I mistook an osprey for a seagull. I’m sure that was a deep insult to the osprey, but it was an honest mistake on my part. It was an honest mistake kind of a day.
He was sitting at the tippy-top of a sailboat mast, quite still in awkward contrast to the little flag next to him that was dancing wildly in the wind. I cast my eyes from one honest mistake and toward another one. Wooden planks beneath my feet made an inviting sound, sort of like a series of hints to follow. Yes, they whispered, this is the way. You’ve found it, finally!
After making several U-turns while my stomach churned, I had managed to turn into the correct little dirt road, to the correct little marina entrance, to the correct little corner of the world that housed it. It, of course, being a food truck. What else would possibly motivate me to make several U-turns and wander around in rush-hour traffic with my stomach acting something like a compass, or maybe a homing device?
This was not just any food truck, it was the food truck that had brought me the tongue tingling ecstasy that is called The Half Pound Colorado Burger with Rosemary Fries. This beautiful creation touched my lips many times with its subtle layer of melted cheese, and its red onion compote delicately discoloring the bun that gently nuzzled the thick layer of meat between. And the fries—oh the fries. Perfect little matchsticks decorated with what looks like discarded bits of a Christmas tree, but in the nicest way possible.
That burger and I had a special connection—it was love at first taste. But, like any proper story, there was conflict. That conflict came in the form of the food truck owner deciding to pack up and move out of state. It was a shockingly selfish act. That chef would be something like a combo of both the king and the wicked step mother if this were to be a Cinderella story. And so that burger and I were forced to part ways, and not even a glass slipper was left behind.
But wait! This is not yet a tragedy. After a couple of years, the food truck resurfaced. There was talk on the street. Like any ex-lover curious about her former inamorato, I snooped a bit. And so there I was, standing at the open window of the very familiar metal box on wheels. I took a breath and spoke.
“One Colorado burger please.”
The unfamiliar face behind that window looked quizzically at me. She was a young girl with an air of self-importance, and being as young as she was, I had the feeling it was unfounded. She spoke.
“Is that on the menu?”
It was my turn to stare at her quizzically, before my eyes moved to the menu board next to me. There were a totally of six items written there in chalk, and I was fairly certain I was not hallucinating the words “The Half Pound Colorado Burger.”
“Yes…”
“Oh, okay…” and the girl began to write, painstakingly slowly, onto a little pad. It was around then that I started to have a bad feeling. I stepped back to wait for my food, having the time to cast a quick glance back up at that osprey-seagull. He was long gone, and the wind had died down in an ominous fashion. I squinted my eyes at that metal box. The cook had just stepped out, and I wanted to look away, really I did. No one should look at the mystery person that cooks their food. It must be bad luck. We must live in willful ignorance about the man that just cooked our burger being covered in warts or boils or having a two foot long beard or god only knows what…but I looked anyway.
He didn’t have any of those things, but maybe what I saw was worse. His face had a weird expression that twisted it. He was eyeing me and then the other customers strangely while eating what looked like green slime in a cup. Even in the absence of green slime consumption, the dude’s vibe was off. The knot in my stomach was tightening as a panicky thought moved onto the scene. What are they doing to my beloved burger?
The slime eater went back inside. Ten minutes later the girl delivered my love. I opened the top anxiously and there it was—just as I remembered it: bun set immodestly aside to show off the well-endowed piece of meat lounging there, tastefully semi-clothed in cheese and purple onion compote. I closed the box, and hurried to my vehicle, excited to get home with my prize, where we could enjoy some privacy.
And so I got home, and I took one glorious bite into this creation of mouth pleasure and…
It was raw.
I had just purchased dog food that had been lightly browned. I suppose that would make it gourmet dog food. We humans discovered fire a million years ago, surely we ought to be using it properly by now.
I stared down at that red meat with my teeth prints in it, looking all gummy like it was waiting to be shaped and put into a pan as a meatloaf. It wasn’t looking half as disarming as it had once. And so that is the way I think we all must get over our lost loves. We must discard the rose colored memories and look at it with fresh eyes. It was just a soggy piece of meat, and I was a mouth hungrily seeking out new horizons.
