I prefer walking to this diorama-sized diner that sits aside Bluefoot bar to ease some of my guilt about gorging bacon cheeseburgers. Beneath Hulk neon (in strength and color) drunken faces seem just a bit greener.
The size of a Manhattan apartment, Commonwealth’s prim rows of neatly organized ladles and grandmother-esque pedestals, offering homemade carrot cake, are as much of a draw as their menu. The best part is sharing the Wealth by grabbing a beer at Bluefoot while waiting for food (you can even eat it there too.)
Juicy burgers soften the varnished sheen of its sturdy bun (noticeably delicious), but sliders can sometimes sneak by with a downgrade in flavor as well as size. Although, they do make for a cheap companion ($3.25 for 2) when fries feature as entrée.
Curly or straight? Fry-dom for the people- it’s your choice. Blue cheese fries (curly) are almost like a bowl of noodles (utensils mandatory), but my favorite pick flames the sweet perfume of chili cheese (straight fry) - if only I could bottle the scent. Wings were a little big for my liking (aka “radioactive wings”), but my boyfriend, Bubba (a valid moniker since he grew up south of the Mason-Dixon Line), was thoroughly delighted with the abundance of meat and vinegar tartness mixed with the heat.
Amusing additions like the Texas football (Fritos, chili and cheese) and cinnamon toast sound even more appealing after a night of drinks at Bluefoot.
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