It had
happened. My burger withdrawals had begun with a vengeance. After a week in Albania, my stomach was
in full revolt over the absence of ground beef on a bun, and my taste buds were lining
up to join the cause. I couldn’t stop obsessing about a juicy hamburger, and I
knew this craving would need to be satisfied or I would be grumpy for the rest
of the week. Since I love trying new burger places and experiencing the
differing styles of various restaurants, I was looking forward to trying out
Albania's burgers. Well aware that no country can compete with America's
burgers, I set my standards appropriately low and determined in my mind that I
wouldn't compare it to, say, an In-N-Out burger, lest I be unable to fairly grade
the Albanian version.
That lunch
hour, I went with my friend Mike to a place called "Goody Burger." Acclamations
on the windows in Albanian as well as English informed us that this was
Albania's finest when it came to hamburgers. We thought the name and praises
were credible enough to warrant us checking this place out, and we gazed in
mouthwatering wonder at the menu’s images of juicy, tender beef patties tucked
into enticing buns with crisp lettuce so fresh the morning dew was still on it
and tomatoes as red as the Albanian flag. My stomach cheered in joyful glee at
titles such as "Double Bacon Cheeseburger" and "1/2 Pounder
Cheeseburger" and "Guacamole Swiss Burger." I ordered the double
bacon cheeseburger and went the whole nine-yards: fries, drink, everything. This
place wasn't as cheap as other places we had been; it was about $8 which is
normal in America but absurdly expensive in Albania. But that was okay, it would
be well worth it.
The wait was
long, and my hunger became tempestuous. But at long last, a Goody Burger
employee arrived bearing two trays, each holding a giant basket of fries and a
box within which lay… a bacon cheese burger. I opened the box and gently
unwrapped the paper enveloping my burger. She sat there in my hands in all her
glory. Bacon and cheese, two of man's greatest discoveries, combined with man's
greatest invention: the burger. With eyes closed I sank my teeth deeply into
the burger. And what I tasted was absolutely…
Disgusting.
It was just awful. I opened my eyes and looked up at Mike whose face reflected a
similar opinion. Shoving the lump of food in his mouth over to his cheek he muttered,
"What is this?" He looked at his burger and slowly resumed chewing in
confusion, "Is this… rubber?"
It seemed
like it. I forced myself to swallow the clump of the vile matter I had bitten
off. I stared at this strange object I held in my hands… what on earth did I
just eat? The thing stared back at me with a smirk, knowing I had been deceived
into thinking it was something similar to my beloved commodity back in the
States. The beef tasted like it was made from a homeless man's shoe, and the
bacon? I'm pretty sure it was plastic bacon from a child's play set, so bland
and so difficult to chew that I pulled it out just so I could actually get
through the burger. I took another bite, stomach squirming in frustration.
"They
should call this place 'Baddy Burger,' because this is phenomenally
terrible," I grumbled while seeking a remedy to the horrific flavor. I
reached for my basket of fries. As it turns out, they were equally awful. The
only thing 'Baddy Burger' could manage to do correctly was have a soda machine
that worked. Though neither Mike nor I wanted to finish our food, we were so
famished and had spent so much on it that we toiled valiantly through, bite by
bite, chasing each one with a long sip of root beer, until our appetites were sated
enough for us to terminate our efforts with sighs of relief.
On the plus
side, we treated ourselves to gelato from a stand outside as a reward for our
hard work in finishing as much as we could, and let me tell you, that really
hit the spot. All's well that ends well, right?
At least I learned
to never return to that particular restaurant, and to be extra certain about the credibility of a restaurant's claims before spending my
hard-earned cash trying it out. I also
learned how much more I need to appreciate my country of origin,
America: land of the free, home of the brave, and home of the really good cheeseburgers.
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