Cooked Deader Than Dead
It has been unseasonably warm this February. This evening I decided to grill some burgers while drinking a few PBRs on the patio. Charlotte came over, and after running to the Winn Dixie with Mason I assembled the patties in the kitchen. I made sure Becky’s and Charlotte’s were thin in an effort to ensure any trace of pink would be erradicated.
Cooking burgers for my wife and mother-in-law is maddening. Some people like their beef well done, but they enjoy theirs’ incinerated. I put their burgers on medium-high heat and waited 10 minutes before flipping them over. 10 additional minutes on the other side yeilded a charred disc. To be perfectly sure it was dead I cooked fhem another 2 minutes while making sure mine was grilled rare. I honestly feel bad grilling meat into a charcoal briquet. I have no idea what meat bordering on the edge of carbon taste like, but imagine I could substitute horse, armadillo, or possum, and they couldn’t tell the difference.
Two beers and 22 minute later it was time to eat. When they saw their burgers they remarked how much smaller they were than mine. I chuckled and told them that was what happened to ground chuck when you removed all the moisture! The best part was each of them inspected their burgers to make sure there was no pink. A burger cooked rare with just cheddar cheese and ketchup is a magnificent thing and they have no idea what they are missing!