Soda Jerks



Soda Jerks is pretty much what you get when Red Robins has an illegitimate lovechild in a threesome with a carnie and an alcoholic.

The menu is absolutely massive and includes wonderful things like a shotgun of Old Milwaukee (can is pre-punched), alcoholic milkshakes and a triple-burger time challenge.

Sounds like fun.



In case you were wondering what it looked like inside.

We started with the fried pickles and milkshakes. The milkshakes were superb. I’m not usually a fan of creamy drinks, but this was definitely an exception. They didn’t do anything crazy, just a good blend of ice cream, milk and syrup. To sweeten the deal, you have the option to add shots of hard liquor to your creamy confection.


How do you take an attractive picture of a milkshake?

Now I’m no expert, but my understanding of fried pickles is that you fry slices of pickles to maintain a good pickle to batter ratio, and to ensure that the pickle gets to dry out a bit while frying. We were served thick spears of pickle, dripping with grease and gushing with pickle juice. Phallic imagery aside, they were pretty disgusting. While I’ll never know for sure, it feels like they weren’t drained after being fried.


Served with mayo because we’re disgusting.

Because we ordered when we were starving (bad fucking idea), we also got the onion ring poutine. This remained mostly uneaten, but I’m certain that it tastes exactly like street vendor onion rings, high-school cafeteria gravy and Costco cheese curds, which, honestly, make for a pretty great poutine.


Not enough fried food.

Alright, onto the burgers.

In theory, this is a great idea (for the restaurant).

The customer gets to participate in the creation of their meal, it’s different, and there won’t be any complaints as you get exactly what you ask for.

Hell, you even get the customer to fill out the ticket for you.

Now here’s the problem.

Your average diner has NO FUCKING CLUE what they actually want in a burger.


Case in point.

This isn’t an issue with typical burger toppings like lettuce and bacon, but once you start adding things like ice cream, Kraft Dinner and mini donuts onto the list of burger toppings, you give the average customer way too much choice. In the interest of making something Instagram/Snapchat worthy, your customer will also create something that’s absolutely fucking disgusting.

Turns out Hot/Sweet Chili sauce, banana peppers, jalapenos, jalapeno jack and buffalo onion rings all sort of taste like the same thing. I ended up with a burger that tasted like an entire fucking bottle of Franks Red Hot. To be fair, the individual ingredients were great, I’m just an idiot.

My friend, with a bit more experience in building his own burger (and considerably more common sense), actually ended up with something edible.


An exercise in restraint.

I had a bag of Doritos for a side, which I did not attempt to eat. If you’re going to serve me something, at least pretend you didn’t buy it in bulk at Costco.

Although we were both uncomfortably full at this point, we ordered dessert and justified it by saying I’d write a blog about it.

Cue the mini donuts and chocolate covered bacon.

The donuts were quite plain and were dusted in cinnamon sugar. The taste was virtually identical to the donuts you would normally get at some sort of carnival or fair, although the texture was closer to that of a cake donut.


About as overpriced as carnival donuts too.

Chocolate covered bacon was exactly that. Dark chocolate and a slice of bacon. To be honest, I’m not a fan of the dark chocolate and would have preferred something with more sugar (or just candied bacon).


Take note of the grease stains on the glass.


In the end, the food wasn’t amazing and is a bit pricey.

However, they do have quite a few things that make them worth a visit, namely alcoholic milkshakes and carnie food.

So if you want to get wasted and vomit mini donuts and corndogs, but don’t want to go to an actual festival, Soda Jerks is the place for you.


Soda Jerks Menu, Reviews, Photos, Location and Info - Zomato


Summer Flings and a Really Fuckin’ Good Burger


It’s still tax season.

My life is still spent either filing taxes, or on the way to/from filing taxes, but on the bright side, I had the best burger of my life.

So I took a night off and went out for dinner with some other tax-grunts to bitch about our lives.

Having forgotten that it was Thursday (and the beginning of the long weekend for normal people), our intended destination of Woodwork was booked full, and our backup (Rostizado) didn’t have any tables either.

