Motz’s Burgers — Restaurant in Detroit

Me, 18 male Carson, and my buddy, Evan 18 male went to this place with high hopes. See, I promised good service because I really needed to up my reputation with Evan, trying to make a dearly good impression! We walked to the place, drazing through the humid insufferable weather. Motz was truly our last hope of sanity, sent to save us from this horrid climate we strut through. I had already planned to spend a splendid fine dine with Evan . Yet so, just by the appearance of this building, my hopes fell low like shawty. As the wind skadadled through my blonde locks, and fore through Evan's Black silky weave. The sign was dingy and worn out, almost as if my grandmother had crafted it in her youngin days. I sigh, knowing Evan deserves so much better. I advise him that this really is where we are staying to eat. He looked awfully confuzzled. I buffered heavily, nervous to ruin my quien relationship with my dear dear Comrade, Evan. Stepping in, the aura already lingered with dilg. Heavily unpleasant, yet we keep wanding through this pitty plument. Walking up to the register, I take note of the misfortune, of no me tea on the menu. Evan was rather, content, collected, and set. Can't relate. I ordered a fine meal of tea and crumpets, the woman looked at me like I asked for steak and milk. Astonishing, I tell you. Evan glances the menu a few, until settling on Cheese burger. I'm never one to judge, yet the cashier was surely one to disagree with my point. We get seated, the room small and dainty. Because of seat range, I must sit across from my deary pal, Evan. I'd wish to have aquatinted him closer, but at last, never so. Evan's features where rather calm, watching the cars drift on past, faster than comprehendible. Thirty minutes of waiting go by, I'm stressed. The employees of few tried making small talk frequently, even when I jestered for them not to. As it was bothering and uncomfortable. Evan's slowly playing more impatient. I try to small talk with him, but it just makes it more uncomfortable and awkward for the both of us. The waiter appears with our food, cold. I don't mind it. I would rather have beans on toast any noon. I fear Evan wasn't much pleased over it though. The work service was nice, but as slow as my dear granny getting up the stairs. No plates, just to go containers. The silver ware was not silver , rather plastic and easy to break. I stared into Evan's eyes, signaling if we should exit. He didn't understand. Giving in, I proceeded to eat, too ashamed to even voice a plead to leave, to dearly Evan. Then, just then, I noticed something awful. A hair in my food. A barnic from ones weave. Hell, hopefully head hair. At the rim of ditching this whole build, I murmur to my lovely, most cherished friend, Evan, a will of exitation. Evan willingly goes through. I asked to get my food to go, leaving the cash money on the table, the tip being no more than sixty dabloons. We exit, urgently. I hold onto Evans hand as we escort. Now out, I truly don't recommend this industry. Me and Evan are safe now, in the comfort of our shared beds. I took a trip to the doctor's afterwards, afraid I might have gotten some sort of illness from this meal. I did. Poisoning even. curing for it sooner than rather later oh was a ever so wise decisions. Evan was with me of course. Doctor offices still give me the heebie-jeebies. From the bottom of my British heart, don't eat here. Even so, don't even come. Just touching the door knob could probably give you eighteen STDs. I even made my lovely Evan get a check up. He was well. Thankfully. Stay out of this...

After many years of eating many sliders at many places, Motz's on Fort Street has become my clear favorite. It's not my neighborhood place and it has very limited hours (breakfast/lunch only, M-F only -- very unusual for a white castle!), so I'm not able to get there as often as other lesser joints, but that just makes every visit a treat! The sliders are perfect, the beef still thick enough to know that you're eating a burger, instead of being squashed down into a single-atom thin veneer. The buns are just the right size instead of oversized to trick you like some other places, yet they don't get soggy from the toppings and condiments. The onion rings and shakes are perfectly done every time no matter how busy they are (and this is one of the rare places that doesn't mind when you order a shake). Service is exactly what it ought to be: homey, warm, and ever so slightly gruff only because they're focused on being efficient and cranking through orders so that nobody waits too long for carryout; they pay good attention to you when dining in at the handful of counter seats.

Motz's is a gem born of a bygone era, and I'm so glad we...

Wait a minute. Is that an African American guy? Working behind the counter? Why that's the first I've ever seen and I was born and raised there. And I'm in my 70s now. I hope the tall Caucasian girl. Isn't there anymore? She was very rude. I was there one busy afternoon. She overlooked me 4 times I said something and she told me. These are my regular customers. So my generation stopped going. That was 5 generations, so now that. You have a black person working there and hopefully she's gone I heard she has her own truck. I would not buy anything from her but I will be back if she's gone. She was very rude and the burgers didn't taste the same. I also noticed she would take certain meat out of certain containers. I don't care what you say. You can try to defend her all you want. I haven't gone near since I went to Southwestern high school. I think she would give the old meat to us and the fresh meat to her regular customers.My opinion but like I said i'm gon to...