As you may have noticed, we live in hell.
Coherent belief systems and shared reality have crumbled to dust as authoritarian reactionaries and internet brain rot dictate each increasingly stupid day. Call it hypernormalization. Call it late capitalism. Call it whatever you want, but one benevolent signifier still manages to cut across sociopolitical divides like a red '68 Camaro merging along Route 66: a recommendation from outrageous TV food dude Guy Fieri.
Fieri always operated as the all-American populist indulger to Anthony Bourdain's world-weary-yet-globetrotting literary pursuer of flavors and ideas. Bourdain may've asked eaters to think; Guy simply tells them where to scarf.
That egalitarian approach has created a vast spiderweb of real-world impact felt by almost 1,300 small businesses featured on Diners, Drive-ins and Dives. Perhaps nobody in history has provided more free PR to independent restaurants across this country than Fieri, whose spikey-haired stamp of approval sparks economic boosts that last for years after a DDD segment airs. I remember once peeking over the counter at Duluth's Northern Waters Smokehaus and noticing a calendar day marked with "DDD RERUN: GET READY." And these joints are legit! In Minnesota alone, Guy has ventured to Al's Breakfast, Emily's Lebanese Deli, Gordy's Hi-Hat, and Holy Land, among many others.
Guy officiates gay weddings. Guy helped raise over $20 million for struggling restaurants during COVID-19. Guy makes fun memes 'n' goofs online. Guy is forgiven for never opening his chicken restaurant at Mall of America.
So why would Guy lend his good name to dog-food-grade gas station slop? The short answer is likely licensing money from Holiday Stationstores, where a "Flavortown-inspired" roster of hot grab-'n'-go foodstuffs debuted earlier this month. The menu is available at Holiday and Circle K locations in Minnesota, Alaska, Idaho, Michigan, Montana, North Dakota, South Dakota, Washington, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. “Flavortown is as much a lifestyle as it is a place so when it comes to great food and flavor, it’s all about finding it wherever you are,” Fieri explains via press release.
Over the past two days, we sampled every Flavortown item available to us at the Nicollet & Diamond Lake Holiday (see the complete menu below).
The results? Borderline inedible. Amid a dizzying list of ingredients, the packaging informed us that each product had been frozen ahead of its journey from California-based manufacturer/distributor Golden West Food Group to the gas station microwave.
And if the full-throated defense of Guy above didn't convince you, we'll double-down here on not being snobs who thumb our noses at convenience store food: I'm a casual Kwik Trip fan; Em's a Wawa fanatic.
In any event, this shit truly sucks. Trashy gimmick food is often fun, but these lifeless sacks of slop couldn't even deliver on the implicit promise of being wild, Guy-style creations; putting mac 'n' cheese on a burger proved to be the lone stroke inventiveness. Here's every bit of sad $6 garbage I stuffed into my pathetic mouth, rated by our freshly concocted 1-10 Frosted Tips system. (Join Racket for $1 to crowdfund my Pepto-Bismol expenses.)
Denver Omelet Sandwich
Look at that soaked meat! Yeesh! Beyond sweating its butt off, the rubbery ham slices mostly taste like sugar, though my Siberian huskies didn't seem to mind. The dry, cracking bun remembers its time in the freezer well. And as for that egg product? Resembling wet foam, it fails to even clear the hotel breakfast bar hurdle, which ain't what you'd describe as "high." The specks of veggies are too waterlogged to register any flavor. For a couple more bucks you can get Bloomington's best breakfast sandwich over at Scramblin' Egg. For the love of god, do that instead.
Rating: 1.5 out of 10 Frosted Tips
Sweet Heat Fried Chicken & Waffle Sandwich
Mush, mush, mush. No, I'm not leading my disobedient, ham-enjoying dogs in a sled race. I'm describing this textureless waffle. It's like a maple-y toothpaste clinging for dear life to the thin and dry chicken patty, one you've encountered before in grade schools and hospitals. (That said: I was surprised by the substantial kick of spice the chicken provided.) It's hard to even detect the cheese, and the lack of thought that dings the whole Flavortown menu is apparent—where are the Donkey Sauces or Donkey Sauce-adjacent proprietary dips?
Rating: 3 of 10 Frosted Tips
Mac 'n' Cheese Burger
"Weird stank on patty," read my scribbled notes. That hard-to-distinguish stank is about the flavor coming off this burger. It's almost remarkable how this many fatty, cheesy parts complete a cardboard-tasting whole. The burger is bottom-rung, a grey and mealy disc that never stood a chance. And that mac 'n' cheese? A grainy, gluey additional layer of carbs squished under a stale bun. To repeat my sauce critique: This is a drrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry guy, begging for any juiciness and/or flavor. For less money (!) you can get yourself the fresh and classic Lion's Tap burger.
Rating: 2 out of 10 Frosted Tips
Chicken Royale
What are we even doing here? This (also weirdly stanky) thing looks like Lord Voldemort's ass cheek. We heartily recommend Burnt Chicken (which recently relocated to St. Paul) instead.
Rating: 3.5 out of 10 Frosted Tips
Cheeseburger Burrito
Remarkably, the french fries inside this gummy tortilla were hard and undercooked. I was certain they'd be reduced to mush, yet somehow the Flavortown menu fucked up in an unexpected way. Points for that? Anyway, this is a hot wet sock filled with ground beef and salt. Go to Brito's. Go to Lito's. Go running and screaming away from Flavortown, where spiteful little abominations are waiting under the heat lamp next to the windshield fluid.
Rating: 2 out of 10 Frosted Tips
