The Oinkster’s signature pastrami takes a two-week bath in brine spiked with garlic and pickle spices. Guerrero then rubs the meat with a coriander and black pepper blend—“heavy on the pepper”—and smokes it for four hours. Before being sliced, the meat rests for a day or two so that it can reach its full flavor.

Pulled pork butt, the restaurant’s top selling protein, also sits in a house-made brine, one that includes honey and soy sauce. The meat is then smoked over applewood chips until black, or approximately nine hours. Guerrero prefers applewood to less expensive hickory or oak because of the deep, yet subtle flavor it lends to the meat. After smoking, the pork is slow-roasted overnight. Shredding distributes the smoke flavor and mixing in the reduced, strained drippings from the cooked meat maintains the pork’s succulence.

Despite the fact that Kennebec potatoes tend to be oddly shaped and bruise easily, Guerrero is convinced that they have the best taste and texture for fries. So everyday, fresh, whole Kennebecs—the same kind of potatoes used by In-N-Out Burger, he points out—are machine-peeled, then hand-cut, and trimmed at The Oinkster. “We have a guy whose job it is to manually pick through and trim buckets and buckets of cut potatoes,” Guerrero says.

Fries are first blanched in beef fat to remove moisture and add flavor, then finished in rice bran oil. The oil is expensive at $28 per box, but is essential to the “shattery-crisp outside and soft, creamy inside” Guerrero describes.

And even condiments are homemade at The Oinkster. Employees make daily batches of regular and chipotle-flavored ketchup, roasted garlic aioli, ancho-lime mayonnaise, and thousand island and curry salad dressings.

Guerrero admits that “it probably sounds crazy” to say that his slow-food concept can be a real competitor in the fast-food realm. But then again, the idea of a national, made-to-order burrito chain based on sustainable foods seemed implausible until McDonald’s Corp. purchased shares of Culinary Institute of America-trained chef Steve Ells’s Chipotle in 1998.

Like Ells, Guerrero understands that the success of his venture depends on whether or not he can translate his slow-food sensibilities to the no-time-to-wait, will-my-sandwich-drip-in-the-car expectations of fast-food consumers. At the same time, Guerrero is hoping that the freshness and distinctive flavor profiles of his products will play a part in influencing consumer expectations. “If you want a really fresh, great-tasting hamburger, you have to give it time to cook on the grill,” he says. “And you have to expect it to be juicy and drippy, especially when you top it with fresh tomatoes as we do.”