"COMMON GROUND: Fred's Cafe in Fort Worth is so unusual that it's darn near a state of mind. Punks, geezers, cowboys, players and hipsters gather at this diner-roadhouse for food that is far better than it ought to be, chased down with cheerleader beer (Bud or Coors Light) or Shiner Bock while seated on sagging, gold Naugahyde booths and bar stools.

The Fred's experience is really twofold: the thrill of discovery and the joy of acceptance. Consuming a juicy, robust, half-pound Fredburger ($6) with mouth-singeing, deliciously oily french fries makes you glad you have taste buds. But visiting with a regular is even more fun. The service is always folksy, but when a regular sits with you, the cook comes over to visit, meats are cooked to perfection, and charges on the bill miraculously vanish.

THE MEAT OF IT: The burgers really are terrific. Fredburger beef tastes like a blend of sirloin, round and chuck. The result is a juicy, beefy, brothy-tasting burger that isn't so greasy it needs to be wrung out like a cheap dish towel.

Burgers come with a generous slice of white onion, iceberg lettuce and tomato on an oversized bun. Fries are occasionally oily but never offensively so. They are also refreshingly unsalted, allowing the patron to season them to taste.

PIONEERING MOMENT: Fred's is arguably the first joint around to offer a bunless salad burger ($5.50 for a small, $6.25 for a large). Some years ago, cook Terry Chandler (the proprietor's son) had one at a truck stop in Oklahoma and thought it quite tasty. For this presentation, a Fredburger patty is topped with sautéed onions and covered with a mound of fresh, chopped iceberg lettuce and tomatoes. Cheese is optional. The hot burger-cold salad yin-yang works extraordinarily well, especially with a nice Italian dressing. Other restaurants may have low-carbohydrate burgers on the menu, but Fred's was ahead of the curve.

NOT BURGERS ALONE: About once a month, Mr. Chandler puts quail on the menu for some of the most expensive (but worth the cost) entrees you'll ever eat at a diner-roadhouse.

On a recent Friday, the menu had two quail entrees. No. 1: Two battered birds with garlicky, homemade mashed potatoes, cream gravy and skinny Asian string beans ($14). No. 2: A wing-and-turf entree of one chicken-fried quail and a 10-ounce (or more) strip steak with cream gravy, mashers and green beans ($18).

Almost every item was flawless. The birds were minimally seasoned before being treated to a bath in textbook-perfect batter, then fried. It isn't easy to eat battered quails because there are so many bones, but we did our best, reducing our birds to piles of bones in no time. The mashed potatoes were garlicky and homey (lumpy, but in a good way). The gravy that topped the potatoes was nirvana. Smooth and creamy, it tasted as if it were made with light cream and real butter. It had a dance of additional flavors: nutmeg, perhaps, and white pepper.

ABOUT THAT STRIP STEAK: It was admirably prepared. Mr. Chandler uses a flat-top griddle to cook steaks, so they come out rare with a slight crust and crispy edges.

He finishes the steak with sautéed onions and griddle gunk. Really. He removes the steak, drops a handful of onions on the flat top and cooks them with a tropical sauce of mango and other fruits. He deglazes the griddle with Shiner Bock, scrapes up the onions (and gunk), and tops the steak with it. The steak was terrific, tender and juicy. We loved the onions but hated the gunk.

ONLY ON WEDNESDAY: We've never visited Fred's on Wednesday (pizza night), but rumors abound regarding the outrageousness of Mr. Chandler's creations. Regulars say that you never know what will show up on a pie – maybe mushrooms, maybe French ham, maybe something more – but it will be fancy.

ORIGINS: The original Fred established the original Fred's about 46 years ago. Mr. Chandler's father took it over in 1978. Since that time it has been a prime hangout for music types, writers and beer-and-cigarettes-for-lunch types.

The L-shaped seating area cups the bar, and the walls are papered with concert posters, funny drinking signs and pieces of paper with random scribbling that means something to somebody. The walls are so cluttered with paraphernalia and so neglected by a scrub brush that the nicotine nearly beads on the walls.

It's smoky, and occasionally loose springs in the seats zap you in the rear end, but if you love a dive with good food, Fred's is an oasis."