I hate to sound like the typical gaijin, but…

…Ever since I came to Japan, I’ve been craving a GOOD
burger. I’ve been to the Redrock Pub in Nagoya and had the biggest
burger I’ve laid eyes on, but it wasn’t that tasty: a reasonable meat
patty, half of a tomato, and a couple pieces of lettuce enveloped in a
football-sized bun. When I was eating it, I could taste tomato and
bun… I knew the meat was there, because I saw it, and I could feel
it, but I just couldn’t taste it.

I'm hard, like a rock

Today, I had the opportunity to go to the Hard Rock
Cafe in Nagoya.

This was actually my first time to visit this brand of
establishment. Ever. It never intrigued me, before. But I had
expectations of a decent burger. The atmosphere was great. The staff
were good looking, and spoke decent English. The music was good; I
liked every song. It was busy. All these things did not matter to me. I
was only interested in the burger.

1500 yen? Bring it on. How would I like it, she asks? Medium rare. I
knew it would be good. I mean, I just had to look at the amount of
flare the staff were wearing. The place was decorated with autographed
guitars. They played Elvis. It *had* to be good!

It was fucking delicious.

It was fucking delicious.

I had finally found my holy grail, and could put down my sword
and shield. However, I decided I’d play it safe, and visit the import
store, as well. I bought corn chips and salsa with great plans of
avocado, onion, and cheese soon to follow. Oh yes, this will be the
“epic-er” nachos, and I will even take pictures of them BEFORE

The End


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