Last night Kendrick, Michael, Jerry and I swung by Jackson Hole for burgers, milkshakes, and some QT with the gang. I haven’t been to Jackson Hole since I was ten or so, but fortunately I remembered enough to know that burger-splitting would be absolutely imperative (look at that thing!). That’s a Santa Fe burger, with guacamole, onions, and cheddar…and that’s where the “delicious” portion of the evening comes to a screeching halt.
I didn’t take a picture, ’cause it was disgusting, but Michael’s burger came absolutely raw. Not “rare”…raw. Like, completely untouched by any heat source at all. And while I get that such things happen, such happenings should also come with, say, a complimentary dessert or discount, or at the very least a sincere apology from the server and stepped-up service (not: “Oh, you want that cooked more?” followed by a 45-minute wait for a check).
