His Specialty
Usually after a long day’s work, I head straight home from work. But, on this particular day I decided to go to a nearby café once I got out of Bart off at 24th and Mission. I went into the first cafe I saw, Café La Bohème. It sounded like a nice place to relax while enjoying a nice coffee brew. I settled down to the table adjacent to the window watching passerbyers. After a while, I felt that someone was watching me. I examined the room and spotted a man looking directly at me. I look away hoping that he would stop. The man comes up to me and pulls out a scarf. “I believe this is yours. I saw it fall while you were in line,” says the man.
“Oh, thank you! That’s so sweet of you,” I say smiling.
“I’m sorry for staring at you, but I believe you went to Mission High.”
I paused to analyze the man to see if I can recognize him. He had a lean body, greasy black hair, and there was a light scent of cologne. Overall, he was handsome. “Yes. I think you were in my English class. You’re Gaby- Gabriel!”
He nods. Once we get acquainted again. He sits next to me and we talk about high school memories and update one another of our lives. Gabriel tells me that since high school he has been moving from job to job. Right now he got a job as a mortician at the nearby funeral home. He says although it’s strange and eerie seeing dead bodies all day long, he’s guaranteed a job in a crazy city like San Francisco. After some time talking, we exchange numbers and he invites me to his place for some dinner in the next few days.
He lives in one of the typical victorian style houses, but it was converted into an apartment. It was on the corner of 24th and South Van Ness. I walked up the stairs toward his apartment and knocked on the door. He welcomes me in and the fresh scent of lysol hits me. There were several pieces of carpets laid out across the hardwood floor as if he was hiding something. He led me to the kitchen, I saw everything neatly laid out on the countertop, and they were all ingredients to make burgers.
“So, we’re making burgers?” I assumed.
“Correct. It took me years to perfect this recipe, but now I have it.” He added two pounds of ground meat that were laid out to thaw. He placed the bags in two seperate bags, and not in any ordinary grocery packet. There were pre-cut onions set in a smaller bowl that he added into the larger bowl. From the cabinet above the counter he gathered all the spices and sauces. He added in the right amount of turmeric, cumin, salt, and pepper. Then, he added in a generous amount of Worcestershire sauce. He said this is what will make it extra juicy. With his hands he mixed the ingredients together. I felt guilty he was doing all the cooking so, I asked if I could help. I assisted in turning the mix meat into round patties. He set the patties down on the preheated pan on the stove. Once the patties were laid on the pan, the sound of the sizzle rose and the beefy smell of the burgers filled the kitchen. While the meat cooked, he toasted the buns over a separate pan. He served me my patty and bun first, and added mustard, mayo, lettuce, tomato, and onions. It was as if I was a guest at a restaurant being treated with the top of the line service and being served their specialty. Gabriel serves me the burger that looks like it would be pictured in one of those food magazine, and not served from this very kitchen. I held the burger with both hands as the juice squeezed out of the patty. I took the first bite as the juice dripped onto the plate. My eye widen from that first bite as it encapsulated all the flavor from the ingredients. I take another bite and another. I n minutes the burger was destroyed. I make myself another burger, but this time I eat slowly to admire it’s deliciousness.
I saw that there were still a lot of burgers leftover enough to feed a Mexican family. He packs the remaining in tin foil, and puts them in a plastic bag. “I usually give the leftovers to my neighbors. This time I’ll even pack you some to take home.” I smile and thank him for the warm offering.
The next few days, I come home and start to flip through the channels eager to find something amusing to satisfy my boredom. There was nothing on, so I stop on the evening news. The anchor man declares breaking news. The TV shifts to a crime scene at a residence home with yellow caution tape around the complex and police lights shining off and on. The camera scopes in on the apartment door inside of a familiar house. “As you can see here folks, residence of this apartment complex have experienced suspicious activity around their home. Officials have confirmed reports of cannibalism taken place at the home of Gabriel Muñoz. Neighbors have reported being served suspicious dinners from Munoz for quite some time.”
I pause from watching the news and look over to the kitchen counter where the burger laid untouched wrapped in tin foil.