There was a five month gap between when I finished season three of The Wire and when I started season four. I had a lot of stuff going on so I put off watching it. It’s a great show but I’ve never been the type to “stay up all night because I had to” with TV shows. Not my thing. I usually spread things out, although I have been compressing things with books this year with all of the serialized fiction I’ve been banging through.
A friend told me once, “I like to keep my money in my ’hood.” He was referencing his propensity to focus his dining-out experiences in about a mile radius of his house. This struck me as a pretty cool idea so I’ve started adopting it, even for non-food items.
Did you ever fantasize about having a place down the street where you can get a good burger and watch sports? Well, I think I’m living out that fantasy because the local bar, all of one block away, has a killer burger and lots of TVs and really nice people. I didn’t discover this until about a year ago, but now my arm hurts from pinching myself. Also, my jaw hurts from laughing so hard at my own jokes.
Gail has been telling me great things about this Jeffrey Archer book for years. She read it as a kid. When iBooks first came out they had it on sale for $2.99, so I bought it. This was like a year ago and I finally got around to reading it. In fact, I think this is the first book I’ve read on the iPhone, even on the Kindle app for iPhone. It was quite exciting and I enjoyed the experience immensely.
You know who can spin a yarn? Raymond Carver can. I’ve heard his name basically once on my life but it stuck with me because it was attached to something memorable. About 20 years ago my wife and I saw Short Cuts at Piper’s Alley (North and Wells) and I liked it so much that I’ve harbored a notion ever since to explore some more Raymond Carver.
This was a completely different experience from just about all of my recent burger excursions, which may have made it seem better than it actually was. I was blown away, which surprises me because I have a bias for charred half pound burgers – this was a fried, thin, sub-half pound burger. Go figure. My depth and range sometimes astonishes me. #imlying #imshallow
Pictured above is the Epic Burger single with lettuce, pickle, tomato, onion, and special sauce on whole wheat. I used this picture because the meat really shares the glory in this sandwich. Everything else is so on point (as Guy Fieri would say) – including just the right amount of special sauce, the full pickle slices, and the whole wheat bun encrusted with oats – that the relatively small size of the meat patty works perfectly. I’m always at least a little conscious of overdoing it and the double would have been messy and, quite simply, too much.
I don’t want to short the meat on accolades though. Check it out. It’s full of nooks and imperfections and a crisping on the edges that adds a lot of flavor. It has a large diameter and is pressed thin so it’s almost exactly the same diameter as the bun.
And the bun, that’s something special. The whole wheat gives it a strong flavor and the oat topping adds a crunch. It’s also considerably fewer calories than the white bun. They’ve given this thing a lot of thought. This makes two burgers recently which highlight the bun and use something smaller than the half pound patty (see Paradise Pup) and I’ve really loved them. I’m beginning to rethink certain parts of the burger code and welcoming these options.
Speaking of options, my wife had the chicken sandwich and loved it, just loved it. The fries are luscious, skin-on, golden brown, and fresh. You also have options for a fried egg, bacon, and different cheeses to top your burger. I’ve never tried their malts but I will next time. There are a handful of locations in the region so there’s a good chance I’ll blow by one soon. I think they’re here to stay. We have so many great burger chains in this town. I really love going to burger places.
Here’s their napkin if you’re interested.
It’s not cheap, at $5.99 the burger is pricier than the double at comparable local chain M Burger, but I like Epic Burger a little better (trying something different soon though at M Burger). Note also the slick calorie counter Epic has on their site. Nice touch. Nice job.
This thing was big. Just huge. I never got bored, despite it’s length and girth. The opening scene with the air hijacking was just the beginning of some crazy special effects. I think this was easily the best Batman movie ever and maybe the best superhero movie I’ve ever seen. I’m not a big fan of superhero movies though, so don’t put too much stock in that last comment.
The only drawback was that the voice manipulation for Bane and Batman was a little distracting. It was just hokey. I don’t get it, it sounded like Sean Connery talking with James Earl Jones. It seems to have served them right though so who am I to knock it.
