Burger du Jour
by Doug Dawson
Hi, Doc. How
am I doing? Everybody asks you that nowadays and
it almost sounds like a challenge and something
one had better give the current response to, or
else one is in trouble. (pause) What do I mean by
that? Give you an example: came home from work
yesterday and this guy shows up at my front door
wearing the uniform, I call it. You know,
baseball cap and some sort of Verizon, PEPCO, BGE,
Xfinity, T-Mobile, Mint Mobile, Alibaba, Apple or
some other company outfit and the second I see
him I roll my eyes, thinking ‘just what I
need, another salesman’ and I flinch as I
wait for the inevitable ‘How are you?’
I open the door – which was a mistake, by
the way – and he asks me the inevitable
‘How are you?’ at which point I just
say ‘I don’t have to answer any
questions,’ and he says ‘Have a nice
day’ and runs off. I didn’t give him
the right answer, see? I didn’t follow the
script.”
Now what’s
wrong with people asking how are you?” posed
the doctor. “That the normal way to open a
conversation.
I’m just
sick of it,” say I. “And nobody cares
how you are – they just want your money.
Every telemarketer who pesters you on the phone
starts off that way, so if you ever, ever pick up
the phone and the person on the other end of the
line asks ‘how are you?’ that’s
your cue to hang up, unless you want to waste
your time on these pests.”
“Ok, now
that we’ve settled that,” said the
therapist, why are we here today? Usually, you
have something a little more substantial to tell
me.”
Oh, it’s
substantial you want. I’ll give you
substantial; it’s my Uncle Philbin, now he
was substantial.”
How was he
substantial?”
“He
substantially disrupted me, my family, two
policemen and in effect, the whole neighborhood.”
And how did he
do that?”
Well, suffice
it to say he’d stand on the front porch and
make loud noises – loud enough to disrupt
the neighbors and bring the police.”
What sort of
noises?”
“Let’s
just say we call him ‘the grizzly bear’
and leave it at that.”
Okay, we’ll
leave it at that, but it sounds like something is
still bothering you – what is it?”
Maybe it’s
just my life; I’m worn out – taking
care of my parents and my family, dealing with
the grizzly bear and I’m still not over him.”
“How are
you not over him?”
It’s his
dumb stories. I listened to them all and even
believed a lot of them until I realized their all,
as the British might put it, a load of rubbish.
They’re so dumb – especially the last
one.”
“Can you
tell it to me? Maybe after I’ve heard it, I’ll
understand why this uncle and his stories are
unsettling you.”
“Okay, it
goes like this: One night the kids were in bed
and my wife turned in early. It’s just me
and Uncle Philbin, each of us having a beer and
watching TV. All at once he gets up, turns off
the Telly – am I sounding British now?
– and says to me: I got to tell you a story.’
Now I didn’t care too much for what was on
the TV anyway, so I says to him, ‘all right
– let’s hear your story’ and the
way Uncle Philbin tells it, it goes like this.”
“One time
I was driving way out west, when I was a younger
man, that is. I was still with my wife back then
and our daughter was living away at college. So,
we’re on this trip and we’re both
hungry, so we stop in this little diner type
place – Joe’s Diner, I think it was and
now that I think of it, I’m sure that’s
what it was. We sache in, in a manner of speaking,
we see a booth, we plop ourselves down in said
booth, the waitress sees us, she brings us the
menu and no, it’s nothing like “Five
Easy Pieces,” with Jack Nicholson ordering
what’s not on the menu, telling the waitress
to hold everything else and then throwing a
tantrum when he doesn’t get what wasn’t
on the menu in the first place. I mean we cast a
stern eye at this bill of fare in this out-of-the-way
place, not expecting continental, exotic, world-class
offerings, but the menu – the menu, I say
again - was something else, something we didn’t
expect in a joint like this. Now the food here is
no doubt mundane, run-of-the-mill, quotidian, hum-drum,
work-a-day … to call it ordinary is giving
it …”
Okay,”
said the therapist. “I understand - the menu
is very plain.”
No, doc –
you’re talking about the food – that’s
pretty plain, but I’m talking menu here and
get a load of this: it’s divided into two
parts; the one side says “A La Cate Dining,”
like you are in a five-star eatery, and let’s
make that The Brass Rail in downtown Manhattan.
