"I been here 17 years," one employee told me as I bought a chocolate shake one night for the road.
"That's a long time," I laughed back, impressed. "You must like it."
Troy Fields
Takes you back: junior burger and a Frito pie.
Location Info
Details
281-481-8606. Hours: 10 a.m. to 9 p.m. Mondays through Fridays, 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. Saturdays.
Mini burger: $0.99
Special sauce burger: $3.24
Frito pie: $2.99
Tater tots: $1.29
Chopped barbecue sandwich: $3.49
Chicken fried steak sandwich: $3.89
Junior burger combo: $4.79
Medium shake: $2.49
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She chuckled and threw a glance at Craddock, saying, "That's cause I do what I want here." Craddock just smiled and turned back to his drive-through window to hand over a white paper sack to his next customer.
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During the day, C&D isn't the sleepy semi-living room it is by night. At lunch, it's bustling and busy, with nearly every oil-clothed table filled, and a line of folks waiting to take their sack of burgers to go. On a recent afternoon, I counted four UPS trucks lined up next to C&D's parking lot sign that reads simply: "2 burgers 2 fries $7.49." Across the parking lot from them were two ambulances, an HPD cruiser and a fire department's Crown Vic.
Inside, a team of UPS drivers had taken over the Touchdown Club Luncheon table, where they were busy polishing off a table heaped high with burgers. Ditto the cops at the back, the volunteer firemen up front and nearly every other person in C&D. Burgers are the bread and butter here.
Despite this, I ordered a chicken-fried steak sandwich and a special sauce burger to deviate a little, seeing if I was missing something even more special than those thin, mustard-topped burgers. It turns out that the "special sauce" is just barbecue sauce from a bottle, so the answer was no. And the chicken-fried steak sandwich was an unappetizing gray color inside, with a gummy breading that tasted oddly of fish. So that was a resounding no, too.
I also ordered a strawberry shake and was reminded of why I always stick with chocolate. Here at C&D, the thick and creamy chocolate shakes taste like — to quote my dining companion — "someone got happy with the Hershey's chocolate syrup back there." The strawberry, sadly, tastes only of artificial sweetener and strawberry flavoring.
I wasn't unhappy with the tater tots and fries, at least. The fries have that soft yet mostly inoffensive taste of pureed potato; they're certainly not hand-cut, and they've clearly been frozen. Yet they reminded me of the old Catfish King hushpuppies with their fine, soft texture and slightly crisp exterior. The tater tots pack more potato punch, and are more fun to drag through a pool of ketchup, too.
Because my lunch had been fairly substandard, I went back to C&D with a friend that night to try to revive the affection I'd felt for it on previous visits. A junior cheeseburger put everything right again, and my affections were further bolstered by a chopped barbecue sandwich heaped high with sweet shreds of beef under a chase of pickles and onions.
"This reminds me of the barbecue sandwiches we used to make at family reunions," I beamed across the table at my dining companion. And there was that old rush of nostalgia again, which I'm willing to admit might be primarily responsible for my affinity for C&D Burger Shoppe. But as we left later that night and got into the car, I was relieved to find I wasn't alone.
"I feel like we should be turning on the AM radio," sighed my friend. "That was an awesome meal."
katharine.shilcutt@houstonpress.com