There were two sitings of actors formerly from The Wire, if I’m not mistaken. Carcetti was the CIA guy in the opening scene and Bunny Colvin was a random army guy late in the movie. That’s cool.
How cool? Let me explain.
I saw a great article the other day called Screensavers from a publication called Prospect Magazine about a couple who watches TV together. The moral of the story is that they find the experience quite constructive. It was interesting because G and I do TV kind of like the people in the story, just in much smaller quantities. It was also cool because the author mentions this fascination with identifying characters from The Wire in other movies and TV shows. I do that.
Glad to hear I’m not too strange.
Previous to this I’d read two books by Buzz Bissinger, Friday Night Lights and Three Nights in August, two of the finest sports books ever. A little over a year ago I started following Bissinger on Twitter (@buzzbissinger) and I discovered that he had a much wider bandwidth than sports, which led me to this book, Father’s Day, one of his non-sports endeavors. It chronicles a cross-country road trip (Philly to LA) he took with his 24-year-old son Zach in 2007, who has brain damage from complications at birth. It was emotional stuff. I was moved from the get-go and it didn’t let up.
Because I follow Bissinger pretty closely, I feel like I know him. I don’t know him really, not like I know a friend, but I have at least a peek below the surface, so I’m familiar with his life in more than just a casual way. The first writer I remember following religiously as a kid was a Detroit-based sportswriter named Joe Falls, but I didn’t really know him. I didn’t care, plus there was no internet, so it was harder. In a similar vein though, I would look forward to what Falls had to say about the sports news of the day via his columns in The Sporting News and the Detroit News.
But wow, talk about getting to know someone, this book is a deep dive into Bissinger’s character. I still don’t know him, of course, but for me, this level of detail enriches every thing he writes and says. I trust him as a source of insight and analysis now more than ever. He’s a great American writer, make no mistake about it, so pay attention; don’t turn away, regardless of how profane or sordid it gets, or you’re going to miss important stuff.
He doesn’t sugarcoat anything; not in this book, not in any book, not in his columns, not on Twitter. Ever.
Why sugarcoat it? My son is mentally retarded. (Kindle loc 157)
Bissinger’s exploration of his relationship with Zach during the road trip is the core of this book. He’s in a unique place to sort through the emotions of having a child like Zach. First of all, Zach has a twin brother Gerry who was born without brain damage, giving Bissinger ample points of comparison. Secondly, Bissinger speaks his mind to a fault, apparently feeling no compunction to hold back regardless of what kind of light it shines on him. This combination of material, perception, and honesty leads to an amazing amount of insight into a beautiful relationship. Here’s what I’m talking about. It’s a moment when they’re in Milwaukee struggling to find a Kopp’s that Zach wants to eat at:
I call directory assistance to at least figure out the spelling and get an address. The silence separates. I am increasingly finding the entire trip pointless, a vain exercise in molding Zach into something he cannot be, fantasizing that the open road would lead to a greater sense of togetherness and understanding, that in our intimate privacy I would be able to bore into his soul and pull out a string of sparkles. I want a different son at this moment. I deserve a different son. I glance over at Zach and fill up with familiar self-hatred. I realize the cop was right: I do have an impairment, an emotional impairment, the anger of what happened, the helplessness, the forever haunt of watching my newborn son through a hospital window bloody and breakable. (Kindle Loc. 1842)
At times it’s gut-wrenching, painful, but it has to be this way so the reader can understand what a wonderful kid Zach is, and to understand what he can teach us about ourselves and others. I loved this next moment, often highlighted by Kindle readers, where Bissinger reflects on “liberating” his son from a menial job by finding him something in the mail room of a prestigious Philly law firm:
It wasn’t Zach’s liberation. It was mine alone, since Zach made no distinction about people as long as they were decent to him. He had no concept of status so he did not care about it. I had never ever heard him speak with malice or jealousy of anyone, which had to do with his always seeing the world in the literal and concrete without the spin of his own agenda. Which does raise the question of why it takes brain damage to be kind and honest and true instead of insecure and behind-the-back vindictive as so many of us are. Why is abstract thought so inherently vicious, too often interpreting events so they tout ourselves and condemn others? (Kindle loc. 802)
There’s more about Zach as they travel through Chicago, Milwaukee, St. Louis, Odessa, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles, but it has deviations along the way. At times it feels like a travel book, documenting quirky and interesting things about America. It has aspects of a call-for-action for better care of the mentally disabled. It could also be a handbook for parents of kids like Zach as they wrestle with important life choices regarding their children.