And the other side of the menu says – drum
roll – “Du Jour Menu” – hey,
you aren’t laughing – what’s wrong?
So, let’s get to the food and once again we
are talking plain and ordinary here: the “A
La Carte” menu lists your basic sandwiches
– your ham and cheese, your basic club
sandwich - complete with toothpicks to hold the
pieces together, your grilled Rueben on rye, your
basic chili – with the possibility of cheese,
no less, your basic grilled cheese, with your
choice of white or wheat bread and then there’s
your desserts menu, which consists of your basic
lemon or apple pie and your choice of vanilla or
chocolate ice cream, with the possibility of nuts
and a cherry on top.”
I didn’t
know that along with a discussion of a very odd
uncle and his motor trip out West, I’d be
treated to a listing of the entire menu of Joe’s
Diner. It’s making me hungry – maybe we
should end this session early and go out to lunch.”
“Sounds
like a plan, doc but you haven’t heard the
best part. And here it comes, the jewel in their
crown, their magnum opus, their claim to fame,
their tour-de-force, their piece-of-resistance:
Ta da! It’s on the “Du Jour” side
of the menu and it’s the Burger du Jour!”
Ever heard of that?”
“Can’t
say as I have. I’ve heard of soup du jour
...”
“Of
course you have, doc - you’re a man of the
world, a boulevardier, a bon vivant, a
sophisticate, a cosmopolitan, a flaneur, a ….”
“You and
your big words. Quit showing off your vocabulary
and say what you have to say and be done with it,
will you?”
“Will I?
You bet I will and back to my uncle’s story
and he put it like this.”
“First,
let me mention that there are not one, not two
but several Du Jour items you can get here –
the place is a veritable Horn of Plenty. There’s
the Burger Du Jour, the Soup du Jour and now for
the topper – the Jell-O du Jour. You’re
still not laughing doc – this a bad day or
something? Let’s briefly revisit the Burger
du Jour. As the waitress explained it to me, it’s
a plain burger with lettuce, tomato, and the
usual doses of salt, pepper and a little fancy
ketchup. Now what makes it “du Jour,”
you’re no doubt wonder? Well, every day when
Joe goes to the market to buy his hamburger meat,
he gets something a little different: one day it’s
ground chuck, the next day ground beef, the next
day it’s sirloin, the next day the meat is
prime rib and so on.
“The
waitress explained the “Burger de Jour
concept as follows” We not only use
different meat every day, by Joe flavors it a
little differently: one day he puts a little
Lowry salt in for flavor, the next day a little
lemon juice, the next day some paprika and other
herbs and the next day something else, so you
never know exactly what it will be. Whatever he
puts in it, it’s subtle, but it’s there.
People who order our Burger du Jour seem to like
the surprise, the change, the magic, if you will,
so that’s why we keep it on the menu. I
asked about the soups du Jour and was told they
are Campbell’s Chunky canned soups – no
homemade soups here. And as for the Jell-O du
Jour – what is there to say? It’s just
your standard packet of Wal-Mart’s own brand,
their Great Value Jell-O mix, but a different
flavor every day, so you never know what you’re
going to get.
Before I leave
this subject, which is no doubt making you
hungrier ever minute, let me mention one more
thing from the “A La Carte Dining” menu
– it’s Joe’s selection of burgers.
There’s your “Plain-As-Day Burger”
– just a patty on a bun – you add your
own salt, pepper, ketchup, mustard or whatever
you want. Then there is the “Chili-On-Top-Burger,”
a patty with a smattering of chili on top, and it’s
their own special recipe – with their own
‘secret sauce,’ mind you. They have a
very nice “Vegetable Medley Burger,”
with lettuce, tomato, onions, mushrooms and a few
sprigs of parsley on top, with a twist of lemon
– minus the rind - mixed in there somewhere.
