Gella's Diner and LB Brewing — Restaurant in Hays

A Fever Dream at the End of the Asphalt Rainbow: Five Stars for the Oasis of the Damned We roared into this sun-baked armpit of the American Southwest—let’s call it the Crossroads of Nowhere, where the cacti stand sentinel like deranged phallic totems and the locals eye you like you’re fresh meat for their meth-fueled barbecues—like a pair of gonzo pilgrims chasing the ghost of a decent meal after three days on the road fueled by warm Schlitz and existential dread. The sign flickered like a bad acid flashback: The Rusty Spur Saloon & Grill, a ramshackle joint plopped unceremoniously on Route 66’s forgotten stretch, where the jukebox wails Hank Williams remixed with mariachi horns and the air smells of mesquite smoke, spilled tequila, and the faint, acrid tang of regret. Five stars? Hell, in this godforsaken purgatory, it’s the only beacon between the abyss and the void, a five-star hallucination etched in neon and grease. I staggered through the swinging doors (saloon doors, naturally—because why not lean into the kitsch like a drunk cowboy at a poetry slam?), my veins humming with the residue of whatever black-market peyote I’d scored from a hitchhiker with a missing tooth and a conspiracy theory about Bigfoot running the border patrol. The place was a carnival of the damned: locals in faded Wranglers and trucker caps stained with the blood of a thousand lost weekends, huddled over Formica tables like conspirators in a Watergate of small-talk. One gap-toothed sage in a John Deere hat leaned in, his breath a cocktail of Budweiser and boiled peanuts, and rasped, “Stranger, you look like you seen the face of God and found him wearin’ flip-flops.” Before I could retort with something profound about the military-industrial complex’s role in diner coffee, he slapped my back hard enough to dislodge a lung and launched into a yarn about wrestling a rabid coyote with his bare hands while quoting the Tao Te Ching. Fun? These weren’t locals; they were archetypes escaped from a Hunter S. Thompson fever dream—wild-eyed philosophers, barstool shamans, and one wiry old coot who claimed he’d once arm-wrestled Hunter himself over a bet involving a stolen elephant. Their laughter boomed like thunder in a tin-roofed trailer, crude and cathartic, turning a pit stop into a symposium on the absurdity of existence. By the time they’d roped me into a round of “Never Have I Ever” with shots of mescal that tasted like regret distilled in a mason jar, I felt less like an interloper and more like the prodigal son returned to the bosom of America’s underbelly. But salvation, my friends, came not from the ether but from the grill, where the true messiah of the menu awaited: the burgers. Oh, sweet Jesus on a sesame seed bun, the burgers! Stacked high with patties forged from the loins of cattle that probably roamed free until the ghost of manifest destiny gunned them down, these behemoths arrived sizzling like a Molotov cocktail in a skillet—juicy, rebellious slabs of beef defiant against the tyranny of overcooking, crowned with caramelized onions that wept balsamic tears and slabs of cheddar melted into existential goo. I devoured the Double Spur Special, a towering affront to vegetarianism, its bun toasted to the crisp edge of blasphemy, each bite a symphony of grease and glory that exploded in my mouth like fireworks over the Vegas strip during a blackout. Five stars for the burgers alone; they’d make a vegan renounce their vows and start a cult. Yet, in the spirit of balance—lest we forget the salads, those green harbingers of redemption for the hungover soul—their Southwest Caesar was a revelation, a riot of romaine crisp as a fresh lie, tossed with charred corn that popped like gunfire in a saloon brawl, pepitas crunching like tiny green grenades, and a dressing so tangy with lime and chipotle it could wake the dead or at least rouse a comatose trucker. It arrived in a chilled bowl the size of a hubcap, unpretentious yet unyielding, a verdant counterpoint to the carnal excess of the grill. In a world gone mad LB Brewing...

The bar alone would have gone to 5 stars. BUT.

I was visiting family in Hays. Everyone talks about this place. I was super excited. My burger was actually amazing. The only downside was the staff on the restaurant side. Our waitress came by our table maybe 3 times total. When she asked for drink orders.... being that they specifically have beer like it’s a specialty... I asked about the flights. She said A) it was pre picked which beers. And when I asked which ones she said ‘oh I don’t know’ and just stared at me. ZERO attempt to find out or like ask anyone else. So I got ONE beer. It was ok but I think I would've definitely ordered more had I been able to taste multiples. Hence paying for a flight. She brought our food. My boyfriends food was wrong. She didn’t come back again until she brought our check so we couldn’t even ask for the CORRECT side. After she brought our Check we waited a long time and she never came back- honestly we could have picked up our card and left no one cared nor paid attention. I had to get up and go get her to run our card. We went to the bar after for another attempt at trying the other beers.... The bar guys were phenomenal. They saved the place for me. I asked him again about the flights and he pulled a piece of paper from a stack sitting right there on the bar that had every beer listed in the flight. He said he was out of one and he could put my choice there. He apologized about the waitress and told me he could actually put any beers into the flight for me to make up for it. I got to try the few I was excited about- loves them. He made me a custom drink. Without that bar and those experienced af bar tenders... I don’t know if I would go back. Told our family about it and got a few grumbles that it’s not as great recently as it has been in the past. I really hope this isn’t the case! It’s a cool spot. I’d shell out next time we were in town if I knew who’s area to...

Great service, good food, nice atmosphere. We had the haddock fish meal and the beef short rib stroganoff with the green bean dumpling soup. The haddock meal was beyond great, perfectly cooked fish and very tasty. The stroganoff was a bit on the bland side but with the addition of salt and pepper it was better. My dumpling soup was cold at best but we were almost full so we didn't complain, we just asked for a to go container so it could be heated properly later. Overall a good visit but some things need attention. Our server was very attentive and nice. THIS NEXT PART IS A SEPARATE VISIT THE NEXT MORNING, GOOGLE WOULD NOT ALLOW ME TO REVIEW ON TWO SEPARATE POSTS. We decided since we had such a good experience for dinner we would come back Sunday am for the breakfast buffet...let's just say we should have stayed home and cooked. Our server seemed like she was hungover or just didn't give a damn. We were seated and told she would come back and let us know when the buffet opened. I decided to go wash up in the restroom and when I did I passed the buffet and there was already a line. Upon getting back to our table I asked if she had come back and said it was open, she hadn't. We went and got our food which had great selection. We got back to our seats and needed salt and pepper. We asked a staff member at the entrance and she said we had to ask our server and dismissed herself back to talking to another staff member. We waited for some time and even seen others looking around for salt and pepper too. Finally, she came and got us some when we were half done with our meal. She didn't even know if they had coffee at the beginning of our visit and we had to get up and go find her to get a refill, ridiculous....food was warm but not hot. I absolutely love to visit Gellas everytime I'm in Hays but if this is how they are going to run their business I'll probably not...