Pounders

Well, once again it came the time of the year for all of us to make the annual trip to the Silver Star Diner in Chester Town to chow 1lb burgers.  This tradition was started when my buddy Stumpy about 7 years ago took my buddy Hurley up to a crazy diner he had found with a giant rooster in the front of it.  Chris Hurley then introduced my best bro Matt Jones to it and they began stopping there on their route back to college at RIT and Geneseo respectively.  About two years after this began they introduced me to the diner and the challenge of eating a one pound burger!  When I first started going we would just pop on into the place, sit at the counter, have a cold one and chow those greasy abominations of meat.  Gradually the group started to grow to include a bunch of Stumpy's snowmobiling buddies and we in turn invited our friends like Dennis Russell, Matt's brother, Ken Wilhelm, Steve Britton and whoever else we could challenge into eating one of these things.  We even made a trip up on motorcycles as part of Matt's bachelor party.  Any special occasion was soon a cause to go up and there and clog our arteries.  Soon it became apparent that we no longer fit at the counter and had to be moved to the dining room.  It also became apparent that showing up with 15-20 guys demanding pounders was not a cool thing to do to the one and only poor chef!  Home movies have been made about what's now become a ritual and I've even heard stories about people having to pull over on the way home cause their stomach couldn't handle meat stewing in it.  The small pack of cars that used to travel up together to nosh burgers has ballooned to a convoy of vehicles packed with carnivores ranging from the mid teens to the fathers of kids I've grown up with (Mr. Britton).  Now we have to call well in advance to warn the poor chef of the impending parade of animals that would soon be invading his the small diner.  This year we counted 48 people in attendance and we took up the entire back room of the place.  I sat at the head table which unfortunately for me was served last so I had to endure 45 minutes of greasy high fives and gagging all around me as polished off their beef.  Rules have now been applied to the festivities such as 1. You can't put down the burger down once you've picked it up (this rule I find easy because the bread is homemade and has giant holes in it that leak grease, ketchup or anything else you have on the burger through them, but I use them as finger holds to grip the dam thing).  2. You can't touch napkins while eating it (this would be stupid anyway because by the time your halfway through the thing the breads been ripped apart and probably eaten and your just holding a large wad of meat in your hands so you'll need the napkins afterwards).  My burger was barely cooked so I decided to put my 70's gold aviators to tone down the bloody red center of the burger so I could power through it.  Being that it's a holiday tradition I also have my santa hat on... Look for me in the photo from the paper (yes, the local newspaper finally heard obout our shinanigans (I swear I'll pistol whip the next person who says that!) and wrote a story about us.  We always try to get a picture with the chef and waitresses in front of the rooster afterwards (The rooster itself has a rich history as it was once stolen!).  Anyway...good times, good beef, and good buddies!  POUNDERS!!!

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