05 July 2011

That's What Cheese Said (or Happy birthday, America! Welcome to my heart attack!)

Back in March, I shared the transcendent experience of the YOUCANHASCHEESEBURGER. It is a delicacy that I haven't been able to get out of my mind since then. The problem is that my wife and I don't live in Portland and finding a food truck conglomerate like the one available there isn't something we're privy to here in the Inland Empire. Or I just haven't made a strong effort to look. Regardless, even when Angela and I have traveled to specialty burger joints (like Slaters 50/50 in Anaheim), there hasn't been a reasonable facsimile they offer.

Finally, my wife had enough. She makes a mean grilled cheese sandwich and always includes a tiny bit of garlic salt while readying the bread to make it her own. Angela said that if I could come up with a name for our version of the YOUCANHASCHEESEBURGER, then she'd make it for our inaugural Fourth of July Explodesavaganza.

"Can we put bacon on it?" I asked.


"What about avocado? Avocado is so awesome."


"And we'll get tomatoes?"

Of course.

I have the greatest wife in the world.

My Netflix time has been dedicated to watching episodes of The Office recently, so after some careful deliberation, the idea for That's What Cheese Said was born. Angela also decided to make mac & cheese in the slow cooker, which is what really makes this burger shine. Our friends brought over their baby to hang out for the barbecue, and Nick had the genius idea to include the mac & cheese with the burger. During that brief time it took to wolf this sucker down, nothing was wrong in the world. Diseases were cured, war ended and poverty was a thing of the past all for that short period where That's What Cheese Said went from the red disposable plate on our kitchen table down to my belly. It's such a rich and decadent experience, that for the benefit of our waistlines and hearts, Angela and I have decided that this should be a tradition, but only an annual tradition. Seriously, can you imagine eating this more than once a year? I would be happy, but there isn't enough gym time or cardio-kickboxing classes in the world available to counteract the effects.

When they left later that evening, Nick remarked, "Thanks for taking those years off the end of my life."

Eh, those are the years that usually suck anyway. I regret nothing.

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