I know that all of my Portland burger friends wake to the sweet smell of meats and food creativity. I wake in what can only be poetically described by the Verve’s cherished hit from 1997: it’s a bittersweet symphony, this life.
I’m trying to fit a square peg into the round hole of my intestines. I have insurmountable doubt San Francisco will live up to Portland Burger Week. My hopes are low, my cholesterol high. Yet, against all odds, I must push forward. If not me educating on the sacred teachings of Burger, then who?