Oh, and by the way, Rostizado, go fuck yourself.

“We reserve only for groups of 8+”

Yeah, except for the fact that once we got there, you told us about your piece of shit app that makes reservations for groups of less than fucking eight.

Seriously. I’m not going to clog my phone up with some spyware laden turd just so I can get a table at your stupid restaurant.

Fuck youuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Fuck youuuuuuuuuuuuuuu


We roamed around the Edmonton downtown area, looking for somewhere to eat and ended up at:


The decor was kind of barn-chic, and the tables/chairs looked like they were hotel surplus.

The building was one of those places where you’re not sure whether it’s a really fucking old building refurbished to look new, or a brand new building that was artfully sandblasted to look old, but to be honest, I don’t really care.

I ordered this:

So many words...

So many words…


With a side of home-made potato chips, and a Steigl Radler (pronounced shtee-gul, thanks random waitress).

It came out looking like this:

I didn't clean the sauce stain, sue me.

I didn’t clean the sauce stain, sue me.

I could come up with a paragraph or two talking about how the chipotle in the cheese was accented by the light note of the vanilla in the bacon, and how you could taste the free-ranged, grass-fed glory of the beef, but I’m not, because that’s stupid.

The burger wasn’t good because of the tiny little notes added on, the burger’s good because the key ingredients work well with each other, and this is something I think that many restaurants in this city could learn from.

The bun was crisp on the outside and soft on the inside. The patty was large, juicy and made of high quality meat. The sauces were creamy, savoury and greasy, and the onions were tangy, sweet, and tied the entire thing together.

You would imagine that a large hunk of meat, with cheese, bacon and cream-based sauces would be cloying and greasy, but the sweetness of the onions cut through the grease perfectly and left you wanting more.

And what of the side?

Well, it was kind of mediocre. The chips were more.. crumbly, than crunchy, and were under-seasoned.

But after a burger with that kind of calorical impact, you’re probably not going to need the side.

I just thought we needed a picture here.

I just thought we needed a picture here.

The Good

  • The burger, holy shit, the motherfucking burger.
  • Beer is sorta cheap
  • Relaxed atmosphere

The Bad

  • The sides are mediocre
  • It’s only here for a month

The Ugly

  • The chairs?

The bittersweet truth is that the Messy Bessy is only here for a month.

Like that leggy, freckled blonde girl from tennis camp that one year, she’ll leave a mark on your soul that will never truly leave you.

You can try new things.

You can try to forget about her.

You can even accept it and move on in in your life.

But there will always be some little thing that will catch you off guard.

A fleeting glimpse of color from someone’s scarf on the street, because it happened to be the same shade of blue as her eyes.

The smell of blistex, because she said her lips were always dry.

And then.

Just for a moment or two.

You’ll remember.

You’ll remember what was and what could have been.

You’ll remember what you had lost.

And you’ll know that given the chance to do it all again, you wouldn’t change a single thing.



It’s a good burger.

Go try it out.

You’ll never look at caramelized onions the same way again.

Be still my heart.

Be still, my beating heart.

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A not-so-religious experience.


The Lord answered, “Bring me a heifer three years old, a she-goat, three years old, a ram three years old, a turtle dove and a young pigeon… and a really fuckin’ greasy cheeseburger”

– Genesis 15:9

So The Burger’s Priest is new in town, and people are understandably caught up in the trendy marketing and weird-ass name of this strange new burger joint.

Why is it called The Burger’s Priest…?

Do they sprinkle holy water on the buns?

Do they put the fear of hell into the hearts of sinners and disbelievers?

Do they offer free burgers to pre-teen boys in exchange for fellatio?

As it turns out, they don’t do any of the above. Besides some preachy seminars at the bottom of the website and a Genesis verse printed on the wall, this was just a normal burger joint.

Said Genesis verse. Complete with 5 degree, completely intentional camera tilt.

Said Genesis verse. Complete with 5 degree, completely intentional camera tilt.

Ah right, this is a restaurant review.

