Twice in my life I've eaten deep-fried cheeseburgers. The first was years ago, and second was tonight. It was by accident. The evening's meal started off ordinarily enough. I wanted to go someplace healthy, fairly quick and cheap, and near my house. I stopped twice on the sidewalk to mull my options while walking around trying to find a restaurant. A woman asked if I was lost and I told her I was just trying to decide where to eat. She didn't offer any suggestions. I ended up at a place I used to frequent, but their menu had changed. Gone was the beet salad and chicken sandwich, now the healthiest thing on it was two brats served with sauerkraut, so I went with the hamburger and a plan to eat double-healthy the next day. When the burger arrived it had been cooked like normal, only finished by being wrapped in dough and dropped into a deep fryer. The server asked if everything was okay, and I told her that the food looked great, but I'd had my blood pressure taken earlier in the day and wasn't looking forward to an early demise.
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