Saturday, April 12, 2008

Red Mill Burgers: An Exclusive Investigative Report

I was recently introduced to one of Seattle's best burger joints: Red Mill Burgers. After returning from a rather taxing training ride, I was pleasantly surprised when one of my house-mates-de-jour, Danielle, invited me to join her and a friend. The place was small, charming, and very busy. Right off the bat, I was impressed with the menu, and the astounding level of hotness on behalf of the mostly female staff. The place reminded me of one of those stupid ads: half a dozen beautiful women with skillfully applied makeup, huge hoop earings, and spaghetti strap tops, slaving over hot stoves. It were as though all I needed was a can of musky aerosol to send the cooks into a sexually charged frenzy, tearing my clothes from my body, carrying me off to the storeroom for god knows what kind of perversion.

Anyway, the burger (I opted for the Verde Burger, which featured a large hunk of roasted Anaheim pepper) was fantastic. Good quality veggies, a large patty, and a tasty bun rounded things out nicely, all reasonably priced at under $5.00. I couldn't complain; there is no more satisfying form of nourishment than a large, greasy, salty burger -- especially when still in the coils of a post-ride hunger. The fries and onion rings (fried in 100% peanut oil) tasted like they were made from actual vegetables, a plus to be sure. The milkshake, however, was decidedly sub-prime. Small, and overpriced (at least compared to the shakes I'm used to in Walla Walla and/or Boise's burger dives), it failed to deliver a knock-out-punch. All in all, I'd give the Red Mill a 4.35 our of 5.

I also had the pleasure of interviewing a former Red Mill employee. None other than the famous Cooper Lange, a fellow good-for-nothing promising amateur road racer who quit his job in pursuit of cycling-based glory. Or something. I had the opportunity of interviewing him, and then chose to embellish that interview beyond recognition:

Me: So Cooper, you worked at the Red Mill for how long?

Cooper: um...[plays coyly with my thigh]. Hehehehehehe. [writhes in laughter. spasms involuntarily] --SNORT--.

Me: Was it fun working at Red Mill?

Cooper: [chortle, through tears] I'm sorry. I don't know. Uh I usually ate chicken. One breast per day.

Me: So tell me about your attractive female co-workers.

Cooper: [suddenly alert] Oh, they were attractive. [pregnant pause. Cooper's gaze drifts towards the ceiling] And young.

Me: How young?

Cooper: [Pregnant, but then aborted pause] Like, "I don't work there any more because I don't want to end up in jail" young.

Me: I don't follow...

Cooper: Don't bullshit me Sam; your parole officer would beg to differ [hearty guffaw].

Cooper: I don't guffaw, you idiot.

Me: [nervous adjustment of shirt collar] anyway, back to the Red Mill, honestly -- how many tequila shots did you require to survive a day of working there?

Cooper: heheheheh [dazed expression floats across Cooper's face, mirroring the long forgotten memories of drunken debauchery that surface and float across his consciousness] Sometimes as little as three. When things got bad I'd just drink the toilet bowl cleaner. Then those damn songbirds would shut the hell up, ya know?

Me: yeah man. I dig.


christopher walken said...

you misspell my name jackass. my name lange. with an E. christ. wanna go get some donuts?

Perhaps a Parrot said...

oops. please never ask to see my balls again.