Why would any moron come to a burger joint and order chicken?
Call me a nitwit. Call me beefed out. Despite M’s glowing recommendations and the 685 burger variations on the menu, both hubby and I ordered something else. For him, I plead a full belly from the ribs he grilled for lunch. For me, it was the burger I’d had the night before. Either way, we took other directions. In fact, only M ordered a burger, which came loaded with melted cheese and accompanied by an impressive pile of fries. I learned an important lesson here: friends know more than menus. This burger was clearly well over seven ounces. It was rounded, perfectly grilled, wafting a delicious aroma, and completely enticing. Not bad for about $7. C, M’s wife, went Tex-Mex and ordered the chicken quesadilla, which came with large servings of sour cream and guacamole. She ate half, and I had no temptation to ask for a taste of the rest of it: the quesadilla looked raw. The tortilla showed no signs of grilling or warmth. It was white and bland looking. The quesadilla is available plain o
