Trump Burger
By 
From Civil Rights-era lunch counter sit-ins to restaurant kitchens operated by immigrants across the country, food — its systems, histories, and cultural patterns — has always been political. Some restaurants, however, make it more evident than others.
Trump Burger, which loudly proclaims its support for President Donald Trump, has quickly become one of the most controversial fast-casual restaurants in Texas. What started as one politically charged burger joint in Bellville, Texas, in 2020 has since expanded to a chainlet across the region, bringing its unapologetically MAGA branding to cities like Flatonia, Texas; Kemah, Texas; and, most recently, West Houston on Chimney Rock Road.
Owner Roland Beainy, a Lebanese immigrant who says he opened the restaurant in support of Trump, has been candid with local media. Though his restaurants have no official affiliation with the president, Beainy has said he thinks Trump greatly improved the economy during his first presidency (spoiler: he didn’t) and hopes to collaborate with him one day. Not everyone, however, seems as enthusiastic. Even before opening its doors in May, Trump Burger’s Houston outpost was met with middle fingers from passing drivers, according to a Houston Chronicle report — a sign of the friction in a predominantly Democratic city. But Trump Burger isn’t trying to win everyone over. From the “Made in USA” logos plastered on the menu to burgers literally stamped with the Trump name, the restaurant makes its deference to the president (and a particular group of diners) resoundingly clear.
So, how does Trump Burger really stack up to the compelling burger options already in Space City? Eater Houston tried it so you don’t have to. Here’s the rundown.
It sounds like the food is extremely whatever, which doesn’t make it different than most burger chains. But here’s the rub:
Every Trump Burger location tries to outdo itself in nationalist and personality cult aesthetics. Though Houston’s exterior is more subdued and minimalist, the Kemah location features a stage for live music and cocktails. The Bellville location seems most over the top: Images of Trump dominate the space, with life-size posters alongside flags, slogans, and merchandise that blur the line between restaurant decor and propaganda. A particularly jarring image shows Trump raising his fist, bloodied ear and all, after surviving an alleged assassination attempt in 2024 — an image positioned not far from shelves stocked with Trump-branded mugs, hats, and koozies.
But for all the visual noise, the actual atmosphere can feel eerily subdued. As I walked in on a recent Sunday, the tension, likely combined with our nervousness, felt palpable. Here, the vibe wasn’t festive — it was stiff, uncertain, and uncomfortable, particularly for me, a woman of color. The other diners present avoided eye contact. Even the playlist, looping music videos on wall-mounted televisions, couldn’t inject life into the space. The most excitement I saw was among families toddling around with their kids, many wearing Trump memorabilia (a boy, no older than 7, donned the shirt that read “Daddy’s Home”). It was a stark contrast to the raucous, family-friendly energy you’d expect at most burger joints.
The sad thing about this is not that restaurant owners and patrons like Trump. I’ve been in breweries for example whne driving around the nation that are obviously Trumpy and it’s kind of weird. But there’s a whole other level from having your establishment being copaganda and it being festooned in Trump gear, including the buns. It’s just a sad state of affairs when people choose their dining options based on the politics of the owners and the branding as openly fascist. That has nothign to do with the food or even the politics, but because it’s just a dreary experience for all involved. No one is really just relaxing and having fun. Either you are so seething with hate that you come to this place or you feel like the enemy who just wants to leave.
It’s like right-wing students who take college courses in order to get their professors in trouble. What a pathetic and sad way to spend four years. Why would you do this?