No sauce please

No bacon, no beetroot, just the burger in a bun with cheese. And the lettuce and tomato on the side…and no sauce – I prefer to add that myself.

Because burger customisation is a modern consumer’s prerogative. Gone are the days when I would have to wait 20 minutes holding up the well established production line for someone to pluck every pickle slice and dust off the mustard from my Big Mac, nowadays a ‘plain cheeseburger’ is a perfectly acceptable variation. And with such a wide range of options it makes sense that flexibility should be an important ingredient in the recipe for tasty burger success.

So it was with great assurance and furious hunger that I set about ordering my latest burger. Emotions in this particular situation are exacerbated by the heightened sense of anticipation as I watch my companions receiving mouth-watering feasts all around me while I wait patiently in appreciation of the extra time and effort being invested in my minimalist meal. Finally, just when I’m beginning to fear that my stomach rumblings are audible over the DJ’s sound system, mouth watering with a hunger preserved since lunchtime, it appears, plate bursting with sustenance, a veritable dream-burger…Play it cool, marvel at the creativity of the square bun, slowly munch a chip or two (too much salt, but that doesn’t matter), and then one big happy bite…

…And that turned out to be the only bite I could take. I could almost feel my digestive juices sighing and trudging back to their hidi-holes as the rapture became repulsion.

The dimmed lighting and fancy presentation (the square bun not so clever now) couldn’t distract from the glaring molecules of blood-infused pinkness staring up at me from the meat patty.

In adapting the prescribed burger on the menu in suede bar (http://www.suedebar.com) to my own peculiar tastes I must’ve upset the chef… with all my individual specifications I never thought I would need to state a requirement for the burger to be actually cooked!

The surrounding empty plates suggested that others’ burger-eating experiences hadn’t been quite so traumatic (and provided a useful outlet for redistribution of my inedible leftovers (didn’t want this crazy chef to think that I hadn’t enjoyed his effort!)).

And although the taste could be washed away by the remedial qualities of Corona, the psychological scars remain. It’ll be at least a week of chicken nuggets and cheese toasties before I’m back on the burger wagon…