Their griddled cheeseburgers — giant, two-hander sandwiches with tons of fixings — are knockouts. They’re given a heavy coat of salt, pepper and some punchy garlicky dry seasoning. The french fries are fantastic, tall, salty columns that stay standing when swiped through condiments.
The chicken-fried steak sandwich is a simple pleasure with pickle slices, very fresh tomato, lettuce and onion under the flash-crunch of breaded, fork-tender steak. There’s some mayonnaise on the top bun, a big soft puffy disc, and that’s it.
Porky’s is one of those rare species of family-owned fast food joints that keeps their burger toppings as fresh as the beef. Things you won’t find on a Porky’s sandwich: Rusty-ended lettuce bits or tomatoes as basic and flavorless as printer paper, and you absolutely won’t find buns that taste like a cup of sand.
There’s time spent on construction here: Caramelized beef juices run into the lettuce-onion-pickles mix, melding into a new condiment. It’s stacked neatly and knife-ready between the bun. They don’t drop defunct lettuce and red onion that’s so potent it stings in a Styrofoam package. You don’t need to build your own burger here; they’ve figured out what you want.