Burger Hale

I should start by saying that burgers have a very special place in my heart; I’ve always loved cheeseburgers. When I was growing up we didn’t eat out much and even when we did the best bet was usually KFC because it was the only food my grandmother would buy from anybody. Other options included any place involving a buffet because that was my dad’s idea of a good time. But for me, there was nothing better growing up than stopping somewhere—anywhere—and getting a cheeseburger. I remember the first time I came to Hawaii I was hell bent on impressing my then-girlfriend and so I dove head first into all the local delicacies—which basically meant I ate a lot of fish. Fish, particularly ocean fish, is not that easy to come by in Missouri. Outside of the occasional—and I do mean occasional—stop at the sushi restaurant, I didn’t get it that often. So, after 3 or 4 days of nothing but fish, my body started to revolt. I experienced a craving deeper than any craving than anything in my life… for beef. I needed a taste of home. And I needed it on a bun with some cheese.

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