Underrated Food You Can Only Buy At Gas Stations

There's a throwaway line from the 1983 cult road movie classic, National Lampoon's Vacation, in which a dad played by Chevy Chase is driving across America with his family: "I'm so hungry I could eat a sandwich from a gas station."

When heard today, the joke falls flat. After all, as CNN Business reports, these days, America's gas stations are doing increasingly big business by hawking organic salads, keto snacks, and kombucha. Even when they do stick to the calorie-laden classics such as pizzas, burgers, and burritos, more often than not, they're using all-natural, locally sourced, high-quality ingredients.

As the CNN report explains, large convenience store chains (about 80 percent of which come equipped with gas stations) are an increasingly popular solution for those in search of gas and food. Meanwhile, as lifestyles change, more and more people are favoring quick snacks over full-out meals. They find them in growing regional chains such as Wawa, Sheetz, Buc-ees, and Maverik, which have created customized brands and specialty foods. In doing so, they've also created intensely loyal foodie fan bases.

And still, there are those die-hards, like Chevy Chase's Vacation character, who believe that gas station food is synonymous with grease, fat, and calories. Of course, some of that greasy goodness is still alive and sizzling. But as we show below, there's a whole world of under-the-radar grub out there to fuel your next road trip.

An essential go-to for generations of Philadelphians, Wawa is way more than a gas station convenience store franchise. According to Food and Wine, the once-modest suburban dairy store has morphed into one the most beloved quick-service food operations in America, inspiring what Food 52 describes as a "cultish devotion" among its faithful Pennsylvania customers.

Although it's garnered considerable renown for its made-to-order hoagies, the quintessential Wawa treat is the freshly-baked Philadelphia-style soft pretzel. Aside from their delicious doughiness, Philadelphia pretzels are unique in that they're kneaded into the shape of a tight figure eight. Described by Food and Wine as a "malt bomb" endowed with bagel-esque levels of chewiness, a single Wawa pretzel is both large enough, and salty enough, to sustain two hungry non-Pennsylvanians. (Viewed that Philadelphians supposedly consume 12 times more pretzels than the average American, most can probably wolf down an entire pretzel without missing a beat).

If Wawa pretzels have a drawback, it's that they tend to induce considerable thirst. Fortunately, Wawa has you covered. While it receives plenty of accolades for its drip coffee. And according to Food 52, the perfect pretzel pairing (and antidote to all that rock salt) is a half-gallon of Wawa iced tea.

With Wawa and Sheetz locked in a constant state of culinary one-up-manship, there's plenty of opportunity for stealth favorites such as York-based Rutter's to leave its mark on Pennsylvania's gas station gourmet scene. Founded in 1747 as a family farm (still in operation to this day), Rutter's is accomplished at fusing local traditions with forward-thinking eating.

A very big case in point is Rutter's Ultimate Burger. The most craveable, award-winning version involves a 100 percent slab of Angus beef topped with BBQ beef short ribs. However, between beef and buns you can also insert crab cakes, a pastrami melt, mozzarella sticks, pork belly, french fries, funnel cake fries, jalapeno bites, mac & cheese bites, and/or fried pickles — and that's before squeezing and spreading on a choice of some 60 toppings and condiments.

If the Ultimate sounds a little daunting, consider the equally popular Route 30 Burger, named after the U.S.'s third-longest route, which passes by Rutter's original farm as well as many of its stores. The Route 30 Burger takes some unexpected detours, such as replacing traditional buns with a grilled cheese sandwich. It also allows customers to choose up to three burgers — with corresponding quantities of bacon, cheese, and all toppings — in the event they find themselves, as Rutter's website delicately puts it, "feeling a little extra hungry."

The fact that Royal Farms sells its fried chicken under the name "World Famous" is obviously a case of advertising hyperbole. That said, it's no exaggeration that within the lucky five states in which the Baltimore-based chain operates, fried chicken junkies are willing to make a detour in order to sink their teeth into what Food and Wine has anointed "the best fast-food fried chicken à la gas station."

There are a whole lot of reasons for Royal Farms' fame. The most fundamental is that the chain relies on fresh, never frozen, chicken. The chicken is first pressure-cooked to seal in succulent juices, then the bird is then generously hand-breaded in a crunchy coating infused with special spices before being fried to addictive crispiness.

