I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as one that ends with a trip to White Castle. Look what I found in NY, hiding on 38th and 8th! There used to be one across the street from the Empire State Building but it disappeared years ago, leading many to believe the closest sliders were now in Queens. Well, fear not, hungry Manhattanite, you no longer have to hop on the F for a trip to heaven!
Ok, I can already hear you thinking, “White Castle? What’s the big deal? You’re telling me you’re in New York Frakking City, home of the finest restaurants on Earth, and you’re going to risk gastrointestinal suicide by eating a mystery meat-fuelled chemical bomb from White Castle??” You bet your ass I am.
Essentially, there are three types of While Castle people: the “minor flirts,” who have never lived near one but ocassionally pick them up from the supermarket; the “casual daters” who are lucky enough to have a White Castle close to home and therefore have the ability to secure a sack of ten when the mood strikes them and, finally, we have the “cheating homewreckers.” These are people who used to live near a White Castle and moved far, far away, most likely to a state that has no White Castle restaurant. Perhaps you’ve even moved to some godforsaken no man’s land where the closest White Castle is 1800 miles away.
Someplace like California.
I call this class of fans “cheating homewreckers” because it means that if circumstances land them temporarily near White Castle, they will drop everything, fore go any and all financial, family or health considerations and immediately “storm the Castle,” embarking on a slider feeding-frenzy that will last until their craving is satisfied or their stomach explodes.
While I proudly fall into the final category, there was a lot to eat on this trip and I had dinner plans later that evening, so I only allowed myself the pleasure of two of the coveted burgers (one of which was devoured before I remembered to capture the moment). Some people say the frozen ones are just as good as the “fresh” variety, but to these people I say “doody-head!” Until you’ve just stuffed a piping hot fresh one into your mouth, savoring the ultra-soft bun and the succulent myriad of flavors found within, you just don’t remember what you’re missing.
I walked out with a satisfied smile on my face, basking in the afterglow of my first true White Castle in years. I got about half a block away when I literally stopped in my tracks and wondered how I could have been so foolish. ONLY TWO??
These little hotties came home with me and were ready and willing when it was time for a little late-night action. Some people call them mini-burgers, some say sliders and others proclaim weapons of ass destruction; I just call them a perfect ending to another wonderful day in New York.
PS: No I did not try the fried clam strips.