Famous Shameless Burger"I hope you left two twenties in that envelope with the bill!" Well you can hope as hard as you want, cause you're living in a vaguely Eastern-European sounding older waitress dreamworld.
On the pretense of taking a friendly trip to Europe, this cheeseburger and I could spirit away to France—slowly building a love fostered by the awe-inspiring beauty of this, the most romantic of nations. After a few months I would become so beholden to this burger that the world outside our love would no longer hold any connection to me. Devastated family members (and scores of jilted lovers who have turned to self mutilation to deal with losing me) would call Canadian authorities asking about my whereabouts. The cheeseburger and I would never be found and, our trip coinciding with fatal Parisian race riots, I would be declared missing, presumed dead.
And when this incredible love affair was about to reach its end; when me and the cheeseburger are on a flight home; when I'm about to take that final bite and draw our relationship towards its natural denouement (cause it is still a cheeseburger, and I would be eating it slowly during the trip). When it seems we have given each other all there is to give, the cheeseburger could turn to me and say "I never told you, I'm a tycoon, and I've decided to leave you all my millions." All these improbable things could happen, and you still couldn't get me to leave a fucking 75% tip.
I'll admit that with the European love affair, this burger could be deserving of a large tip. However, in the classical setting it was served in... not quite.
The Famous Shameless is most akin to the type of burger you may find at a decent burger stand (i.e. at a park or on a wharf somewhere). The hand-made patty is a little overcooked, though I suppose not much more so than your average bar burger. Copious amounts of well melted cheese, and a decent mix of mayo, mustard and special sauce save what may have been an otherwise so-so affair.
The bun falls somewhere in the middle between "dry, crumbly and infuriating" and "soft and complimentary". The bacon and fried onions were more ineffectual than they could have been; the onions not particularly sweet, and the bacon closer to jerky (texturally speaking). Like its neighbour in style, the thick broiled burger stand burger, Redd's delivers a burger that will satisfy your cravings. None of the elements taste bad, but they could all taste a little bit better.
VERDICT: Gets the job done, but won't make you fall in love.