You can’t handle the truth; it’s too delicious
By Tad Wilkes
Problem: Boredom, stasis, routine.
Yeah, I know. Sonic Drive-In’s not a “local” restaurant. But I’m a local, having moved here in 1976. Sonic’s a chain, and the unit on University Avenue’s been here longer than I have, so I’m going to consider it local.
While going yard on a Chicago dog there today, my mind wandered to its best kept secret. It’s not on the menu, but with a nod and a knowing wink, it’s yours.
This crazed dish is called Extreme Tots. Ask for it by name. As I understand it, it was once a special, several years back. A friend of mine in Tennessee hipped me to it a few years ago, and I immediately put myself in a position to win, navigating to Sonic to push the bright red button.
Do not engage the button lightly. Think about what you’re doing. You will soon learn that the modifier “extreme” isn’t hyperbole. When you order it, I feel certain the Sonic staff break open a compartment and get those special keys like those guys in the underground nuclear weapons bunker on War Games used to begin the launch sequence.
Extreme Tots consist of tater tots, chili, cheese, ranch dressing, diced onions, and jalapenos—in one amorphous, preservative-packed, epicurian orgy.
It is a dish that will make the right person’s day and make others angry at its mere existence, the way people get enraged about things they fear. The right people know who they are, and to those people, I say, “You’re welcome.”