Ingredients
1lb Lean beef
A stick of butter
American cheese
Salt and pepper to taste
While the grill is preheating, break up the ground beef in a large bowl. Get your hands in there. Don’t be shy. Roll the meat into balls and then flatten it into patties on a wooden cutting board. Not too thick.
When my uncle came home from Iraq we celebrated with a cookout. After all, what’s a better symbol of freedom than warm soda, a rusty grill, and fading plastic chairs sinking softly into Bermuda grass. Dad made burgers while my uncle passed his phone around. He showed off photos of smiling soldiers, nameless desert towns, and dead men propped up like hunted deer.
Take your stick of butter and rub the end on the hot grill to soften it. Spread the softened butter on both sides of the patties and place them on the grill. Don’t press the meat into the grill with a spatula. Let it rest.
I don’t know what my uncle ate on deployment. Only that the acrid stench of gunpowder made each day smell like the Fourth of July. And that all he wanted when he got home was a Goddamn cheeseburger. A few thousand calories to heal the soul. But dad botched them that day. The kind of meat so charred it leaves your gums bleeding.
Cook for 3 minutes then turn. Season with salt and pepper, then place a single slice of American cheese on the patty. Cook for another 3 minutes then remove.
He spoke casually about night raids and IEDs. How he and his battle buddies kept themselves entertained. They lifted weights, played cards, and watched the same movies over and over on scratched DVDs. Hours of boredom punctuated by intense violence. Gunfights. Bench presses. Suicide bombers. Texas Hold ‘Em. Air strikes. The first forty minutes of The Matrix.
Place the burger on a bun, I prefer a soft potato bread. Top with mustard and pickles.
Tearing at the burnt meat with gritted teeth, he told me he wanted to run for Sherriff. Ten years later he’d be diagnosed with PTSD and fired from his job as a county deputy. The world would fracture around him a thousand times. But not that day.
Eat for everyone you’ve lost. And everyone you’ve loved. Feel the bones beneath your skin itching. It’s just the entropy. One day you’ll break apart. But not today. Today you’ll have a cheeseburger.
