Dude Ranch Makes a Burger: a study

image of raw burger patties

Dear Beaver,

A little about Dude Ranch’s habits every Tuesday and Thursday, and alternate Sundays.

He enters, post-workout, through the side door like he’s an electrician. He darts to the fridge and pulls out fresh ground beef. Fresh as in not frozen, and not freshly killed, though now that I think about it, how would I know? I never ask him about his experiences in the past with stock yards, cattle ranches, or burgers at rodeos, as in, “Does it seem weird that you’re eating an animal who’s allowing you to have this entertainment that’s also dusty and painful?”

Do they even serve burgers at rodeos?

Dude Ranch lets the beef air out on the large external kitchen hard-drive (also known as the dishwasher). Then he bounds up the stairs to go to the bathroom where he applies the electrical razor to his face. This will be the third time he does this that day. I know because the sound makes the little dog shake with fear. It causes the dog, who shall be referred to as “Bucktooth Bucky” for privacy reasons, to hide at my feet. Twenty minutes later, Dude Ranch is ready for a meal.

He molds the ground beef with his hands thusly:

  • shaping, shaping, shaping
  • slapping it
  • the fire underneath the pan is blazing hot
  • shaping, shaping, shaping
  • slapping it, then throwing it down on top of the external kitchen hard-drive
  • You try to look away from the fire but find that you cannot
  • shaping
  • slapping, git along little doggie
  • your eyes dart around for a fire extinguisher
  • edging with the side of his hand like a sculptor
  • perfecting the shape – which ultimately looks nothing special, just burger-esque
  • the house does not catch fire

It takes him 2-4 minutes to do this. I know because I finally started timing it.

Why did I start timing it? That’s for another day.

What do ya think?