For me, I loved the stuff about the writing life – Bissinger’s writing life. Here’s how he felt passing the house he lived in while writing Friday Night Lights in Odessa, Texas:
It was in the house on Frederick where I wrote Friday Night Lights in 1989 and 1990 in a tiny second-floor study with a computer on one side and a corkboard filled with index cards on the other. No Internet. No smartphone. No Google. No distractions except those inside my own mind. Every day I put on headphones and juiced up the music of Bon Jovi and Tears for Fears and the Alan Parsons Project to stimulate and write with the head-spinning frenzy of Schroeder. It was about the work then, not the commercial prospects and the book tour. It was the most creative joy I ever felt, the only sustained time I woke up not with the dread of writing but with the exhilaration of it. Zach’s whisper of farewell is also mine. (Kindle loc. 1911)
That makes me want to read Friday Night Lights again. Bissinger spends a fair amount of time in Odessa and he’s written a separate follow-up to the book. I haven’t read the follow-up yet, but the parts in Father’s Day about Boobie Miles and the Chavez family have me anticipating it. Friday Night Lights is both the greatest football book ever and the greatest football movie ever. If you haven’t seen them and you say you like football, you’re a phony. The book tears at Bissinger though, it rips him apart:
I knew when it was published I would never top it no matter how hard I tried, and after almost twenty years, I still have not topped it. It all happened when I was thirty-five. The success opened all sorts of avenues, but it also hung over me. It was a wonderful thing to be known for something that had lasted for so long. It was a terrible thing to be known for something that had happened so long ago. It sounds like self-pity, but it wasn’t self-pity. It was the fear of being tapped out and topped out, the rest of my life a vain search. (Kindle loc. 2507)
But it’s not all dark and brooding. Bissinger can see the bright side and it carries extra weight with me when he articulates how kind and caring people can be, because you know it’s real. He marvels at how fairly and normally everyone in Odessa treats Zach.
And it strikes me as far more than ironic that it is here in Odessa, where so many people hated me and I hated certain aspects of the town with equal ferocity, that every single person we encounter treats Zach the way he should always be treated, which is just like everyone else. (Kindle loc. 2507)
The last stop in Los Angeles finds Bissinger in Hollywood, meeting up with Zach’s twin Gerry, visiting with Peter Berg (Bissinger’s cousin), and hanging out on the set of Hancock, among other things. The wrap-up is especially emotional.
This book is for anyone with a soul. I loved it.
Is this the future of sports? If you ask my brother, you’ll get a big yes. He cajoled the whole crew into watching the finale during our family vacation a few weeks ago and it was quite special. Gail and I found it very inspirational. These dudes are doing some serious training for basically no money.
I gotta tell you, I’m getting sick of big time sports. I don’t know what it is specifically – the raping, the cheating, the drugs, the drama, all of the above, I’m not sure. I’m formulating a plan to detach from aspects of major sports beginning as early as September 1st when ND plays Navy in Ireland. I’m considering taking a year off from college athletics. Operative word: considering.
Think about it, that time I waste on Thursday night and Saturday (all day) could be spent getting in shape for American Ninja Warrior, or at least trying to simulate it. Heck, maybe I should take up a non-competitive sport like parkour.
CYNICISM ALERT! Isn’t that where our priorities should be? …taking care of the self before watching so-called college students get their brains scrambled so wealthy donors can brag about their football team.
