Tiny Burgers

Here’s something I like to do to my kids that’s extremely dumb and entertaining only to myself.

Sometimes I make burgers for my kids for dinner.  Not all my kids, since Phaedra doesn’t really eat beef.  Bella and Surrey, however, are red-blooded American girls who lose their collective shit over burger night.


So I defrost a pound of ground beef, and I create about eight little burger patties, about two ounces each.  Then I cook them on my electric griddle, which, let me tell you, is probably the best kitchen appliance I’ve ever owned.  Seriously, I cook everything on that motherfucker.  If you don’t own one of these things, get thee to Target and pick one up today.  It will CHANGE YOUR LIFE.  Remember how great the Foreman grill was ten years ago?  This is about six million times better, I promise.  Scrambled eggs on an electric griddle is a goddamn game-changer.  I’d like to see the Foreman make scrambled eggs — OH WAIT, it can’t!  It’s too slanted and the eggs would just run off.  WHAT KIND OF GRIDDLE APPLIANCE CAN’T HANDLE SCRAMBLED EGGS?  In summation: ELECTRIC GRIDDLE — GET ON IT.

Anyways, I cook the burgers and put a half-slice of American cheese on top of each one.  Then, I put ketchup and mustard on hamburger buns, and put a burger on each bun.  I smoosh it way down, nice and squishy.

Here’s where it gets crazy: these little burgers, who are now about an ounce each after cooking, are crazy small.  They don’t even reach the edge of the bun.  But then, I go nuts: I cut those burgers into quarters.  What?  I KNOW!!!!!!

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This is the dumb part: during the cooking process, I serenade my kids every five minutes or so with a little song I made up .  It’s a cover song based on the night’s menu.  I happen to think it’s the funniest cover song I’ve ever come up with, and believe me, I’ve come up with about a million of them.  My children would probably disagree about how funny the song is, but I’m not even mad, because spending a solid hour belting out “HOLD ME CLOSER, TINY BUUUUUUUUURGERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRS!” to my kids all but makes up for the fact that I had to cook for them.

I am not exaggerating when I say it is my absolute favorite meal to cook solely because I get to do this to them.  The fact that Phaedra doesn’t even eat the burgers, but has to listen to me sing this obnoxious song to her all night long (because lets face it, the singing doesn’t really stop when I finish cooking the burgers) definitely does not escape my notice, and might possibly contribute to the pleasure I get from singing the song.


I just made that part up.

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6 Responses to Tiny Burgers

  1. Arnebya says:

    I love this. I do silly things when I make shit I know my kids detest. It’s less fun when I know they’re looking forward to it. A is for apple, is for anteater, is for alaska, is for algorithm, is for AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASPARAGUS ON YOUR PLATE! It’s as delightful as you think.

  2. monica says:

    gawd this is f*cking funny. i might have to follow another blog??? and now i can’t stop singing this ridiculous song??? thank you?

  3. angela says:

    Love the song, totally do the same thing. Not with that song, because that would be weird and Twilight Zone-like, but the singing about our food.

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