G Is For Jenga Burger: How The Hell Do I Eat It?
I ordered a cheeseburger with bacon and avocado at G Burger in Fountain Valley the other night, and this cheeseburger Jenga game is what came out: a burger with an American cheese base, a bacon crucifix, the Leaning Tower of Produce, and levitating yuppie weeds between two enormous pieces of bread.
It's an astonishingly beautiful food sculpture, and it was absolutely impossible to eat. I managed to scrunch it down by removing the foot-long skewer that held it together, deconstructing the burger somewhat, and pressing down hard. Only then was I able to insert the sandwich into my mouth, which is an impressive feat, given that I can open my jaws impressively widely. (Go ahead, make your jokes now. I'll wait.)
The problem, of course, was that bun, already stressed by the weight of the food on top of it, disintegrated utterly; I ended up having to eat the entire thing without setting it down, and yet I still got cheese, avocado and sauce all over my hands. I felt pornographic trying to fit it into my mouth, like the next thing I should have done was rub the avocado on my areolae. Carl's Jr.'s advertising agency would have had a field day with it. It came with a fork and knife, too, as though this were France or some other benighted place that doesn't know how to eat a hamburger.
The last time I went to G Burger was at the original mother ship in La Habra, and I certainly don't remember the burgers being giant, skewer-attached meat phalluses. I remember them being excellent burgers. This was not an excellent burger; this was a salade composée on top of a piece of meat.
Beauty is one thing, but construction counts. Please don't sit next to that burger during an earthquake.