Ask the Burgiatrist

Ask the Burgiatrist Is Back!

Dear Ask the Burgiatrist,

We’re hoping you can settle a workplace debate.

It’s been forever since you’ve published your amazing burger-advice column. I’m thinking that you’re probably taking a break or sabbatical or something. (Hey, even famous burgiatrists need to recharge the grill, right?) But my co-worker has this cuh-ra-zy story that I’m practically too embarrassed to tell you. She said that when Burger King put out its “French Fry Burger” a couple of years back, you were so horrified by the idea of a burger that was basically French fries on a patty that you swore off burgiatry forever! She said that you even kind of lost it and wound up in an institution or something. Obviously, she’s the one who’s nuts. 🙂

So where have you been, ATB? I hope you say you’re coming back—we miss you!

Your fan,

Melissa Guillory

Ronkonkoma, NY

 

Dear Melissa,

Thank you for your kind words, Melissa. I’ve heard many outlandish rumors surrounding my absence, but this one surely tops them all! I shall be forever bemused by society’s affection for outlandish fiction.

I’ll do my best to explain the reason for my absence, though you’ll forgive me in advance if the explanation is humdrum at best. The response might be short, as this strait jacket makes it difficult to write. 😉

Simply put, I elected to step away from “Ask the Burgiatrist” in 2013 to pursue interests my burgiatry schedule would not allow. Chief among these was a lifelong interest in winemaking. Thus I publicly announce that I’ve busied myself as an amateur—but wholly adequate, I hope!—vintner for something over two years. So there it is! And if my explanation hasn’t lulled you to sleep completely just yet, I’ll add this: Surprisingly, the arts of burgiatry and winemaking are strikingly similar. Like a great burger, a well-crafted wine is the product of cunning combinations—of fruits and tannins, of enzymes and yeasts, of fortitude and time. Unlike burgiatry, however, winemaking could not possibly tolerate a practice as banal and insipid as merely moving four French fries two inches over, from next to the burger to on the burger.

I mean, really?

Sure, if Burger King wanted to insult the intelligence of a swamp toad—let alone a leading authority on the burgiatric arts—couldn’t it have at least gone with some substantial quantity of fries, so the burger at least looked like something not ridiculous, instead of dicking around with literally four pathetic shoestrings—which hey, guess what, are exactly the same crappy fries you’re already eating anyway?

C’mon, people, seriously?

Hey, Burger King, I’ve got an idea for you! Why don’t you squirt some ketchup onto a patty and call it the BK We Put Ketchup On It For You Because Marketing Is Out of F**ing Ideas Burger? Because that idea is only marginally less Sh***ty than the one with the F***ing French fries.

Now hear this, Burger King, and hear it good.

For your crimes against burgiatry, for your unholy descent to the very nadir of burgiatric decency—nay, of dignity itself!—my burgiatric forebears shall rise above your places of business and poop on your pea-brained Fry Burger and all that it represents.

Though for the moment you may consider yourself lucky, as I must hastily conclude this missive. The nurses are ringing the snack bell, and woe unto you, Burger King, if I miss donut day.

Woe unto you.

Ask the Burgiatrist