Now and then a few of you have urged me to try a pastrami burger — most recently Charles Bentley, in his comment on my post about eating at a Krystal’s in New Orleans. I admitted that while I still planned to sample one sometime, I found the whole concept of a pile of pastrami atop a burger to be intimidating.
But that comment put the pastrami burger back on my mind. One lunch hour last week, feeling like eating a burger and having business in Pomona, I decided to revisit Bravo Burgers and go for it.
Bravo brags about its pastrami, and I knew its burgers were pretty good. Seemed like a good place to try the two in tandem.
(I’ve heard Bravo Burgers’ chili cheese fries are top-notch, btw, but a sense of decorum kept me from getting those and a burger topped with pastrami. I got the regular fries and a Coke.)
Well, I hate to break it to Charles like this, but I didn’t care for the pastrami burger.
Not that Bravo’s wasn’t an exemplary version of the sandwich. It no doubt was.
Me, I like my burgers fairly simple. Usually I don’t even get cheese. Pastrami was akin to another condiment, one with a salty tang, getting in the way of the beef. For me, the pastrami diluted the pleasure, rather than increasing it. Your mileage may vary.
There was another issue that gnawed at me as I gnawed at my sandwich. Sure, I eat a fair amount of unhealthy things — as well as a fair amount of healthy things, I hasten to add — and perhaps some of those items are as unhealthy as a pastrami burger, or worse.
But they don’t seem as bad. Each bite of the pastrami burger filled me with guilt. Also, fat and salt. Mentally blocked, I couldn’t really surrender to the sandwich.
Was that a hiccup, or my heart seizing?
So it was an anxious lunch. Just as well I didn’t develop a taste for a pastrami burger, I suppose. I’ll continue to enjoy my pastrami and burgers separately.