So after raving about L. Mullins fabulous ribs in my last post, I come back with a story of fear and loathing from my own backyard at Casa Jimmy...Me and the wifey decided to simply grill a couple of burgers for dinner one evening last week. Cam calls and says he's coming over (fine by us). He's bringing a couple of friends as well.
Problem - we have only one small package of ground beef.
Solution A - go to the store for more meat
Solution B - smash out the patties really thin and flat to make 5 burgers.
Of course we chose B...
Anyway, soon dinner is on the table as we all prepare to chow down. My burger tastes like crud - really chalky and gross. Maybe we smushed them too much resulting in overcooking and subsequently crappy tasting burgers. Any respectable cook yearns for a compliment on their offering, but I knew one wasn't forthcoming on this night. Burgers that taste like feet for Cam and his buddies. Great. Time for a full confession.
Me: "Guys, sorry the burgers are so bad. Must've overcooked them."
Wife: "Mine's great."
Cam and friends: "Mmpphff..."
They were just being kind,I'm sure. At least that what I think mmpphff means.
I continued to choke down the lousy excuse for a burger when it popped ever so slightly out of the edge of the bun - the piece of wax paper stuck to the slice of cheese that I had been slowly devouring throughout the meal. I quietly removed the gnarled portion of the remaining sheet in time to have the last bite of an untainted burger. It tasted just fine.
There's a moral here - but I'm not quite sure what it is...
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