By Bennett Fuson ([email protected])

Until recently, Red Robin has been a culinary conundrum for me.

I’m a sucker for a good burger, and this past summer I frequently saw a particular commercial in which an overweight, balding man dives through a window to get his Red Robin burger (a feat I later decided that, if given the chance, I would also do, although not necessarily for Red Robin). This troubled me, since Red Robin had not yet spread its wings in Indiana. So when I drove past the new Red Robin on Michigan Road, a small chorus of angels began to sing in my head. Finally, a chance to experience the hype and see if that large man’s glass dive really meant something.

First off, Red Robin is loud. I mean really, really loud, due to a large number of families with small children. Red Robin really strives to put the “family” in “family restaurant,” and they succeed, which is not a bad thing by any means. However, if noise is not a preference, then opt for carry-out.

Since Red Robin opened the second week of January, I did not figure the service would be stellar. Having worked through a grand opening at another restaurant, I know how many unexpected problems can arise the first week of business. But shockingly enough, it wasn’t half bad. The wait was not unbearably long, and the waiting area has a few arcade games (including the best game ever: Virtual Corn Hole!) and some televisions in the floor of all places.

Although the wait to get a table was rather uneventful, getting food was a different experience entirely. The wait staff was obviously frazzled by the massive amounts of people. I watched as my meal went past my table not once or twice but three times before the waitress finally figured out where the food really belonged. Yet for all the pandemonium, the wait staff seemed generally happy to be there. My waitress wore the look of uncontrolled stress across her face, yet managed to crack a few decent jokes in her “first time visitor” speech.

All right, moment of truth: the food. Red Robin boasts that they are the “world’s greatest gourmet burger maker,” which it proudly displays on a large neon sign across the entire dining room. The restaurant has a staggering 26 different kinds of burgers: anything from salmon to vegetarian to the traditional slaughtered bovine is fair game. The choices proved to be the most difficult part of the night, although the Royal Red Robin Burger was ruled out early due to a fried egg on top. (For those of you who don’t remember, I will not eat eggs in a chair, I will not eat them anywhere). Titles alone, though, don’t immediately establish credit, especially in this case.

“World’s greatest gourmet burger makers” they are not but “good gourmet burger makers” is a more accurate title. The size of the Whiskey River BBQ Burger was a bit of a disappointment, since for $8.99 the burger looked like it was grabbed from Hardee’s, which is also not necessarily a bad thing. The patty was small, about one third the size of any other burger found in a Red Robin-esque restaurant, but it was good. But it was topped with (gasp!) shredded lettuce, which is in my opinion the definition of poor quality. Red Robin also offers “Bottomless Fries” as a means to fill up the customer, but the fries looked like they came straight out of the Ore-Ida bag. In all honesty, $8.99 was about twice the price the burger deserved, but part of that might be due to grand opening jitters in the kitchen.

The rest of the food made up slightly for the disappointment of the burger, except for in the wallet. My date (a vegetarian) ordered the Gourmet Macaroni and Cheese, and I was impressed, since it combined American, Cheddar and of all things, goat cheese together. But the two best items came early: Towering Onion Rings and Freckled Lemonade. The onion rings were huge, stacked in a tower (thirteen onions stacked up does qualify as a tower, apparently) with some small gift from heaven called Campfire sauce, a spicy, smoky, beautiful culinary creation. And no words can describe my new love of Freckled Lemonade, except that the gods of the kitchen smile down upon this sugary confection, loaded with candied strawberries that taste like something in Willy Wonka’s forest o’ fun.

All in all, Red Robin is good, not great, but it was a really fun experience on a cold January evening. Hopefully, as Red Robin continues to build up its flock in Indiana, the service and quality will make the restaurant worthy of diving through glass.