He got the double MC, I got the Fatburger combo and we got the chocolate milkshake. I just have to say, Paul always gets the best burgers or sandwiches. When I tried his double MC and was reminded of the moment we had at American Cheesesteak. He had the rib sandwich there and it was slathered in barbeque sauce. I remember not being too interested in my sandwich at Cheesesteak after. The special sauce Fatburger slathers on the double patty for the double MC obviously had that smoky BBQ taste in it and other herby goodness that my Fatburger combo seemed like a pretty straightforward, BLT ontop of my patty.
We observed the amount of Canucks jerseys on and wondered what was going on in the sports world and why everyone was in their hockey duds. I picked at my fries and still felt hungry and indecisively wanted to get another burger. I just didn’t want to because having two Fatburgers is embarassing on a Sunday morning date, but I wanted it because my body had craved the over-the-top, greasy Sunday breakfast that knocks you into a coma and leaves you too fat to function. And with just the single patty Fatburger combo, I felt not gross enough. I know Paul did with his double MC. He was sweet enough to buy me a Baby Fatburger. (I love how they call out: “Babyfat!” when you order it)
The Baby Fat definitely left me in a form of torso paralysis. Good job Fatburger. The only complaint I’d have is it is a pretty standard burger for a high price, but I assume it’s because of the Alberta beef. I’m torn on celebrating its epicosity versus the other gourmet burgers that are smaller but more delicious in the city.