That’s right -- as a relatively young man with a relatively
active lifestyle and a relatively efficient metabolism, I can eat junk food
with relatively little consequence.
Still, I believe in balance. Good
or bad, all foodstuffs have nutritional value.
So though I succeed in eating a bit of everything (good and bad), I’m no
worse for wear. But I don’t want to talk
about that. I want to talk about hamburgers,
specifically the ones served at Brunch Box.
Among these creations might be the key to the cart’s success.
When Brunch Box opened, it quickly gained
notoriety for serving something called the YouCanHasCheesburger (the name is a
play on some internet thing). This burger, like all their other burgers, is
hand-patted black angus beef. It’s
accompanied by cheese, grilled onions, lettuce and tomato and, here’s the thing,
it comes between two texas-toast grilled-cheese sandwiches. It was a novel concept then and people still
show up just to try it now. I had it
once before, just to say that I’d eaten it.
It was gooooood. It came fresh
off the griddle, hot to the touch, wrapped in butcher-paper growing progressively
translucent. It went down easy, leaving a
congealed coating on the roof of my mouth and in the back of my throat. Indeed, I think it safe to say that the
YouCanHasCheesburger effectively lubricated my entire digestive tract. Nonetheless, it didn’t blow my mind. Or hurt my stomach. So there’s that.
Anyway, the whole point of all this is that, until recently,
I didn’t eat at Brunch Box regularly. Despite
being a junk-food aficionado and a veritable burger-hound, I probably ate less
than ten burgers there over the course of four years (compare that to the
roughly 100-some I eat every year). Sure,
I knew the burgers were awesome. And it
was clear that others agreed; lines formed every day for lunch and, it seemed
to me, Brunch Box was among the more successful food carts in the city. At an average of $7.25 ($8 to build your own),
the burgers all but guaranteed profitability and surely helped facilitate the brick-and-mortar
opening. But therein lies the kicker -- at that price, the burgers didn’t appeal
to me.
Call me cheap, but don’t call me unreasonable. Cart meals (at least the ones I typically eat)
range from six to eight bucks. But that’s
for actual meals -- meat AND potatoes -- not a lone, albeit big sandwich. And a burger begs for buddies. Really, what’s a burger without fries? Who wants an 8-dollar sidewalk-sandwich with
no chips, no drink?* Not me, that’s
who. So I didn’t partake.
Lately though, in the new space on 9th, I can’t get
enough. I’m there at least once a week. The reason?
The model changed. At the new
location, you can get fries, onion rings, a fountain drink or a milkshake, and
you can sit down. I can get a full, satisfying
meal now for like nine bucks. Consequently,
I’m now fully addicted to Brunch-Box burgers.
We all love junk food.
It’s yummy. It’s savory, it’s
sweet. It satisfies one of our deepest
needs in a very pleasing way. But junk
food is junk -- it’s bad for us. Even
though the junk food at Brunch Box is fresh and natural (aside from the American
cheese**), it’s still not too good for me.
And, one of these days, all this junk food will catch up with me. Yeah, my diet is pretty well-balanced and I come
from good stock, but my wife often reminds me, “you won’t be able to eat like
this forever.” She’s right. Eventually, my metabolism will slow. My lifestyle will go from active to less
active. Plaque will accrue in my
arteries, adipocytes will converge on my waist, and I will no longer be able to
eat as much junk food with relatively little consequence. C’est la vie.
GTWYC, I guess.
*Note: you can get chips (the little bag) and a can of soda
at the cart for $2, which strikes me as unnecessarily expensive.
**Topic for another time: why is the most processed (manufactured
from ingredients and not legally allowed to be sold as ‘cheese’) of cheeses
called ‘American’ cheese?
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