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In-N-Out is happy to be in Washington—or at least the employees are. Many came from restaurants in California, Texas, or beyond to work the Ridgefield opening.
As a rule, I hit up In-N-Out Burger whenever possible. Why? It always feels a little special, a little more delicious than other, easier-to-get burgers. I’ve eaten at the famed chain before a Kraken away game in Anaheim and in Boise on the way to the Idaho mountains. Once, in Palm Springs, I pulled up to an In-N-Out in a Rolls–Royce. (I did not utilize the drive-through that time because it was definitely not my Rolls–Royce.)
Washington’s first outpost of the California-born burger joint opened Wednesday after long anticipation and a few fake-outs (like the prank sign someone posted in Wallingford in June). Problem is, it’s located in Ridgefield, a suburb of Vancouver, Washington. Meaning it’s basically a Portland In-N-Out.
Since I was already going to be in the area today for other reporting, I figured I’d take my chances at the new In-N-out; here’s a timeline of my great burger adventure.
7:45 am I depart Seattle, hoping to get ahead of Tacoma and Joint Base Lewis–McChord traffic. Google Maps warns me that In-and-Out won’t be open at my planned 10:14 am arrival.
10:04 am After only a little light speeding, I pull off exit 14 on I-5 South and am immediately directed by electronic sign boards and traffic controllers in vests. State patrol vehicles stand watch at every circle. This cluster of restaurants—a Starbucks, a Chipotle—is clearly brand new, and a Costco sits across from the In-N-Out.
10:08 am I pass by a field of orange cones, set up and waiting for the crowds, but the stream of cars moves so quickly into the drive-through. The line is already inching ahead at a steady pace, and I realize Google’s 10:30 am opening time is false. I’m about 30 cars deep.
10:18 am I realize I don’t want to in-and-out this In-N-Out experience. Why eat and run? I ask a passing employee if I can grab a spot in the parking lot instead. Another vested employee delightedly congratulates me on getting the last empty parking spot. He tells me he’s up from a Temecula In-N-Out to work this launch, and says they opened at 9 am today to try to manage crowds. Normally it’s 10:30.
10:23 am I’m in a line of about 10 people on foot to enter the restaurant, shaded from the sun by a row of pop-up tents. I ask employee Kaitlyn, from Southern California, if they find our enthusiasm a little silly. “You know, I get it,” she says and hands me a sticker.
10:30 am At the register already, I totally blank. Fortunately, In-N-Out’s menu is famously brief: hamburgers, cheeseburgers, fries, shakes. The even more famous “secret menu” is laid out on the website, though not the menu boards themselves, but I don’t need four beef patties on one burger—yikes—and dislike the signature spread (no mayo for me). I stick to a cheeseburger and chocolate shake, and get my boyfriend a double–double to go.
Every register has two workers, perhaps more out-of-towners training the locals. Behind them, the kitchen is absolutely packed; I count at least two-dozen people in red aprons, some in 1950s-style paper hats.
10:43 am My order is ready and I head outside to the still-empty tables in the sunshine. The wait seemed on par for other locations I’ve visited on more normal occasions.
In-N-Out prides itself on not freezing or pre-packaging its food, saying restaurants have to be within 600 miles of a distribution center. The company remains privately owned and isn’t franchised; the slow growth has been on purpose. Ridgefield is the 424th location. Inside, it looks like every other one.
10:44 am I take some photos for the ‘gram and chow down. The buns are softer than you’d find at most fast food joints, and the produce is crisper, but I’ll admit that it’s not hugely distinct. The unsalted fries are refreshingly less greasy than most, though.
10:59 am An open-sided trailer sells merch in one corner of the parking lot. This staff is even more hyped than the folks inside, and they can’t wait to show me the hidden Bigfoot on their new Washington t-shirt or the plush emoji fries with various facial expressions. I buy my boyfriend a keychain because I don’t know how good that double-double is going to be when I make it home tonight.
11:05 am As I leave, I notice that the field of orange cones has started to fill with cars waiting for the drive-through. At least 50 people stand in the pedestrian line now. I beat the chaos, which seems worth the early lunch. It was a fun detour, though probably not one I’ll make again until the crowds die down in 2027 or so. It’s the scarcity that makes In-N-Out so special.
In-N-Out has not announced how long the early openings will last, but the hunger is clearly there. So, for anyone looking for that sweet, sweet animal-style in Washington, that’s my tip: don’t trust Google. Think burgers for breakfast.