Lest you think we’re running out of options,
there is the “Oktober Fest Burger,” and
that is the spelling they use and made with beer
for flavoring. They even have a delectable-sounding
Steak-Burger,” which is a small Delmonico
steak on a bun, and it’s topped with A1
steak sauce. There is also Joe’s Triple
Cheese Burger, with Swiss, American and another
cheese he chooses. If you think you’ve heard
them all, think again: if you’re really
hungry there is the house special, the “Joe’s
Diner Burger Special;” 18 ounces of meat,
and it’s so big the burger hangs over the
sides of the extra-large Kaiser roll. Not only
that, it’s got Thousand Island dressing,
chopped onions, chopped mushrooms a large slice
of “killer tomato” and an optional
slice of extra-sharp cheddar cheese.
“When we
were finished eating Joe came over to see if we
liked the food. I said “food’s great,
Joe, but I never expected to see terns like
“a la carte” and “du Jour” on
a diner’s menu.”
Oh, that was
my idea,” said Joe, proudly. You see my mom
came from people with money and she was used to
dining in fine restaurants and took me to places
like that, so I got used to that terminology. I
wanted to go to Paris and study French cooking
when I grew up, but the way things worked out I
married young, started having kids and had to go
to work right away, so with a little help from my
folks I opened this place and I’ve been here
ever since.
Well, maybe
you didn’t make it to Paris, but you serve
good food and you’ve managed to give a
little Old World, European flavor to this place,
the way you set up the menu – and I like the
idea of a different burger every time - always a
surprise.”
“Joe
thanked me for the kind words about his menu and
we walked out, never to return.”
“Ok,”
the doctor said. “All right, but some of
those offerings sound like nonsense and I get it
that Joe’s Diner has a good selection of
burgers. But did the menu really say
“Burger du Jour?”
According to
Uncle Philbin, it sure did and you can call
things du Jour and A La Carte if you
know what you’re doing, if you know
what you’re talking about, if you’re
on top of things, if …”
“If, if,
if – you’re babbling again - just
listening to yourself talk.”
How dare you?
Just kidding, doc. You see, it’s when
somebody who doesn’t know what he’s
talking about does this stuff – you know,
the du Jour thing, that he gets himself in
trouble. It’s the pretension of this place
that got to me. It’s really kind of a
masterpiece of a misnomer - I mean who in the
world ever heard of a ‘Burger du Jour? That’s
like ordering a glass of water du Jour, like
which brand of bottled water do you have? Sounds
as stupid as banana du Jour. It’s brilliant,
actually - kind of like something Mrs. Malaprop
might have said out loud.
“I
remember that name – it’s from a play
and you were about to quote it, right?”
I was, but how
did you know that?”
It doesn’t
require a Sherlock Holmes – remember him?
You work in every big word and every quote you’ve
ever wrapped your head around, so whenever I hear
a proper noun, I know there’s a quote from a
book, a play, a movie or a song or else there’s
another little story coming.”
“Guilty
as changed. But Uncle Philbin gets in the last
word. After he told me that story about Joe’s
Diner, he said to me “No more places that
think they’re fancy or continental, or
whatever they think they are. From now on, when I’m
in the middle of nowhere I’m going to stick
to places that just say “EAT” or “FOOD”
or “REST STOP.” Now I’m done.”
“Good
story, and it was nice of Uncle Philbin not to
let Joe think his menu was silly – might’ve
let the air out his tires, so to speak. Now take
two aspirins and call me in the morning … (long
pause) … just kidding. I almost forgot about
the basic thing that seems to be bothering you,
the reason you started coming to me – you
still haven’t spelled it out. Can you do
that now?”
“I think
I’m just worn out, doc. A lifetime of taking
care of people – first my parents, then my
family and then Uncle Philbin. He’s gone,
but the after-effects of his presence and his
nonsense are still with me.”
“From
what you told me it sounds like he more or less
took care of himself – you know, pulled his
own weight and so forth.”
“It was
the weirdness, doc – it wears on you. I was
already worn out, then he shows up with his sob
story about having no place to go, so we took him
in and then it was the cops and the neighbors
after us and then there was this horrible belch
in my house – I can’t take it anymore.”
Forget the two
aspirin, I’m writing you a prescription for
something that I think will calm your nerves. I
want you to take some time off, if you can, get
this prescription filled, take two of them every
day and call me in two weeks and let me know how
you’re doing. One more thing.”
“What’s
that.”
“Better
keep away from Uncle Philbin – I don’t
care how good his stories are.”
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