It was a dark and stormy night. Ah, no. That's Snoopy's line. And it wasn't nighttime. And it wasn't stormy. But it was dark, inside at least. But let me back up a bit.
On Sunday, Rob and I left the chilly temps of Key West and moved north to Hollywood, Florida where we'd be colder and closer to the airport for our flight the next day.
Another reason to head to Hollywood was a special gastronomical adventure that Rob wanted me to experience. The site of this adventure? Le Tub. Here's a brief history of Le Tub from its website: Established November 2nd 1959 as a Sunoco gas station.... Closed by the energy crunch of the early seventies, your Host purchased the barren property in 1974 and dedicated a concentrated year personally hand building LeTub totally of Flotsam, Jetsam and ocean borne treasures all gathered daily over 4 years of day break jogging on Hollywood Beach.
Le Tub is barely visible behind foliage and bamboo fencing. A hand-painted sign is the only indication that there's something lurking there along the Inter-Coastal Waterway. Most of the seating is outdoors along the water with a lovely view of the yachts passing by. Of course, the frigid temperatures weren't going to accommodate outdoor dining so we were ushered into the bowels of Le Tub. And "bowels" is really an appropriate word since the landscaping featured many a toilet bowl. But wait, it gets better.
We entered the darkest restaurant I've ever been in in my life. Not romantic dark. Just dark. As in, no lighting. We passed a group of locals at the "community table" and as we took our seat in a corner by the window I was overcome by a fear of the unseen. Who knows what could have been lurking in those corners, under the table, on the table, at the bar, in the kitchen? And the fish nets hanging from the ceiling, I could just imagine what was caught in those things, and potentially dropping onto my food.
A familiar yet misplaced scent permeated the place. It turned out to be a wood-burning fireplace. Again, not for romance, but for heat. There was literally no other source of heat in the place. At our seat near the window I could actually see my breath. That was a first!
And then came the food. Le Tub is known for its burgers. In fact, according to its website, GQ and The Oprah Winfrey Show both claimed they had the best burgers in the country. As a meat and potatoes kind of girl, this held great potential. As I watched the guy in the kitchen (can you call something the size of a small closet a kitchen?), I sensed good things. He was back there making the patties by hand and cutting the lettuce and tomatoes.
So we ordered. Chips and homemade salsa, french fries, and a couple beers to hold us over while our 13 ounce cheeseburgers were cooking. I should note that we only ordered the fries so that the heat from them would warm us up. Of course we didn't need fries seeing as we were about to ingest 13 ounces of ground beef .
And then they arrived.
And they were wonderful. And it was worth seeing my breath because of the cold. And it was worth eating in the dark. And it was worth passing the toilet bowls on the way in and out. Because really, a good cheeseburger is one of the finest treats on earth.
I leave you with just one final thought. Thirteen ounces is a whole lotta meat. You might want to share yours with a friend. And if you need a friend, just call me, preferably when we can dine outdoors!
2 comments:
I have to laugh at this, the seeing your breath part at least, as I had a similar dining experience. I took Michelle out for Valentines Day last year, possibly the year before, to a new place that was so cold we both needed to keep our coats on to eat. I only wish our food was as good as your burger was. Not what I would call the most romantic dinner, but I was with my lovely wife, so that counted for something.
Ok Dood - you need a camera! I want to see this place and the burger!! Now Im completely hungry for one. Doesnt seem like Wimpy's will meaure up but perhaps I'll go hamburger slumming for lunch.
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