Columnists / Meg Houghton-Gilmour
‘You were the best burger I ever ate’
It was September 15 2020. The summer of new found freedom, the summer of eat-out-to-help-out, the summer of socially distanced picnics and park walks was drawing to a close. But this early evening of mid-September defied the descent into autumn; we wandered around Wapping Wharf with the sun on our back, shoulders bare and stomachs rumbling.
The others were headed to the Athenian and I was following when you caught my eye. You taunted me from the other side of Gaol Ferry Steps through the crowds of sunshine revellers. ‘Don’t bother’, you said, as if I’d be put off. You had me at bone marrow and wild mushroom ketchup.
The sign outside your door on that fateful day
I made my vague excuses to the others, who weren’t enthralled by the promise of you. They don’t understand you like I do. I marched into your home and demanded you, beeped my card readily, and waited impatiently.
is needed now More than ever
I watched as you were wrapped tenderly in paper, bagged and handed over the counter. You smelt sensational. I felt my pupils dilate with every meaty waft that escaped your blanket as we walked over to the water together.
Unwrapping you was like every Christmas morning rolled into one. My friends had rejoined us – but you and I were in a world of our own. Their chatter faded into the background as your layers were revealed. Two patties – naughty – two layers of cheese, slow roasted tomatoes and that ketchup, oozing out of your sides and slipping between my fingers.
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Don’t bother. The irony. You were over all too fast and I was left full but bereft. I sat in contemplative silence, licking the last trails of juice from my fingers and watching the low rays of daylight dance around the harbour. It’s a difficult thing, knowing you’ve just experienced something so monumental.
You were a special, you could disappear from the menu and my life at any moment. You were ephemeral, a memory so perfect you could never truly be recreated. You were a moment in time that changed everything; a five minute situationship that will leave a shadow on my soul forever.
You were the best burger I ever ate, and now the man who created you has announced his plans to sell your home, Squeezed, to pursue a career as a biology teacher. There is a good chance that you and I will never meet again. But sometimes, such pure memories are best left untouched. Consigned to history but never forgotten.
Alex, you did a wonderful job. Those students will be lucky to have you. And to whoever takes the reigns at Squeezed – good luck. Please do bother.
All photos: Meg Houghton-Gilmour
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