Ode to a burger …
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I just ate my 1,000,000th burger today (ok, I’m not sure of the actual number, but it has been quite a few). I have to say I love a good burger. Few things can match the majesty of well ground beef of good pedigree, seasoned with spices both subtle and bold, caressed by grains ground and baked into pillow-like splendor, wrapped with cheeses, doused with the mashed pulp of crimson tomatoes, and accompanied by various friends - mostly Mr. Bacon, Mrs. Lettuce (we suspect an illicit relationship may exist between these two), La Onion, Pickles and rarely Coronel Mustarde.
I only eat about one a week now, but I use to make my wife nuts. If we went to a Mexican restaurant I’d order a ‘Mexi-Burger’ Hawaiian tonight dear? An ‘Aloha Burger’ for me.
I’d swear that at one point cattle would move to the far side of the pen if I drove by. Of course now I eat less meat, and occasionally substitute vegetable patties. I worry about my health, about those poor cows (I’ll be the first to try genetically altered eggplants that taste like beef!), and the possibility that I might come back as a blade of grass in a cow pasture.