I am back in Northern Virginia. It took a while, but I finally became relaxed down in Southside. I quit reading emails, or caring about obnoxious lawyers. I hit golf balls, visited with friends, enjoyed cocktails at the Club, saw one of my sisters, read books, and slept soundly. It was pure heaven. But now I am back in the land of lobbyists, defense contractors, politicians, and traffic. I can feel the tenseness creeping back into my soul.
The saving grace is that I will be with English and Dudley. Tomorrow English and I will visit the Farmers Market and The Locke Store, doing our weekly errands and routine. We will see friendly faces, and spend time together. Dudley will get eggs for breakfast on Saturday and Sunday. English and I will attend Mass on Sunday, and enjoy a quiet breakfast afterwards. So if I can avoid leaving our little corner of Northern Virginia, I can probably avoid the insanity for another couple of days.
The other day I had a discussion with another on the merits of a “smash burger” versus a hamburger. Full disclosure, I have a friend–Jason–who purportedly cooks a mean smash burger. I do not know exactly, as he has never cooked one for me.
But I have had a smash burger at a diner, and done correctly, they can be a nice change. Rumley’s Restaurant used to make a smash burger before the term was even invented.
But given a choice, I prefer a hamburger. Plump, charred on the outside, rare to medium rare in the middle (I am not afraid of rare hamburger meat). Sliced onion, cheese, mustard, and pickles, with a warm bun. Very nice.
And real hamburgers can be accompanied by a variety of beverages. Who does not like a milkshake, or a Coke with their burger? Want something stronger? Cold beer! Or, I can attest that an ice cold martini pairs well with a good hamburger. I have even enjoyed a robust glass (or 2) of Cabernet Sauvignon with my hamburger. But do not try that with a smash burger.
Now smash burgers are everywhere. Everybody’s got a smashburger, and mostly they are all boring and bad. Why is this encrapification? Because the idea behind a smashburger is that any doofus in an apron can prepare it. All he’s got to do is press down really hard and cook the thing until it’s a tasteless hockey puck covered with too much salt. All smashburgers are the same. America’s unofficial national food has gone from something juicy into an overcooked saucer of third-tier meat. You don’t have to use good beef if you’re going to cook it beyond well done. Cut the quality but jack up the price – it’s like private equity invaded our restaurant’s kitchens.
You should not have to go to a Morton’s or Ruth’s Chris steakhouse at lunchtime for a decent hamburger. You sure should not have to pay $35.00 for a decent hamburger. You ought to be able to go to your local, run of the mill restaurant, purchase and enjoy a rare hamburger for a reasonable price. I do not even need fries to be happy!
I keep emphasizing “rare” because that is the best temperature for cooking beef. Everyone will not agree, but they are wrong. Back in the 1980s, my father used to enjoy going out to this particular restaurant for a hamburger in Murrell’s Inlet, South Carolina. Then in its infinite wisdom, South Carolina passed a law forbidding restaurants to serve hamburgers cooked less than medium well. We never went out for hamburgers again.
Thankfully, South Carolina modified its stupid hamburger law. Now, if you are 18 or over, you can order a rare hamburger, but only if you are warned that eating meat cooked less than medium well to well done could sicken or kill you. How appetizing! I wonder; do they check ID for rare hamburgers in the Palmetto State?
English cooks a wonderful hamburger. So did my Mother. I’ll be Jason does too.
I am not so talented. But I am fully capable of eating a hamburger at any time. I could eat them every day of the week. Long time readers know of my affinity for In-N-Out burgers. Indeed, my favorite meal during our time in Dallas, Texas for Holland’s graduation, was at In-N-Out. Double Double with cheese, and a strawberry shake. So good!
The hamburger is all American. Even if it was invented in Hamburg, Germany.
GFK
