The Six
The softest we'll go. A brined chicken thigh smashed on the flat-top, brioche bun, just enough bronze to keep its self-respect. For the people who aren't ready yet.
The board
Read it like a scorecard. The number is the promise — we won't serve anything under a six.
The softest we'll go. A brined chicken thigh smashed on the flat-top, brioche bun, just enough bronze to keep its self-respect. For the people who aren't ready yet.
A single smashed patty pressed thin enough to lace, scraped off the flat-top with a brittle bronze edge, American cheese melted into the cracks, pickles, onion, house sauce on a griddled potato bun.
Two patties smashed so hard the crust crackles, stacked with double cheese and raw white onion, the kind of char your dentist warns you about and we wear as a badge.
Our maximum sear. A single patty pressed to the point of no return, scraped so hard the edges shatter on contact. American cheese, pickles, raw onion. The whole point.
A smashed mushroom patty for the people who don't eat beef but still want the Maillard reaction. Griddled brioche, house sauce, crispy shallots.
Theo's personal order. Double smash, extra scrape time, jalapeño relish, American cheese, no pickles. Named after the brother who wants every patty fractured.
Crinkle-cut, fried twice, salted hard. The only thing on the board with a crust index of zero and we're fine with that.
Thick-cut onion rings battered and smashed flat on the griddle so the edges lace. Served with house sauce.
Shredded cabbage and carrot in a vinegar-forward dressing with charred scallion oil. Cuts through the grease.
House-squeezed lemonade. No sugar syrups, no shortcuts. Tart enough to reset your palate between bites.
Portland-roasted cold brew on tap. Dark, unsweetened, and strong enough to keep you in line till midnight.
Local craft root beer with a scoop of vanilla. The only sweet thing on the menu and it earns its spot.
Know what you want? Order it crusted.
Order pickup