That One Jimmy Buffet Song

I went to my brother-in-law’s restaurant for lunch yesterday, and thoroughly enjoyed my food. He doesn’t read this blog, by the way, so I’m not currying favor here.

I had the double cheeseburger, and it was absolutely perfect: huge, uneven patties of ground chuck with a tiny bit of char; thick slices of cheese dripping from all sides; crisp, cold lettuce and tangy onions; grill-warmed bun.

It was the apotheosis of double-cheeseburgers.

The seasoned crinkle-cut fries, usually a highly-anticipated complement to the burger, faded into insignificance in the face of the tower o’ meat. Besides, I needed both hands to handle the burger.

I’m hoping at some point he’ll ask me to redesign their menu, because I already have the perfect name for this masterpiece: the five-napkin double cheeseburger.

The restaurant is a good half-hour away from us. I’m glad I don’t live any closer, because I expect my arteries would slam shut after a couple weeks.

I’m hungry, now. What’s for lunch?