SAVED... from a Cheeseburger in Paradise
I want to tell you a story of joy and woe, of tragedy and comedy, spanning the depths of despair and the triumph of the human spirit... it's a story about a cheeseburger ... in Paradise.
The hero of this story is my friend JS (and he doesn't even know it). A few months ago we were all eating a meal together, and I ordered a bacon cheeseburger; extra bloody (as rare as the law allows). JS heard my order and lectured me, "Katie, don't you know that you should NEVER order a hamburger anything less than medium - you could get food poisoning!" I scoffed, I doubted, and I made the quite salient (or so I thought) point that I always ordered my burgers rare, and had never had any problems before. To which he responded, "Okay, raise your hands if you've ever had a rare neurological disorder ... oh, just Katie? Good, glad that rare hamburger thing is working out for you." While I thought that this was an UNNECESSARILY snarky comment to make, and I'm pretty darn sure there isn't a link between GBS and undercooked meat, I took his point - why invite disaster just for an extra taste of yummy rare beef?
So fast forward to last night, where some friends and I decided we would go out to dinner the night before our genetics exam (you gotta eat, and come on, it's genetics!). We went to a theme restaurant called Cheeseburger in Paradise (I kid you not) for the kitsch factor and cuz' we needed a laugh. Upon a glance at the menu, I decided on the apropriately named "Cheeseburger in Paradise" burger, and sat back to enjoy the dulcet tunes of Jimmy Buffet (I kid you not) as I waited for the waitress to come. When it was my turn to order, the waitress asked how I wanted my burger done. I immediately (almost uncontrollably) spouted out "medium rare!", but then I paused. JS's words about food poisoning came back to me, and I could almost hear the sound of angels singing and divine fate intervening and .... I CHANGED MY MIND! I told the waitress, "Wait! No! I want it Medium!" and sat back to contemplate what just happened. Medium? I NEVER order medium. I always get rare or medium rare, as a rule. I like my meat red - I can't stand overcooked food. But somehow I ordered medium.
This morning, as we were all chatting and waiting to take our genetics exams, I found out that the guy sitting next to me (who ordered his burger rare) got really bad food poisoning, and had to miss the exam. While I felt really sorry for him, I couldn't help but feel grateful that I was snatched from the jaws of disaster by a last minute memory of helpful advice received many months earlier.
And that, my friends, is a dramatic tale of woe and triumph. With that also, may I just say YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Exams are over and it's time for my VACATION!!!!!
:-)
The hero of this story is my friend JS (and he doesn't even know it). A few months ago we were all eating a meal together, and I ordered a bacon cheeseburger; extra bloody (as rare as the law allows). JS heard my order and lectured me, "Katie, don't you know that you should NEVER order a hamburger anything less than medium - you could get food poisoning!" I scoffed, I doubted, and I made the quite salient (or so I thought) point that I always ordered my burgers rare, and had never had any problems before. To which he responded, "Okay, raise your hands if you've ever had a rare neurological disorder ... oh, just Katie? Good, glad that rare hamburger thing is working out for you." While I thought that this was an UNNECESSARILY snarky comment to make, and I'm pretty darn sure there isn't a link between GBS and undercooked meat, I took his point - why invite disaster just for an extra taste of yummy rare beef?
So fast forward to last night, where some friends and I decided we would go out to dinner the night before our genetics exam (you gotta eat, and come on, it's genetics!). We went to a theme restaurant called Cheeseburger in Paradise (I kid you not) for the kitsch factor and cuz' we needed a laugh. Upon a glance at the menu, I decided on the apropriately named "Cheeseburger in Paradise" burger, and sat back to enjoy the dulcet tunes of Jimmy Buffet (I kid you not) as I waited for the waitress to come. When it was my turn to order, the waitress asked how I wanted my burger done. I immediately (almost uncontrollably) spouted out "medium rare!", but then I paused. JS's words about food poisoning came back to me, and I could almost hear the sound of angels singing and divine fate intervening and .... I CHANGED MY MIND! I told the waitress, "Wait! No! I want it Medium!" and sat back to contemplate what just happened. Medium? I NEVER order medium. I always get rare or medium rare, as a rule. I like my meat red - I can't stand overcooked food. But somehow I ordered medium.
This morning, as we were all chatting and waiting to take our genetics exams, I found out that the guy sitting next to me (who ordered his burger rare) got really bad food poisoning, and had to miss the exam. While I felt really sorry for him, I couldn't help but feel grateful that I was snatched from the jaws of disaster by a last minute memory of helpful advice received many months earlier.
And that, my friends, is a dramatic tale of woe and triumph. With that also, may I just say YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Exams are over and it's time for my VACATION!!!!!
:-)
posted by Katie Grouse at 11:37 AM
3 Comments:
I can't but feel a sense of relief at missing hte adventure; I ALSO get my ground meat medium rare! Maybe Jimmy Buffet should consult his restaurant about NOT making his cheeseburgers out of bovine rectums!
another narrow escape in paradise for our half-baked heroine . . . except that no amount of over-cooking will allow you to escape from the electricity-less, wind swept, tree-littered, stone age conditions prevailing in the northwest when you get out here for Christmas, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha . . . . despair all ye who enter . . .
OK, now its just tree-littered, can't help that. The Christmas miracle of "Power" has been restored. Come home!
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