The $11 Ben's Burger at the restaurant at Aliso Creek Golf Course yesterday (Father's Day) was a real winner, and yet the service did not score far behind.
I asked for the patty to be rare, and when the open- faced sandwich was served, the appearance of the charred 4-1/2" disk (about) and 3/4" (about) thick piece of meat covered in melted English Cheddar gave no indication that it was exactly that; though, it was deliciously rare.
At brunch while the Dad and step-dad were content out on their own for a while, I was able to enjoy my meal at a leisurely pace. Definitely there for the burger, I was a bit saddened to see the menu stated it was served with french fries; though a little glee remained inside. When the choice was offered of FF, fruit or cole slaw, I perked up a bit and asked if the cole slaw was tarty or sweet. I then ordered the slaw without much explanation, but with a mumbled afterthought that I really wanted both cole slaw AND French fries. When the dish arrived, a spired triangle of pickle rode on the top bun, lettuce and onion and was crisp and sour.
After I'd had a few slices of bread and patty, the waitress stopped by with a bottle of ketchup and said she'd almost forgot it. I wondered what the heck I was supposed to do with that and just smiled at the her and said thank you! She had asked the chef to put several french fries on my plate, too. My happy little thank you continued with grateful recognition to her about the fries. Then, I was pleased to see that the butter came individually wrapped in gold paper because I could use that little ramekin they were in for the ketchup. Score!
After a while, I had made an aerial view of sandtraps on the ledge of my plate with the thin slices of crisp red onion, had made individual bite-sizes of bacon and fresh tomatoe wrapped in lettuce, had made hole-in-ones with the burger and onions, and enjoyed each bite as I did.
Then, I wrapped some of the remaining slaw (of cabbage, carrot, apple, etc. with a mildly sweet creamy sauce) into a quarter of the now cold melted blanket of that English Cheddar. Delightful.
All in all, I couldn't finish eating the burger and platter. But, that was okay with the waitresss. She said I could just sit there with it until I wanted to finish it. I told her I'd have to jump up and down maybe and then finish it (that was Grandpa's trick when situations like that occurred at Thanksgiving.)
The napkin-wrapped warm bisquits and sweet buns and the plate of rind-on melon layed where they landed from the hands of the man, though I had enjoyed the slight aroma of the sweet buns and the warmth of the napkin.
After thinking (just thinking though) about making a paper football with the cocktail napkin to maybe try to flick past the straw in my water glass into that ramekin that was now sitting up top the overturned bowl that the mild cole slaw came in (actually not a wise idea), the hostess walked up and asked if I wanted her to take the plate in front of me away. We agreed that though the waitress had left it for me, maybe I just didn't want to look at it anymore. And, then, nothing was on my side of the table except half a glass of Hess Select chardonnay and a folded envelope of napkin.
It was a good day. I walked on down the Aliso Creek Beach and returned to zoom away in my convertible. If you go, try to be careful as you exit right onto Pacific Coast Highway from their driveway. If you go too fast, your wheels might screech on the road and leave black marks.
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