The Longhorn Café is one of those inconspicuous eateries where you can show up wearing dusty cowboy boots and eat naughty fried foods without running into anyone you know. That is, unless you have friends who secretly belong to some obscure John Wayne fan club.

The strip-plaza restaurant, wedged between a Vons and Rite Aid in the heart of congested Mission Gorge, is a virtual shrine to The Duke. Hundreds of posters, paintings, photographs and statues of Wayne plaster the dark paneled walls – an insane collection amassed by the owner over the past 35 years and impressive enough to constitute a museum. Cherry-red Naugahyde booths and a beaten-down cocktail bar keep the atmosphere frozen firmly in the 1970s.

Feeling as though we had accidentally ended up in nearby Santee, my two companions and I followed the florescent ceiling lights to a banquette in the back dining area where we sat speechless at the ankles of an eight-foot picture of Wayne looming over us. Astonishment gave way to hunger pangs as we perused the tattered menus listing half-pound burgers and a litany of fried American bar food at reasonable prices. Our palates were ready for a dive into the deep fryers.

An appetizer of Chicken Drummies yielded a basket of wonderfully crisp “drumettes” with Buffalo wing sauce on the side for dipping. So crunchy and satisfying, they prompted us to order the Fried Chicken, a half bird with equally brittle skin sealing in moist and tender meat.

It became apparent that the oil used for deep-frying is kept at a very high temperature – it’s the only way to achieve this level of crispiness. The breaded shrimp that we also ordered as an appetizer were no less addicting – delicate like potato chips on the outside and succulent on the inside. When dabbed into the classic cocktail sauce, those memories of Friday fishfrys served at neighborhood taverns when I was a kid came rushing back.

“If they fried their salads here, I’d order one,” remarked one of my companions, who reveled in a thigh from the fried chicken entrée.

Sizzling fried pickins comprise almost the entire appetizer list – breaded zucchini, chicken nuggets and calamari strips – with the sad exception of a nine-inch DiGiorno Pizza that the kitchen cooks from the package.

Burgers are big business here. The menu claims that over 3 million have been served since 1970. But the thought of a flat-grilled, half-pound Longhorn burger seemed like cholesterol overload at this point, so I downsized to the quarter-pound Shorthorn burger. The patty was wide, thin and completely satisfying, especially after I doctored it up with the usual condiments scattered throughout the room on picnic trays. The menu also features a 1/3-pound Bison Burger for those hankering for true prairie food.

Just when we thought the term “freedom fries” was obsolete, the menu reminded us again of patriotism gone bonkers when France backed away from the Iraq war in 2003. The offering is printed in bold font under the dinner selections for Fried Clams, Top Sirloin, Fish & Chips, etc. In a place where Wayne is king and longhorns protrude from the walls, these fries will probably toot their freedom for a long time to come. And I guess one shouldn’t ask if the tuna melt comes on baguette.

After sniffing a squeeze bottle of sweet and smoky barbecue sauce from the condiment tray, we decided to try the BBQ Pork Sandwich as well. As we had hoped, it was stacked with the pulled meat and tasted deliciously down-home.

Other consumables include grilled sandwiches, nachos, chili and various other burgers topped with ortega peppers, mushrooms, bacon or grilled onions. The drink list features everything from Smirnoff Ice, commercial and specialty beers (a special draught served in a 16-ounce boot-shaped glass), to the John Wayne, made with Coke and grenadine.

The café uses some of the cheapest paper plates and bowls on the market – the kind that come 25 to a package in the dollar stores. And for our Chili Cheese Freedom Fries, metal utensils replaced our flimsy plastic forks only after I requested them. The restaurant’s low overhead no doubt equates to meal prices that fall generally under $8. Yet where Longhorn lacks in amenities, it makes up for in a friendly and amusing atmosphere, and truly some of the best fried food I’ve slid down in years.