Cheeseburger Haiku - P.J. Clarke's

I certainly have been eating a lot of burgers as of late, and I think that's why I've been stuck in a state of burger ennui. Not that I don't like eating burgers and lots of 'em, but eating burgers carries with it the responsibility of sitting down and trying to think of something clever to say about my experience, and the phrase 'too much of a good thing' comes to mind when I think about my recent burger escapades, my summer burger extravaganza, so I took a couple of weeks off from burgering and haikuing to recharge my burger batteries. Which is why this burger I ate three weeks ago is just being haikued about today.

It's been an entire year since I started cataloging every burger I've eaten--only two burgers absent from review--and a wonderful year it has been, but the rest was mucho needed. This burger lull may also be attributed to my relative busy summer schedule couple with who-the-hell-wants-to-do-burger-poetry-when-it's-this-freakin'-nice-out syndrome. I expect to get back into the swing of things soon, so look for the most explosive cheeseburger haiku of all ever.

Here's a sweet Devin Townsend song I've been rocking out to: Deconstruction. Sorry, but I I could not embed. Here's a picture of me with Cap's shield instead.

Allow me to say a few words about the most recent burger. It was the Cadillac Burger from PJ Clarke's; it cost 14 bucks. It was a really small burger and not worth 14 bucks. The rest of the menu looked delicious, and if I go back I'm not going to spend 14 bucks on a small burger, even though it was a tasty burger.

Cheeseburger Haiku - 5 Napkin Burger, Round 2

Well, there are just a few things about certain...well, about certain burgers, that I just don't like very well. That thing is, well, burgers that are well done.

So I found myself back at the Five Napkin Burger, a different location, but same pricey meats. This time I was with my gal pal's fadda, step-mudda and two bruddas, and being the free-loading chap that I am, I accompanied them to dinner. After some scintillating pre-dinner conversation about all things Bieber (I was steering the conversation, not the 14 or 12 year old boys), I ordered the bacon cheeseburger, medium. I know I said 'medium,' because I always say 'medium.' It's like my catch-phrase. The chap opposite myself--not a fan of the Bieber--also ordered a bacon cheeseburger, well done. After the waitress left I reprimanded the young lad for ordering charred meat and exhorted him to in the future get a little pink in his meat.

When the burger came I did what I always do: I woofed that sucker down. The whole family stopped at stared at me like I was some sort of animal, I should have felt more awkward, but I didn't. Woofin' burgers is just how I roll. Only halfway through the burger I realized that there was a certain suckness to the burger, it was_dun dun dun!_well done. gasp! The boy, the Bieber hatin' boy, had my medium burger. It looked all pink and succulent and juicy; mine was a hot turd between two buns. The only logical explanation is that the waitress got me confused with a 14 year old, which I guess makes much sense because I am so boyishly handsome.

The meat was overcooked and dry. The bacon and cheese were fine, as was the bread, but the burger had no soul. It was a heathen burger. And if I wasn't four beers in I wager I could have eaten the entire burger without the aid of a single napkin. There's not much else to say about my experience, except for that I hope that kid knows the great service I done did him.