The World Famous chicken comes in various lunch and dinner quick meals as well as robust family multi-packs (including 50-piece packs for particularly famished, multi-generational clans). For those who are finicky about their poultry pieces, technology allows you to hone in on your favorites — wings, drumsticks, breasts — with the tap of a touchscreen.

Happily, World Famous chicken is accompanied by equally World Famous and delicious battered and fried potato wedges known as Western fries. And if you happen to hit up a Royal Farms during its annual Chicken Palooza festival, you can enjoy major discounts and vie for the chance to win the grand prize of World Famous chicken for a year!

From the outside, Hawaii's 7-Eleven gas stations look identical to those anywhere else in the world. However, step inside and begin to scan the shelves, and you'll discover a tantalizing array of quintessentially Hawaiian nosh-ables packaged for immediate consumption. Among the most coveted of these local comfort foods is Spam musubi.

According to Hawai'i Magazine, this favorite Island snack was actually invented by Japanese immigrants living on the U.S.'s West Coast who were herded into internment camps following the 1941 bombing of Oahu's Pearl Harbor. With Spam being cheap and easily available at the time, the creators made a riff on sushi, layering seasoned slices of Spam on top of molded white rice. Over time, the dish gained in popularity, and even soldiers stationed in Hawaii during WWII enjoyed it. In fact, today's Island residents can boast to being the biggest per capita consumers of Spam in the United States — most of it via musubi.

7-Eleven sells a modernized version of musubi in which the meat is marinated in a sweet shoyu sauce and bound to a block of pearly rice with a ribbon of nori (dried seaweed). For over a decade, it's been recognized as Hawaii's best Spam musubi. However, more alternative renditions are constantly emerging on store shelves, including teriyaki, Sriracha, katsu, spicy garlic shrimp, and deluxe Spam musubi (with egg and furikake). All of them pair perfectly with 7-Eleven's equally endemic Slurpee flavors such as lychee and lilikoi (passionfruit).

Driving down any kind of highway on a sultry summer day is the best kind of excuse for an ice cream pit stop. Legions of gas stations across the land hawk every kind of ice cream imaginable, from the softest serve to the crunchiest Chipwich. However, only at family-owned Stewart's Shops in upstate New York and downstate Vermont can you fill your waffle cone up with a scoop of black raspberry ice cream.

Black raspberry may sound kind of banal when compared to the regional rivals on Stewart's menu. We're talking intriguing flavors with gallons of local pedigree such as Adirondack Bear Paw and Bake Placid Cheesecake, all made with milk sourced from local dairy farms.

However, Stewart's black raspberry more than makes up for its lack of lyricism with the sharpness and distinctiveness of its flavor. While it's a dead ringer for a blackberry, rubus occidentalis (as it's botanically known) is actually a special variety of the common red raspberry. In terms of taste, it's a perfect hybrid of sweetness and tartness that transports those who order a scoop (or a half-gallon) to that blissful state of eating berries right from the bush.

When it comes to whoopie pies, there's a lot of controversy surrounding who invented this New England delicacy, and where. According to a culinary historian with the alliterative name of William Woys Weaver, neither Maine, which claims the whoopie pie as its state "treat", nor Pennsylvania, where Amish children have memories of yelling "Whoopie" upon discovering the homemade sweets in their school lunches, can make the claim.

An objective Pennsylvanian, Weaver posits that the first official whoopie cake was made by the Berwick Cake Company in Massachusetts, who reinvented it, possibly by riffing on a cake served at the train station in Berwick, Maine. The result was the delicious double whammy of two soft chocolate cakes stuck joined by creamy frosting. The name, however, was borrowed from a popular 1920's Broadway show, "Makin' Whoopee."

It's fitting that Massachusetts not only gave birth to the modern-day whoopie pie but also to Cumberland Farms. Before it started pumping gas, the Westborough-based, family-owned chain was New England's first convenience store. The parallel isn't lost on customers who ritually head to "Cumby's" for in-house whoopie pies and cookies chased with a cup of coffee. Sold under the Farmhouse brand, pie flavors range from peanut butter to chocolate chip, while cookies skew from chocolate chunk to red velvet. All are pretty whoop-worthy, especially considering they're coming from a gas station.