Sometimes I wish I had a fancy vocabulary. There are moments, like this one, where I would benefit from having some eloquent and vibrantly descriptive words in my unexpansive vocabulary. I could then adequately describe how fucking delicious the cheeseburger I ate this weekend was and how fucking awesome I am for eating the entire thing. But I am realizing that I am talking about a cheeseburger in Chicago so the F word is probably completely appropriate.
Also, please forgive the picture quality…I am in a restaurant in the dark, a tiny drunk, with an iPhone.
I don’t have a lot of “things.” As in, I don’t have a “thing” for shoes or a “thing” for purses or a “thing” for guys with money or guys with hair or a tall guy “thing.” But I do have a thing for cheeseburgers, and my trainer will laughingly tell you I spend far too much of my workout sessions talking about how badly I want to be eating a cheeseburger instead of doing squats.
Au Cheval’s cheeseburger has been named the best burger in the country over the past year by several food magazines, web sites and blogs. And I have waited five god damn months to go there, mainly for two reasons, first, because I don’t know a lot of people who will wait two plus hours for a cheeseburger, and second, because I thought if I waited until I was at my absolute thinnest and a week away from wearing a bikini on a romantic vacation in Maui (he says it is the most romantic ever), I would be more likely to want to finish the entire thing. Getting this skinny for Hawaii has made me real f—king hungry.I was a lucky enough girl to find my neighbor besties to go here after work Friday. I arrived early, anticipating a huge wait for a table (there’s about 15 tables in the whole place). The wait was only an hour and a half so I parked myself at the bar for a few beers, cause getting drunk alone at a restaurant seems so cool to me. The man next to me went into great detail about the burger I was about to eat while I easily went through a few IPAs. He also told me to skip the fries and go for the hash browns that were cooked in duck fat. Wtf, of course I am getting both fries and the hash browns.
When my girlfriends arrived, I had sampled my new bar friend’s beer, his order of hash browns and shot of something the bartender told me would make me “more fun” than I already was…awesome.
The double cheeseburger, I read, was the one to get and the bacon here was about the size of a slab of ham so of course I had to get that. When my server asked me if I wanted a fried egg on my duck fat hash browns, I was at the “more fun” portion of evening and said “ummmm yes I do.”
And that would be three burgers and a slab of bacon, plus all the sweet homemade pickles I ever wanted. And I ate the whole thing. I mean, all of the burgers, the bacon, the bun, the pickles on it, all the hash browns all the egg…like my body weight pretty much in cheeseburger and sides. I got a well-deserved high five from the server, I did that good. Sorry Hawaii and sorry first romantic trip we are taking together (though it may be the last after this), but I don’t even care, it was that good.
This is the part where I am lost for words. It was just f—ing delicious. You have to have one to understand. In fact, have one, and tell me your best words to describe your experience…maybe I can learn some new words.
Au Cheval. Go here. Preferably a week before you take a Hawaiian vacation with your new boyfriend for the first time ever.
Next up, Maui for 12 whole days (don’t worry you will read all about it) and I am bringing a real camera…hopefully the bikini still fits 🙂