I leaned back in my chair and gazed down at my second honest mistake for the day. I thought I had purchased mouth ecstasy, and instead all I had was a pile of food poisoning.
Oh well.
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Ugh! There's nothing worse than having an awesome meal from a place, and going back to have your dreams so callously dashed.
Hope you've been well - I seem to have NOT read you for ages!!!
Callously dashed is a very accurate description. It was callous, and I felt positively dashed after biting into that.
I have been well, thank you. I have not written here for ages, but who knows, I just might write here again soon.
Oh Wow ! I could barely believe my eyes when I saw you had posted ! I've missed you and I hope you and your family are doing well.
Now.... How disappointing !!! I'd be looking for somewhere to do an online review while that raw imposter was still sitting on the table. Ugh !
I do love those photos. 🙂
Although I haven't kept a list, I have been disappointed multiple times over the last few years as restaurants and other food makers have changed their products, most of the time to make them cheaper I am guessing, but in the process, totally ruining a good product. I am expecting the lovely taste and experience I have had through the years, only to find some tasteless wannabe has replaced the original greatness. So sad !
You didn't mention if there were still rosemary fries.
I'm glad you didn't get poisoned.
That is very sweet of you to miss me. I missed you too. We are doing well, thank you.
As it turns out I did leave an online review, and it was not long after the burger left the table. Do you overthink that sort of thing like I do? I will write it, trying to be honest and not sound dramatic, because I know people like myself will be reading it and assume that the writer is just a fuss pot if they say something like "I did not order a side of food poisoning." But who can resist a play on words? Not me, that's who. You know what I mean? Probably not, I think this is a personal problem. Moving on.
I have to admit that I too am one of these have-to-tinker-with-perfection folks. Can't make a recipe twice. Have to fix it, even if it is perfect. Are you the sort that has those tried and true recipes that you make and it is perfect but the same every time? A lot of people are, and good for them, I will just be over in the kitchen throwing in some chocolate chips and contemplating if a bit more butter would help matters. But I agree with you, I hate purchasing inconsistency - damn all those other people and companies that are just like me ;)
They did have the rosemary fries, and they did not screw them up. I actually congratualated them on that in the review...in a way that might have sounded dramatic.
I'm glad I didn't get food poisoning either! Yay for a tough gut.
I'm glad you did a review. I try to be fair. I realize more folks that are unhappy write reviews than people that are happy, so the numbers are never quite real. I try to leave some when everything is good too. I have left some though where I mentioned the food wasn't as good as it used to be on a couple where the next generation has taken over and decided they could do it better than how the food was, that kept that business open for 50 years or more already. Best way to sink a place is mess with recipes that have already proved to be tried and true.
For home though, I try a recipe as written the first time. If it is wonderful, I don't mess with it, but if is is almost good but just needs a tweak, I will do that when I make it the second time. If it isn't that good the first time, I trash it. :)
I think I can afford to tweak my home recipes, but if you are a business and I have been coming to you for years for the same good food, I don't want you to change it.... and I mean it !! ha ha.... the world... according to me.
Agreed, businesses should be sticking with their tried and true. Or in the least don't hire strange slim-eating cooks to make the new recipe :)
You are a practical cook at home. I could use a bit more practicality in my kitchen sometimes.
Ohhhh nooooo... I don't know whether to laugh or to cry...
We romanticise our food, don't we?! How many times have we returned to a certain shop, to a certain food, with memories over-flowing with such expectation... and then wham, bam, ugh! It was just a dream... so sad to finally awake...
Good to have you back! :) That beach reminds me of my trips to the beach as a kid! :D
I suppose life would be pretty boring if it was more consistent. <--- That seemed like the proper lesson to take from this experience, but no, I refuse to accept any lessons, I want my perfect burger back! :)
Thanks for reading.
I think that has got to be one of the best food reviews I have ever had the pleasure to read.
Why thank you, it was a pleasure to write it. Thanks for reading.