On Saturday afternoon, after spending the morning shopping for a week’s worth of food and alcohol, the Beast and I drove to Five Guys. That’s a hamburger chain that first opened up in Arlington, Virginia in 1986. There’s a location at Weston Road and highway 7. The Beast has been there a few times with his boyfriends but this was my inaugural visit.
Waiting in line.
Beast: I’m getting a cheeseburger. What about you?
Foodie: Me too. And I’ll have a regular order of fries.
Beast: The cajun fries are really good. Want to share an order of those?
Foodie: Ah, no thanks. First, I don’t “share” fries and second, ” I just want plain fries.”
Beast: Okay, but the orders are really big.
Foodie: Rolling eyes
Sitting down at a table with our food
Beast: The first time I came here I saw all these people unwrapping their double burgers and I was so annoyed with myself for only ordering a single burger. After I unwrapped mine though, I realized that every burger is a double burger at Five Guys!
Foodie: They are? Get out of here! Really? I can’t eat a double burger. That’s too much meat. You can have one of my patties and make yours a triple burger.
Beast: Ah, trust me, you’ll eat it all.
Foodie: Ah, no I won’t. That’s gross man. Holy shit! Look at all these fries! Why didn’t we share an order?
Foodie: Wow! Look at this thing! This is beautiful!
Beast: Do you like it?
Foodie: This is the best burger I’ve ever had. This is so good. This is like, when you think of the perfect burger, this is what it is. Do you know what I mean?
Beast: It’s like the platonic burger. No frills. It’s just a burger.
Foodie: I can see why you like this place so much! Is it really better than the Burger’s Priest?
Beast: Both my visits there did not yield results like this. But then again, I think I ordered wrong.
Foodie: What do you mean?
Beast: I ordered their signature burger and it’s a burger sandwiched between two deep-fried pieces of portobello mushrooms stuffed with cheese.
Foodie: Oh, too much! Just give me a cheeseburger man! Maybe a slice of tomato, some onions and pickles.
Beast: I’m so glad you like it.
I ate the entire burger in the same amount of time that the Beast did. It truly was extraordinary and I’m glad there isn’t a Five Guys close by. It should be for special occassions, like when we have a car, only.
The special occasion this time was that we were driving up to the Beast’s family’s cottage. The reason we had a week’s worth of food and alcohol was because the Beast was staying one night and then heading back to the city, leaving me alone for a week in the untamed wilderness.
After a few trips from the car to the cottage, we unpacked my supplies: a case of fire logs, three 10 litre jugs of water, seven bottles of wine, a bag of books, a bag of clothes, my computer, the first season of Northern Exposure, some water colour paints that I’ve had since high school, and food: five different kind of cheeses, three types of crackers, avocados, tomatoes, red pepper, zucchini, potatoes, Ontario asparagus, bananas, green onions, two pork chops, four sausages, a flank steak, grapes, a quarter of a watermelon, yogurt, six apple-cinnamon donuts, coffee, eggs, multi-grain bread, a baguette, oatmeal, black bean soup, a jar of anchovies, dried orrecchiette pasta, rapini, kale, onions, garlic, lemons and limes. Oh, and wieners, hotdog buns. And a bag of Crunchy Cheetoes. Okay, two bags of Cheetos. Plus a pint of caramel cone explosion Häagen-Dazs ice cream.
Beast: I’m worried that you’re not going to have enough food.
Foodie: ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I’m going to be fine.
Beast: But that has to last you a whole week.
Foodie: I could make this last two weeks if I had to. I eat like a bird anyway.
We poured ourselves a drink and headed to the dock, where we read our books and were warmed by the just-setting sun.
That night, we grilled some asparagus and the flank steak, which we served on top of arugula with some shaving of parmigiano. We had a cheese plate for dessert.
We spent all day Sunday on the dock, suntanning and reading and flexing. We grilled up some sausages and vegetables for dinner. And then, at around 8:00 p.m., it was time for the Beast to say good-bye. I’ve been looking forward to a week alone–to get a little reading done, and maybe some creative writing–for a while now. But I would have given my left pinky finger for the Beast to stay.
When I came back inside, I turned my attention to starting a fire in the Franklin, like a real frontier woman would do. After I ignited the fire log, I got down to business. I locked the cottage door so that murderers wouldn’t get me, wrote a 1,000 words, ate a quarter of a bag of Cheetos, drank half a bottle of white wine and watched one-and-a-half episodes of Northern Exposure. Then I went to bed.
Sleep, however, did not come easy. I woke up every single time a chipmunk scurried over the pine needles and every time a murderer tried to jimmy open the cottage door. That was every 10 minutes. I have a feeling tonight will be better now that I’ve adjusted to the absence of noise, save for the birds, including woodpeckers that sound like the alien from Predator, the lake lapping against the shore, trains passing and the blare of my own flatuence.
So far today, I ate a donut, some oatmeal, three cups of coffee, grapes, cheese and crackers and a flank steak sandwich on baguette with arugula and dijon mustard. I also collected a bag full of pine cones and piled them up into a pyramid.
I also wrote another 1,000 words, ran four kilometres, did five push-ups, looked at my calf muscles in the mirror (pretty good!), examined my soft midriff (disappointing!), downloaded a Robyn song, and attempted to download the fourth episode of Girls but my computer said it would take four days so I gave up. I wonder if this is how Thoreau did it during his Walden years.
My hair is so dirty that I tried to do a french braid to get it out of my face but I haven’t done a french braid since I played with Barbies so it looks more like a wet nest. I have no make-up, jewelry or deodorant here. I smell strongly.
So far, I’m doing fine, though. I’ll be fine.