Reader, I Ate An Entire Cow

Indulge me as I complain about my job, just this once.

I know, I realize that it's not easy to imagine how eating for a living could be anything but a glamorous, caviar-studded chimera wherein breakfast, lunch and dinner consist of splendid gastronomic fairyland moments of bliss.

It really is that, most of the time. But I'm here to set you straight: while working on January's awesome Burger issue, I am convinced that I ate a cow. Maybe more than one cow. I likely took out a herd of cattle, people.

The 25 burgers that made it into the issue account for about a third (maybe less!) of the burgers I tasted in order to put the issue together. I spent about six weeks eating hamburgers three days a week, all over town: I drove from White Center to Woodinville, from Renton to Lynnwood on burger hunts. And here's the kicker: I tasted two or three burgers each of those three days (I survied by eating half or less of each burger and dropping off the rest to someone who looked hungry on the street).

I'm not a mathematician, but that's, what? 75 burgers a week, give or take? That's what it felt like. I had beef hangovers. I'm as carnivorous as the next gal, but if there was an Olympics of ground meat eating, I'd be on that podium. Believe me.

So please enjoy the January burger issue. Please go eat the kickass burgers that this city has to offer, like the one at Local 360 (my all-around favorite for it's steak-like flavor), the one at Jules Maes (a juicy lamb burger in a tavern=perfection), and the surprisingly great turkey burger at Teddy's Bigger Burgers in Woodinville. It's been a couple of months since the epic burger trek, I've mostly recovered, so you just might bump into me there.

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