Let’s get this out of the way now: I have just eaten a pound of meat between two slabs of fried dough. I am not proud of the monstrosity I just crammed into my face, and I plan on making another next week.
Stage One: Planning
My flatmates and I are pretty avid culinary explorers. Andy’s a doughmaster and king of anything Italian. Silas is a potato wizard. I make meat – burgers are a personal specialty. After watching an episode of The Boondocks featuring the Luther Burger, we decided we’d lived long enough and had to have one.
For the uninitiated, the Luther Burger – named for musician Luther Vandross – consists of a burger patty, cheese, bacon, and often a fried egg. Oh, and instead of buns you cram that business between two donuts. It’s terrible. Don’t even try to pretend otherwise. The glazing and red meat go together about as well as hot dogs and motor oil. With this in mind, we improvised.
Where Andy’s from, doughboys are a particular delicacy. So we figured, instead of donuts, why not throw burgers between fried butter and flour and then eat whatever that makes?
Stage Two: Preparation
After a long battle between sanity and our taste buds, the cravings won. We bought ingredients and got to work.
That’s Andy making the dough, and Silas readying the mac and cheese. Oh, yeah. We stuffed mac and cheese in there, too.
Look at this perfection:
Making the burgers:
My one complaint about this apartment, other than the wall that detached itself from the other walls, is that we’ve got nowhere to put a grill. Sadly, this means I can be less experimental with my meats, because cooking on electric coils is my single least favorite type of cooking.
Here’s the bacon:
And the dough:
Ready the cranes, ’cause it’s time to put these greaseballs together.
Step 3: Construction
We gained five pounds just fixing the ingredients. My stomach invoked the 8th Amendment’s cruel and unusual clause. I had to shower off a film of grease. But we had come so far already. We were building the Everest of hamburgers.
First up, the mac and cheese:
In our pledge to gorge ourselves on the worst kind of wonderful, we shunned the Kraft Dinner and went straight for store brand. Hell, we could have made it from scratch. But we’d committed to quality trash, and damned if we were backing out now.
Next, the patties:
Yeah, slap some more bacon on there.
Topping it off:
The finished product:
You may have noticed two very important things about that last photograph. First, we absolutely did add a second patty. These bad boys weighed over a pound apiece. Second, the picture’s a little blurry. It’s not out of focus – that’s a layer of grease on the lens.
Step 4: Eating the damn thing
No longer fearing death, we jumped in.
With the speed of a morphine-addled manatee, we trudged through the single most amazingly terrible idea three bachelors could come up with.
I’ve got huge eyes and a tiny stomach, and was out of the running almost immediately.
The last bite:
That night, we learned a very important lesson: We should absolutely do this again.
Oh, and in case you were wondering what the fate of that lone patty on our counter was, we fried that shit up. At this point, you really should have seen that coming.