Fresh beef, every morning
Ground daily by a family butcher in Plain City. It arrives at 7 am and it's gone by close.
Two friends, one flat top, and a line that wrapped around the stadium. Eight years later we're still cooking the same burger, just faster.
Jordan and Sam met working the fryer at a chain restaurant in Grandview. They spent every shift arguing about one thing: why a fast food burger couldn't taste like the ones their grandparents made on a cast-iron skillet. Thin. Crispy at the edges. Gone in four bites.
So in 2018 they bought a used trailer, a flat top, and a case of potato buns, and parked outside Ohio Stadium on game day. They sold out in ninety minutes. The next week they brought twice as much beef and sold out in two hours.
The rule that came out of that parking lot still runs both kitchens today. Nothing is cooked until you order it, and nothing takes longer than five minutes. If it does, your fries are on us.
First game day outside Ohio Stadium. Four menu items, one generator, zero change for a twenty.
A regular asked what the pink sauce was called. Sam said "epic" because he panicked. It stuck, and so did the brand.
We took over an old dry cleaner on High Street in the Short North. The flat top from the trailer is still bolted to the line.
Six months on a brine and a rub. Buckeye Hot Chicken launched in October and outsold burgers for a week.
A second kitchen on Sawmill Road with a drive-up pickup window and a patio big enough for a youth soccer team.
Two locations, a catering trailer, and the same promise as day one.
Ground daily by a family butcher in Plain City. It arrives at 7 am and it's gone by close.
We don't pre-cook for the rush. When the line is long we add cooks, not shortcuts.
Every team member starts above a living wage for Franklin County and gets a free meal every shift.
Buns from Cleveland, cheese from Amish country, ice cream from Utica. Local is the supplier list, not a slogan.
Two kitchens, both open till late.