Monthly Burger Sunday

On the coldest Sunday in February, Cam, Erin, and I rode the subway for over an hour to Red Hook, Brooklyn. The temperature dipped from 19 to 18 degrees as we entered a cozy tavern rumored to have one of the best burgers in New York City.

The waitress led us to an outdoor picnic table and left us shivering with menus we didn’t need. Shortly after, she returned to deliver unfathomable news.

“I’m so sorry, we’re out of the burger. I understand if you don’t want to stay.”

We left.

The following Sunday, Cam, Erin, and I split a cab to Red Hook, Brooklyn. Bundled in layers from head-to-toe, we were prepared when the waitress led us to the same outdoor picnic table.

One week and two hours after our mission began, we removed our mittens as three cheeseburgers and three Diet Cokes arrived. American cheese blanketed the dry aged patty, which dozed on a toasted sesame seed bun. As we licked our plates clean, we decided to try another award-winning burger in March.

Ever since that dinner, we've dedicated one Sunday a month to eating burgers.

The conversation is lighthearted and hunger-panged until our food arrives. What started out as a sarcastic seriousness in February turned into an earnest, no-nonsense burger science by April.

Cam delights in a pink burger sauce and a generous Diet Coke pour, unless we decide a particular evening calls for wine or martinis. Erin prefers a sesame seed bun to brioche. A cheesy burger is my kryptonite. We waffle on whether a thick patty is superior to a smash, but we’re all partial to a pickle.

We compare toppings month-to-month and analyze the consistency of the meat. We deliberate over the crispiness of the fry and the ambience of the restaurant. We record our rankings methodically and decide where the next MBS (Monthly Burger Sunday) will take us over dessert.

Last month, we celebrated the one year anniversary of MBS at a candlelit pub. Portraits of patrons past looked on as we toasted to twelve burgers and twelve Sundays spent savoring them.

We shed our scarves in favor of sandals, then donned them once again. Birthdays and weekend trips came and went. Clocks sprang forward, then wound back. Conversation about a second date turned to meeting the parents. Leases were signed and broken. Friends visited town and moved away.

But every month, there was a burger.