Restaurant: Yango's Burgers and Stuff
Intersection: Broadway & Surf
Rating: 2.5/5
February 2nd, 2011:
Manlius, NY will have an unexpected effect on you. You will, all of the sudden, not trust the local weather. 18 years there have colored me to expect big talk from the news and soft weather. Essentially, weather guy says, “Shit will go down”, I expect to be underwhelmed.
But I’m not in Manlius anymore. I’m in Chicago. Shit went down. Thundersnow, to be exact. Lots of thundersnow. Lots of regular snow, too. Lots of cold. Lots of wind. It was the blizzard that the Channel 3 news had promised me for all of my Public School days. It was everything I expected and so much more[1].
Now, it’s less than 24 hours later. The thundersnow has been silenced. The streets and sidewalks have been attended to and I’ve run out of Stouffer’s macaroni and cheese. I’ve never been one to ration properly. I’d make a terrible pioneer.
It’s time to bundle and bundle good. Because it’s still fucking cold. One long sleeve shirt, one hoodie, a thick pair of jeans and a heavy coat later and I’m ready to venture out into this new tundra. My courtyard has been snow-blown into the only lesson I remember about World War I.
It’s cold. Did I mention it’s cold? Because it’s cold[2]. Buckingham Pl. resembles something out of a Jake Gyllenhal disaster movie. The sidewalks have paths cleared in them, but the roads are a different story. Buckingham, like Aldine and Melrose after it, isn’t completely plowed. The point where these streets meet Broadway is covered in mounds of snow that’s just soft enough to sink under any’s weight. I cross these intersections, using a path made up of other people’s footprints, hoping that my one of my “Go-to Restaurants” is open. Alas, I get to Broadway and Belmont and Chicken Hut, like Chipolte, kitty corner to it, is closed. No, there will be no grilled chicken tonight. I keep walking down Broadway. The record shop is closed. The deli is closed. The diner is closed. The burrito place is…open. But I don’t want a burrito.
‘I’ve come this far’, I think to myself. I keep trudging down Broadway, to Wellington. But alas, Crisp, the greatest fried chicken place in the world, is also closed.
I’m hungry and all of my options have been shot down. ‘Wouldn’t it be fun’, I think to myself, ‘If that burger place was open.’
“I’ve come this far.” Yes, after being cooped up during [snow related disaster pun], I’ve begun to talk to myself. But I am right. I have come this far[3].
I keep trudging down Broadway. I get to Surf and, my god, the light is on.
I immediately scurry into this establishment. I can’t quite place what it is. It’s part Gyro-place, part Burger Joint. I don’t really know what to classify it as. There’s faux-brick on the wall and there’s very loud oldies radio playing.
I make my way to the counter. I order a Bacon Cheeseburger, fries and a Faygo root beer[4]. It comes to an even $10. Then the guy behind me orders a much larger item, also $10. I can only assume, on a day like today, the staff just doesn’t feel like doing math. I wouldn’t either.
I stand around for some time, holding my liter of Faygo and waiting for my Bacon Cheeseburger. Eventually, my food arrives and I sit down with it.
I’ll admit. This is a pretty ordinary burger. A little burnt. A little thin. The bacon is scorched and the fries came from a bag in the freezer. But overall, I’m happy. This is truly the only burger I can get right now. Alas, not being 21, I can’t get a bar burger[5].
But, I have to say, if there’s no place else you can eat, Yango’s Burgers and Stuff isn’t half-bad. I can’t truly relate the quality of this burger because of the circumstances.
I think that’s what this blog is really about, quite frankly. Who the fuck am I to tell you where to eat and where not to eat[6]? So, who the fuck am I to say that Yango’s shouldn’t be written about? Do they not get points for being willing to be open on a day like today?
I don’t finish my burger. I finish most of it. Most of the fries, too. I finish the Faygo[7]. I rebundle. I leave. I trudge back up Broadway. I go to Walgreens. I need more Macaroni and Cheese.
Walgreens is full of couples, bundled up and restocking. Holding hands. Giggling about surviving [snow related disaster pun]. I can hear one couple giggle about the “guy with three boxes of mac ‘n cheese and a bag of chips.” I know that's me.
“How lonely?”, I actually hear someone say that. It was followed by a giggle and an excited “Shh”. Well, I can’t say I didn’t impact someone’s day. I ponder hibernation. I’d need more Macaroni and Cheese for that, though.
[1] Did I mention THUNDERSNOW?
[2] So. Fucking. Cold. Holy. Tapdancing. Jesus.
[3] And I can just barely feel my face.
[4] I’ve still yet to find out how magnets work.
[5] Or some of that “We Survived The [snow related disaster pun]” sex.
[6] Ross Fucking Berman, that’s who.
[7] No, seriously, what the fuck’s up with magnets?
