Why the Hell Does Dwyane Wade Want to Sell Burgers in Dallas?
We will initiate this by warning you that this is a strange story. The food-sports crossover is weird, the goal is weird, and the total lack of self-awareness at all levels of this thing is definitely weird too. We can’t imagine how this burger idea came about, and we certainly can’t grapple with the strategy that was used to market it. So buckle up.
On Monday, D magazine Got wind of an email from a marketing mucky muck. “Exciting news!” It started before it got completely unexciting news: Dwyane Wade, the Scourge of the Dallas Mavericks, is opening a ghost kitchen, and North Texas is apparently on its list of markets. For the uninitiated, a ghost kitchen is a restaurant without a dining room that only sells take-away and delivery.
Wade’s ghostly venture deals in burgers. It’s called D. Wade Burgerbecause why take a creative license in an industry not known for crazy names?
We can’t imagine what the hell is in a D. Wade burger other than plenty of salt and a minimal variety of flavors. Does it fall apart three bites earlier than it should and then mostly becomes useless? Could it win a food contest if backed by an extremely questionable rating? Will it only reach its full potential when paired with a filet mignon imported from the Midwest?
In and of itself there isn’t a ton here. The rise of the ghost kitchens is young but not new. The whole no-indoor dining thing during the pandemic certainly made it possible to spread. What makes this unusual is – well, read the email.
We know of at least one restaurant in town that received this but didn’t even install a grill line on the premises. Even if there was the right kitchen equipment to throw burgers on the grill – is the burger any good? Sure, the ghost kitchen gives you the recipe and promises the vague kind of training, but there is no quality control. Make this burger this way whether you like it or not. K, thank you, good luck!
Should a restaurant – a full-fledged dine-in-restaurant – put D. Wade’s Burgers on its menu, it is restricted to take-away or delivery only. Oh yes, delivery. Known and loved for its ability to keep a hot, steaming burger from A to B in pristine condition.
In the well-known stable restaurant industry working with this celebrity athlete’s company, it claims, “will instantly increase your restaurant’s revenue by adding D. Wade Burgers as a ghost kitchen to your current operation.” The celebrity athlete can lead his large fan base to a local restaurant, using every (small) local seal of approval he can bring to buy a burger that is probably just fine.
Wouldn’t you rather go to Whataburger or Keller’s or Harvey Bs or really somewhere else?
All of this is facing the most obvious headache: whoever buys burgers from Dwyane Wade in Dallas, of all places, that one still remembers publicly devastate Dirk Nowitzki’s leadership and not implying that so subtly Dirk faked an illness before the legendary fever game in the 2011 finals and [YouTube Link of the 2006 NBA Finals redacted]?
The city’s most despised professional athlete for the past 20 years wants to make his way into the local food industry by selling what is perhaps our best-represented food. As I said, strange and not very confident.
We have no idea when, where, or if this hits land, but we probably won’t let you know.
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