Marcel Winatschek

After the Lolita Burger

I had a Lolita Burger and it destroyed every meal that came before it. Crispy potato chips baked into the patty, sweet onion jam, peanut butter and bacon working in concert, seared foie gras, grass-fed beef charred to the edge of black. I’d eat that thing every day for the rest of my life if I could. That’s not even gluttony—that’s just knowing what you want.

I’m not here to judge anyone’s salad. But I also know that something in me changed after that burger. Once you’ve had food that doesn’t pretend to be anything but exactly what it is, you can’t go back to pretending anymore.