There is no other meal staple that encapsulates being a husband, a father, a man, more succinctly than the hamburger. I’d even go so far as to say that you could tell a lot about a man given the state of his burger making skills.
Jump in the Way Back machine with me, Sherman, as we go back to the first time that I got a wild hair up my ass to make burgers for my family.
It was nearly 2 years ago. I was in a rut as far as making dinner was concerned and I was rather bothered by it.
You see, cooking for me at that time was my meditation. The kids were still young (and if I am not mistaken, this was the year that they were home-schooled. More on that later.)
When it was time to make dinner the tone of the entire day for me changed for me when I got into the kitchen. The kids knew not to fucking bother me when I was cooking and they also knew not to act like damn fools because if I had to stop what I was doing, it was guaranteed that I’d go ghetto on their little asses.
(For the record, I still hold them to those standards to this day.)
At the time, my wife was against ground beef and meat based dinners (which was and is, perfectly valid) but I needed to do something. I needed to branch out. So I decide that I’m going to make burgers.
Yes, that’s right: I was 3 years into being a stay at home parent before I fucked with ground beef.
Fuck everything that you have ever heard about ground beef. Seriously, just forget it. In terms of versatility, ground beef in unparalleled. Hamburgers, lasagna, pasta dishes, meat balls, chili, tacos… You can do a lot with this shit.
Burger night rolls around and the recipe that I consulted told me that you can basically put anything in your burgers (beans, veg, cheese, fruit, etc) and still have it taste good as long as the seasoning you use doesn’t fuck everything up.
(Seriously, take it as gospel.)
Regardless, I decided a chopped up onion (it just felt right) and conservative seasoning was the way to go. The end result was a pretty decent burger for my first time out.
Cut to a few days later. It was lunch time and I didn’t have any buns so I decide to make a “burrito burger” out of the left over burgers. Everything came out good, so I decided to Instagram that shit (because at the time, it wasn’t that obnoxious to do so).
It took my sister to point out to me that our father used to do the same thing.
At this point he had been dead for about 10 years.
Boom. Not only did my burgers have a name, they brought back vague memories came back to me of when I was a small boy and it was Dad’s turn to cook (this was 30+ years ago).
Have pleasant food-related (or perhaps, induced) memories? Don’t be shy, share them in the comments section at the top of this post!