
Height: About eight inches, but I didn’t bring a tape measure.
Weight: Two pounds? I didn’t bring a food scale, either.
Top to Bottom: Bun, bleu cheese, lettuce, onions, egg, bacon, cheese, burger, buffalo sauce, fried chicken breast, cheese, burger, bun. Seriously, the only thing missing was the Double Dare flag.
How healthy is it?: I don’t care if it was fried: Chicken is chicken and chicken is protein and protein is healthy. Also, it came with asparagus. It was probably under 100 calories.
Environmental impact: It was too busy for anyone to notice what I was eating (more on this in a moment).
AT THE TABLE
One hour earlier: If it was anything like my typical afternoon, I was standing outside next to a pile of dog crap for 10 minutes because I can never get the disposal bags open. At least it was nice out.
Who’s with me? The missus came in all her blue-eyed, red-nailed, volcanically hangry glory. With 6Smith ambushed by Wayzata Bay-walkers, uncharacteristically slow service meant my wife had time to ignite three or four mini-fights between sit-down and chew-up (more on this in a moment).
What’s in that glass?: Oskar Blues Momma’s Little Yella Pils, and I needed it.
Play-by-Play: A foursome of duck wantons preceded our burgers’ arrival, three of which my wife eliminated.
The buffalo chicken breasts were bone-in and had to be eaten separately. For my heat-sensitive wife, it meant passing the cluck over to me. Without it, my wife cleaned her plate. It was an awe-striking exhibition. I wish I could’ve recorded it. It was one of those things that make me happy I married her.
With her piece of chicken, however, I was filled to capacity with about a fourth of my burger left. I like to think I’d have crushed it without the extra, but we’re not in that world. That’s not to take anything from what my wife accomplished: Picture that burger without the chicken, and it’s still pretty damn imposing.
Grade: This was my favorite Fat Pants to date. It had everything I could have hoped for on a single plate. I’d gladly take a bucket of that chicken, or the bacon for that matter.
Addendum: The owner saw my wife’s frustration during the wait and personally apologized, even taking $15 off our bill. Sudden spikes in traffic happen, but one thing restaurants can control is response. This was an example of business done right.