That’s a dangerous pact though, football does a lot of good. How do you support men’s golf or women’s rowing without football money? I don’t think you do, period, which is sad. But what’s the point of college sports anyhow? Do they drive participation in general? Does participation, in turn, drive a healthier society? I think not. Participation in sports has been growing for decades but we continue to get more obese. The TV ratings for the Olympics this year were bigger than ever, growing just like our collective waist lines. Our sports culture has had the opposite of the intended effect, we aren’t getting stronger, leaner, and faster like our sports heroes, we’re becoming expert TV watchers.
And what about the community aspect of watching football with friends and family members? It’s a shared experience that has the power to bring friends closer and cement tighter bonds between siblings. Are we, am I, ready to forsake this for some juvenile act of civil disobedience? How do I handle it if my friends get together for a college football game watch? Do I miss out on all of the non-sports discussion and relationship building that goes on at these events?
These are hard questions, I don’t have answers.
Oh well, I gotta bat those around, in the mean time, I need to clear the decks for getting ready for the end-of-days. If you’re a ninja, you really don’t have to be too concerned about being a survivor.
Okay, this burger stage I’m going through could be akin to a mid-life crisis. Maybe I’m looking to the juicy beef to fill some sort of emptiness elsewhere in my life. Or maybe burgers are just great and I live in a great burger town and having one burger a week is perfectly normal. Crisis averted! Moving on.
We have some TV stars amongst our hamburger culture here folks. Paradise Pup is famous enough to have been in an episode of Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives. I can’t find an official website, which isn’t surprising, but follow that link it will give you whole back story on this place. It’s small, crowded, and off the beaten path, and great.
I’ve been here twice in the last few months and been torn both times. The quandary: My norm is to order the house condiment stack that comes free so I can compare it to other burgers, but these guys have this Merkts cheddar burger that I want to try. Since I’m in the midst of this comparison stage, I just went with the bare minimum; I had the single, 1/3 lb burger with the posted standard of ketchup, mayo, pickle, tomato, and grilled or raw onions (did raw once and grilled once, love the free grilled).
It’s near perfect. We’ll get to that.
So my buddies and I finished 18 holes at The Bridges of Poplar Creek (great golf, review forthcoming) a few Saturdays ago and made the detour to Des Plaines for this place. We hit it at about 10:45 and there were maybe seven or eight people milling around waiting for the 11:00 opening. By the time we got our food at around 11:15, the line was out the door to the back of the building, maybe 20 people. Remember, this place is only open from 11–5 Monday through Saturday. But man, they churn out a lot of burgers.
We ate it on the picnic tables outside, which is the best option. They have maybe five seats inside. It’s small, really small. I guess during the winter time it’s just a takeout place huh? It’s gotta be.
Let’s talk bun first. They describe it with words like “egg twist” and “bakery fresh,” both of which are highly accurate. It’s fluffy yet very substantial. I think this bun could hold up to a double without batting an eye, which may make you think it could overpower a single 1/3 lb patty. Looking at it, that was my impression, but I was wrong.
I actually think the bun contributes to a perfect, no-mess burger even with pickles, raw onions, and tomato. I picked this thing up and put it down multiple times and it stayed together with zero condiment leakage. It’s a tribute to the dude who prepared as much as it is to the bun. They place the condiments meticulously, perfectly centered and using natural juice barriers. I had zero lower bun saturation. Zero.
It’s quality beef, never frozen, and perfectly uniform.
It may be hand-packed, but I missed a little of that hand-packed randomness. You can’t have it both ways though. I’m guessing that the burger maker is just as conscientious as the condiment placer. Everything is sized perfectly, including even the tomato slice and the raw onion. It’s a joy to eat and could easily be consumed in the presence of a really attractive member of the opposite sex.
The crinkle-cut fries are great and the shakes are decent. It’s hard to get my head around where this ranks. I’m going to get all of these in a list and rank them, but I need some time to reflect.
This is a must-visit if you’re a burger hound. Just do it.