Okay, I’m going to sidetrack the blog and actually write about food — oh crap, I’m sorry, I didn’t ever mean to do that.
Oh well. The other day I was looking through my extensive digital photo collection and came across a picture I wanted to share, yes, of the best burger ever. Now I’m going to be honest, I have enjoyed other burgers, and may have had some that tasted better or were more “foodie” friendly, or this or that, but pound for pound and just for the story on the side, this one tops them all.
Perhaps a dozen years ago I had the honor of going to Brookings, Oregon, for a memorial service for a very kind man named Dave, who was my wife’s stepfather. Dave had a favorite place to eat, so of course we all made a pilgrimage afterwards, and well, it is an experience not to be duplicated.
You can come close, because I just checked Google and apparently they are still in business, though they have moved, and location was part of it.
All I knew was that we were going to a little burger place on the harbor near the beach. And we traveled up the beach on foot, most of our party of about dozen. Sounds quaint, right?
What it really was was “Fely’s Café and Laundromat,” which when we arrived looked like an oversized shed with and add-on in the middle of the harbor parking lot, surrounded by cars and RVs and boat trailers. There was a picnic table or two outside, and maybe three small tables inside in front of the long counter. I’m sad to say I didn’t take a peek at the laundry machines.
We all had to order burgers, since that was what Dave liked. The place was run by an old couple, and Fely, the woman in charge, was one of those ageless Asian archetypes. She thought my child was adorable and just had to come out and give her a huge hug. It was helpful since it gave me extra time with my burger.
And the burgers? I will let the picture speak for itself, though please note that those are normal size paper plate that the burgers are covering. Formed with little care to shape out of what I am certain was an entire pack of ground beef, and cooked in the historic greasy memory of every burger ever made on the grill, they were delicious. Too big to eat in one sitting; too delicious to stop.
My wife alone was clever enough to cut her burger in half before starting and created leftovers, which nearly led to a knife fight between Dave’s two surviving elder brothers. Okay, maybe they were just trying to divide it in half again, given that what would now be a quarter of the original was still a good size burger, but there was a waving of knives, somewhat raised voices and a very faint desire to share the prize equally, if at all.
My one disappointment is that we were leaving that next day, and I didn’t have a chance to eat there a second time. Or probably room in my stomach. But in my heart, the memory lives on, right next to a warm place for Dave.
P.S. Fely’s Cafe is on Shopping Center Avenue in Harbor, Oregon, basically in Brookings, just north of the California-Oregon. Don’t go for the service, go for the calories and maybe your own story. Tell them Dave sent you, indirectly.
P.P.S. I think the fact that these are the most accidentally creative burgers ever, and that you need to eat to have the energy to be creative gives this post a fair place in this blog.