So the restaurant itself is very tastefully decorated. Nice usage of dark ceiling tiles, retro lighting and a metric fuckton of stainless steel.



It was so nicely decorated that it was almost hard to notice the 700 people stuffed inside.

Seriously. The place was PACKED.

No doubt people from the surrounding office buildings heard about the hype and decided to check it out. Take my word on this one, unless you’re willing to wait 50 minutes in a tiny restaurant next to a sweltering grill, wait a month until the commotion has died down, then go.

And the actual food?

I had “What’s Right”, or in normal-people speak, the double cheeseburger combo with a cookie, canned pop and chili cheese fries. This came to $17 something dollars before tip.

Well, to be honest, the burger was pretty GOD-damned good. You could tell that the produce was fresh and that nothing came pre-sliced out of a sealed plastic container. The bread was soft (as advertised) and the meat was definitely not frozen. You can see the heavily tattooed fry chefs pressing down balls of ground chuck (I’m assuming it’s chuck at least) on the flattop, which produced a noticeably seared crust on the burger.

While it doesn’t look huge or intimidating, the burger is drenched in what I’m assuming is beef grease and the extra oil definitely fills you up. Don’t let that scare you away though, besides the rivulets of fat running from the burger and dripping into a sodden puddle on the table, it’s hardly noticeable. It’s definitely not somewhere to go while on a diet (as expected, it’s a BURGER JOINT).

Not pictured: lake of grease.

Not pictured: lake of grease.

And everything else I ordered?


The cookie was soft, but way too sweet and otherwise plain, and the chili cheese fries were pretty underwhelming. This may be due to the fact that they were sitting in a box for 10 minutes, but that’s hardly an excuse for just really uninteresting tasting chili. It seems like they went hard on the ground beef and cheese and forgot all about the beans, tomatoes, spices and just about everything else that goes into chili.

The Verdict

The Good:

  • Burger
  • Coke
  • Decor

The Bad:

  • 50 minute wait/giant line
  • Everything other than the burger

The Ugly:

  • Stupid buzzwords and obnoxious, faux-trendy website (see below)

All in all, this wouldn’t be a bad place at all to grab a burger (and nothing but the burger) during lunch, before returning to your sedentary office life and not exercising.

Ah yes. The website.

The first thing you notice is the obese, neckbearded douche-bro video that was meant to be some lame jab at food bloggers, but really just ends up being a sad PSA on what happens to the human body after 30 years of burgers and neglect.

I wasn't joking.

I wasn’t joking.

Moving on from that, we have a jumbled mishmash of shit because websites that scroll down for 80 pages are apparently the future. (What are you looking at me for?)

In this steaming pile of horseshit, I managed to pick out a few shining shit-gems.

“custom blend of ultra premium beef”

“We believe in purity, simplicity and over a hundred years of grilling and grinding techniques.”

First of all, what the fuck is “ultra premium beef”?

After careful research (read: Google), I have come to the conclusion that they are either:

a) Ordering all their beef from Cedar Rapids, Iowa

b) Blending dog-food into the ground beef


c) Full of shit and just using normal fucking beef and the most pretentious of buzzwords.

Honestly. It’s shit like this that gets me.

Quick lesson on actual grades of beef.

See “ultra fuckin’ premium” beef on there? Yeah. That’s what I thought.

The only people who would read “ultra premium beef” and believe that it means anything shouldn’t be allowed to procreate.


“a hundred years of grilling and grinding techniques”

Holy mother of Christ this is stupid.

When I barbeque things over charcoal, do I brag to my guests that I believe in purity, simplicity, and over 40,000 years of grilling techniques?

No. I don’t. Because I’m not some un-creative schmuck who should really stick to making burgers and stay away from writing things.

Leave the writing to the bored professionals with nothing else to do with their life.

I’ll leave you with my Bible verse of the day:

Yet she increased her prostitution, remembering the days of her youth when she engaged in prostitution in the land of Egypt. She lusted after their genitals – as large as those of donkeys, and their seminal emission was as strong as that of stallions.

– Ezekiel 23:19

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