It takes me over two hours to eat a banana as I punch away at the keys during work. I call up salons asking for their information for a "Beauty Guide." Everyone thinks I'm calling to sell ad space. I'm not, really. I wouldn't even know how to do that. So I press on. "It's free ad space for your salon or spa. It doesn't cost you anything." They start answering questions and getting picky about words.
I know that by the time I finish with this uncomfortable sensory experience with the banana, it'll be lunchtime and the banana will be forgotten in light of the chicken carbonara pasta awaiting consumption in the freezer. I put it next to an enchilada Lean Cuisine so that it isn't mistakenly eaten by another health-conscious, yet too-lazy-to-bring-a-salad coworker. (I brought a side salad for health and vitality. Plus it was leftover leaf lettuce that needed to be eaten.) It seems that both of the freezers are stuffed with Lean Cuisines. Target must have been having a sale. And all the meals are labeled with female names. Liz, Tanya, Michele. Men don't eat Lean Cuisine. They eat Asian takeout leftovers, meatloaf their wives made and homemade pasta casseroles.
But I eat the banana not for taste reasons. I really don't care for them. However, they are naturally prepackaged, filling and full of vitamins--it's still not very convincing. They can't be that healthy if they are that color. Besides, the texture is pretty unimpressive.They're like avocados, "And, who wants that texture in their mouth?" Still, I mow it down knowing my muscles will thank me with fewer Charlie horses.
I remember the great sensory experience I had last night. Ah, the burger. It could have been that I was excited to eat red meat since I had foregone it for a two-week period. Or it could be that I had head about Burger Jones from a reliable source (MPLS/St. Paul Magazine, you know what I mean), but the facts of last evening remain: Burger Jones makes a tasty burger. My dinner date put it this way. "They make the patty by packing it just right. Not crumbly, but not too tight, so the juice forms little pockets that end up mostly in your mouth and some on your plate." (Note: The quote is not verbatim, though it's pretty close. Thank you journalism for your excellent skill building.)
Anyhow, I ordered a bacon cheeseburger, which according to Robin our waitress, is the second most popularly ordered burger on the menu. Rating numero uno: The Black and Blue burger. The BCB (bacon cheeseburger) came with veggie fixin's and we split a side of parmasian dusted waffle fries. My affinity for parmisan cheese typically stops right before a waiter asks me, "Would you like parmisan cheese on your ravioli?" To which I reply, "No, never." I usually dislike parmisan, but on the fries, it was excellent. And they were equally crispy and tender, savory but not overwhelming. Though we split a side of those, there were plenty for two.
Back to the BCB. I dressed mine with tomato, lettuce, sauteed onions, mayo, catchup and pickles. And while some may say it isn't anything to write home about, or that "they try too hard to be an upscale burger joint," (Thank you fellow intern for weighing in) I found it definitely worth the 15 bucks (including tip).
I'll recommend Burger Jones to anyone wanting to get out of Dinkytown or the burbs, but doesn't want to pay a million dollar for a specialty burger. The atmosphere is playful, the menu is witty ("Cheese selection: Free: Government Cheese"), and the service is excellent. Kudos to you Burger Jones. I'll be there again soon.