Fast Food Restaurants near Chester

“The absolute perfect early dinner for a cold and rainy fall day in VT! The slight wait was more than worth it for the delicious Cheech n Chong chili and chili nachos with REAL cheese. The owner puts his whole heart into his food and you can tell. Thank you so much! Definitely will be coming back this fall.“

“Absolutely LOVE this subway!!! Always clean and tidy and the associates are always so pleasant! Best SUBWAY AROUND only place I will get a sub from!

Vegetarian options: They do have a veggie delight sandwhich!!! Which tons of toppings to choose from!“

“Hot sunny day. Ordered a root beer float ($6.50 + tax). Was handed a tall plastic glass with 2" of vanilla soft-serve in the bottom and a WARM bottle of root beer.“

“Springfield, Vermont. Blink and you’ll miss it. A town where time seems to slow down just enough for people to wave at passing cars and still believe in rotary phones. Right in the middle of it all — smack in the heart of Main Street America — stands a McDonald’s. The only fast-food joint in town for the past 30 years. A monument to consistency. A burger-slinging lighthouse in a sea of general stores and mom-and-pop plumbing outfits.

I went in expecting the usual — a rushed transaction, maybe a half-lukewarm hash brown, and the vague scent of fryer oil clinging to the air like a regret. What I got instead was something dangerously close to hospitality.

The doors opened, and there was Lisa. She didn’t greet me. She welcomed me — like I was a weary traveler arriving at a Parisian bistro, not a guy trying to shake off a hangover with industrial-grade coffee. Her “Hello!” had weight to it. Intention. It was like being seen for the first time after a long journey through flavorless beige.

Lisa knew the menu like a seasoned maître d’ knows the tasting notes on a 2003 Bordeaux. She didn’t just take my order. She curated an experience. I mentioned the steak and cheese bagel — she raised an eyebrow and suggested I try it on a muffin instead. I trusted her instantly. I'd have let her name my children.

Then came the food. That muffin was absurd. Soft. Buttery. Slightly crisped on the edge like it had been blessed by the griddle gods. The steak and cheese? Savory, decadent, with just enough salt to make you sip your coffee like it’s an aged scotch. It didn’t taste “good for McDonald’s.” It tasted good, full stop. Like, “cancel your lunch plans” good.

The place itself? Spotless. I’ve eaten in James Beard Award-winning kitchens that didn’t feel this clean. Hell, I would've eaten off the floor if Lisa gave the okay — and if I’m being honest, I probably would’ve still used a napkin just out of respect.

This wasn’t fast food. This was small-town theater. Comfort. Americana in its purest, most artery-clogging form. Lisa wasn’t working a counter — she was running the show. Holding down the only fast food in town for three decades like a local legend. A culinary general behind enemy lines of corporate blandness, somehow making it human again.

If you’re passing through Springfield and you don’t stop here, you’ve failed yourself. And if you do stop in, tell Lisa she’s the best maître d’ in Vermont — and probably a better chef than half the guys I’ve seen on the Food Network.“