M-m-m, Burgers
by Eva Pasco
Author of "Underlying Notes"

Long before Homer Simpson drooled over the prospects of USA Choice, my family knew a thing or
two about beef. One of life's pleasures growing up in the Sixties was the Sunday
joy ride, so carefree with the price of gasoline way under a dollar per
gallon. Since my dad's hobby was acquiring and restoring Tin Lizzies, the leisurely
drive hither,thither, and yon gave him a chance to show off his handiwork while attracting
potential buyers for those magnificent machines that once careened around corners gangsta style. One
such beauty to hit the highways with grace and dignity was our shiny blue 1932 Buick.
My father's prize Buick squired us to burger havens such as White Castle and
Dairy Queens. We'd also roll onto the asphalt lots of Rattey's and A&W, the last of
the diehard carhops. I always liked my burger with mustard, dill pickles, and a sprinkling of
crushed potato chips.
As hamburger prices increased anywhere from 45 - 55 cents, we ventured to the
Hillsgrove section of Warwick, Rhode Island where the first burger joint selling beef on a bun
for 15 cents took a stand-- Burger Chef. This new fast food establishment's meagre
offerings included: burgers already prepared with mustard, ketchup, and onions; fries;
Coke; vanilla shakes. I don't know that my father saved any money because at those
prices my sister and I ordered two burgers each accompanied by fries and a drink.
M-m-m, burgers...savored during the Sixties when beef wasn't injected with
chemicals or hormones. It was a time when you could order your burger rare without worrying about
contracting a life threatening illness. What we didn't know back then about
transfats clogging our arteries didn't kill us either. We certainly were unaware
of the less than stellar working conditions in the beef industry. Sinking our teeth
into a juicy hamburger was a great American pasttime without
any complications to taint its robust flavor.
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