The Erotic Satisfaction Of A Bacon Cheeseburger

We're programed. Twelve noon, best eat lunch. Six o'clock, time for dinner. How often though, at those times are you really hungry? Sure, there's that slight "twinge" that causes you to utter the famous phase of "sure, I could eat" and then there is that hunger, that gut twisting, mouth salivating, echoing growl screaming at you from the black hole depths of your gullet that it hasn't just been hours, it's been DECADES since you last ate, and although any nutritional substance will keep you alive, only one food will do. Nothing else matters.

That food that you must have, at any cost.....is a bacon cheeseburger.

Last Sunday afternoon, this "hunger" crept up on me, slowly....like waking up on Sunday morning. First, the twitch of a foot, the shift of a shoulder, the sunshine growing brighter through the window. Can't be avoided for long. As my hunger grew deeper, I mentally ran through the current quick fixes of what was in my refrigerator for immediate consumption. Leftover Swedish meatballs? Nah. Potato Salad? Eeh. Cheddar cheese squares and Cracked Pepper Triscuits? Boring. Then it hit....I had to....I mean had to....have a hamburger....no.....I needed a bacon cheeseburger. Badly.

I had a 16 mile training run that morning, so I had justification. I could give in. Indulge. It's not like this food item was on my regular menu. This time, there would be no guilt. It has been a while since a burger graced my lips. Like seeing an old childhood friend from across the street, you don't say hello because you wouldn't know where to begin....but a few nice memories instantly pop into mind.

That's it. It's on. If you are going to eat a burger, eat a burger. The idea of going to a McDonald's is like the idea of marrying Charlie Sheen....you just know it will end badly. In my neighborhood, if you want a good burger, you go to an Irish pub on the corner of North Ave. & Wells Street, called Corcrans. A five-star steak from a cow that spent it's short life relaxing in a field of tiger lilies sipping champagne. Ground and charcoal grilled into the most mouth-watering piece of bovine flesh imaginable.

When Jesus comes back to earth to take us all to our eternal home....he'll stop at Corcran's for a burger first.

I sat in that sunshine evening on the back patio of my favorite Chicago Irish pub, my two hands wrapped around one half of my long awaited friend, my fingers pressing slightly into it's soft pretzel roll outer shell. Bringing it to my lips the layers stared at me. The salty soft bun, warm, brown, pink, brown. The orange melted glimmer of the cheddar cheese, folding over and into the center. The juicy glistening of the bacon, smoke and apple and peppery tang of the barbecue sauce. Not too much, just enough.

I happily collapse into my first bite, and it's everything my hunger promised and more. My eyes gently close and I take it all in. Every flavor speaks to me of the highest happiness. My husband's smile, a beautifully lit Christmas tree by a warm fireplace, Clark St. after the Cubs won the pennant. Heaven on earth.

The evening continued, mixing bites of pure deliciousness in between random conversation with my friend Lindsey, sips of my "black-n-blue" (half Blue Moon and half Guinness) and upward glances at the Sunday night football on the surrounding flat screen TVs.

As the sky grew dark and the stars came out, I gladly paid the check and walked into the night the most ultimate form of content. A content mixed with a gratefulness that won't soon be forgotten.

Hungry?