The horror stories compounded. Getting your wisdom teeth extracted created innumerable problems ranging from bruises to sleepless nights. As friends and family consoled me about the oncoming surgery, no one seemed to understand my true discontent. Liquid food. It took weeks of sympathetic head-tilts until finally my aunt pointed out the real concern. I would be deprived of an entire week or more worth of good nosh. But I had the will to persevere.
After the inebriating drugs wore off, I piled into creating decent food for my sore but insatiable desires. Jello, pudding and soup. It took several hours before this got tiring. I craved crunchy snacks like nuts and cereal, never mind being able to open my jaw wide enough to enjoy a decent sandwich. But the misery didn't last long and was rewarded tenfold. Almost exactly two weeks after my teeth were extracted, my gradual return to solid food was complete with the delicious culmination of the perfect burger.
My jaw didn't click or crack when I began devouring the burger. The back of my mouth wasn't sore and every bite was full of deep grilled flavor with the perfect accoutrement of rich caramelized onions and crisp lettuce and tomato. No ketchup needed. I have never eaten another burger without condiments and been so pleased. Each scrumptious note of the burger blended together in a wondrous symphony. It even made me push away the perfectly season sweet potato fries that lounged at its side. The path from surgery to burger was slippery and bland, but it forced me to savor success.