Guy Fieri’s like the Pied Piper of Hamburger; wherever his fluffy head travels, people follow, saucer-eyed and drooling, visions of grease traps and checkered wax paper dancing in their heads. And Lankford’s ramshackle old mom-and-pop grocery—or rather, its vintage Coca-Cola sign—would be just the thing to send “Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives” scouts into a tizzy. Its garage full of Texas memorabilia could’ve been conceived by a production team, and the regular cast of old men who seem to all know each other—with their Southern colloquialisms and nicknames—is TV gold.

Fortunately, the time-warpiness and vibe are roughly the same as ever, if now a little more…famous. And the burgers are still course-ground, hand-formed, half-pound monsters, charred to a (if you ask for it) juicy medium-rare. It’s oozy and messy. Gluttons for punishment love the “Firehouse Burger,” studded with home-grown habaneros before grilling, and slathered in a vicious sauce. Chicken-fried steak, crispy and succulent, is another favorite here, and you must have some cobbler, whether cherry, peach, blackberry, or chocolate. Everything else, including the fries, is just so-so (opt for thick, not-too-greasy onion rings), and forget the enchiladas. You’re here for a burger. Listen to the Pied Piper, y’all—even if he does look like Corey Feldman doing an impression of Andrew Zimmern.