When I was in college, I lived the typical money-less life of a student. The ends barely met each month leaving me with only a few coins left - one month I remember it was exactly 27 cents - before I could buy food again. During these lean times, I developed a rotating schedule of foods that 1. I could afford, 2. stretched the farthest lasting for several days, and 3. brought me some nutrition.
Do any of these sound familiar to you? Tuna noodle casserole? A can of Roundy's tuna, a bag of egg noodles, a can of Campbell's cream of something soup, and some frozen peas. That meal lasted for a full week. Then, the next week, I would pick up some beef liver. For about 89 cents, and a bit extra for an onion, I had food for another week and a load of iron to keep my body moving. Triscuits and cream cheese, anyone? Ramen noodles and bananas - not to be eaten as a dish, but just those two items made up one week's worth of groceries.
One day when I was 19 years old, I was hanging out with a good friend at his parents' house. They were gone for the day, and we spent most of the time playing video games in their basement. Very old school video games, it was the 1980s. I do not remember any of the names, but more modern than Pong. Anyway, when we walked back up the steps, I was a bit dizzy. He asked me, "When was the last time you ate?"
It was one of those end-of-the-month times when I had no money. The food we (me and my group of friends) scurried away from the times we went to a restaurant to split a meal had run out. No saltine crackers or leftover pickles for me that week. Another friend worked at a restaurant and supplied us with bread that would otherwise have been thrown out at the end of the night. Those supplies and a jar of peanut butter stretched for months as a back up to the planned meal schedule. And, they tasted delicious!
On this particular day, no breakfast was found in my cupboard. I certainly was not starving, but I was hungry.
"Yesterday," I said, a little defensive. I hated being pitied, found out, scolded, told what to do.... I was not sure which of these was going to be lobbed at me, so my natural defenses were up.
"Sit down," he said gesturing to the kitchen chair.
"Why?" I said as I hrumphed, crossed my arms, and flounced down onto the chair with my left foot beneath me.
"I am going to make you the best burger you ever had," he said as he went into action grabbing items around the kitchen, clanging pans, rustling bread bags, opening and closing the refrigerator.
I am a questioner. I also am a talker - fast talker, constant talker, babbler - until I am uncomfortable or exhausted, and then I say nothing. So, I threw a plethora of questions at him.
"What makes it the best burger? Is it a special kind of meat? Is it the bun? What do you put in it? My mom makes pizza burgers and puts pasta sauce in the meat and sprinkles parmesan cheese on top? Are you making a pizza burger? Do you have Grey Poupon? Will there be pickles? I really am not big on pickles. I don't hate them or anything. How about cheese? My favorite is cheddar..." as I rambled on, he held up one hand.
"Quiet. Just relax and leave everything to me," he said and continued cooking.
It was fall, my favorite season, only I did not know it was my favorite yet. This memory may be one of the many reasons for that. The air was crisp. The sun shined outside. A breeze wandered around stealthily but I sensed it. I knew it was there. Calmness drifted from the outside to inside the kitchen and back outside again. Calmness stayed in me as I set there and waited for the best burger I would ever eat.
In ten minutes or two hours - time drifted out of consciousness for me while I waited, so I am not sure - a plate appeared in front of me with a smallish hamburger on an also smallish bun. It was a little thing indeed! There were no pickles, onions, cheese, mustard, tomatoes. None of those adornments. Just this little burger on a little bun. I looked up at my friend's beaming face and said, "Thank you."
I took the first bite. Soft bread, juicy meat cooked perfectly filled my mouth in an equally perfect, beautiful bite. It was delicious! A stream of juice trickled down my chin requiring the services of a napkin. The cloth had been thoughtfully placed next to the plate. All my simple needs met so simply. I ate the burger leisurely, savoring the taste, smell, texture, and the silence of the moment.
When I finished eating, he said, "Well?"
"That was absolutely the best burger I ever had! What was in it?" I said.
"Love," he replied. He threw the word out like something ordinary - coat, pickle, floor - love. Not ordinary to me. Extraordinary!
I threw my arms around him and hugged him. We both laughed.
This is an actual, true story. The best burger I ever ate was made with love.
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