Patty Melt Love

For our comfort today

Photo by Fiona Calisti on Unsplash

I hate to confess such things publicly (yeah, sure), but once in our early high school days, my best friend Jimbo and I snuck out of his house to go with two girls to the local Pitt Grill. I suppose the Pitt Grill was a chain, and I don’t know if any are left, though Google tells me there are some in Atlanta and in Alexandria, LA. I doubt I’ll make the effort or drive, though part of me really wants to.

I’m not sure why the four of us drove to the Pitt Grill that night. It’s funny, but it seems that if you’re going to go to all the risk and trouble of sneaking out to meet girls, you could do better than a Pitt Grill. We could have chosen Pasquale’s, though why that would have been better, I don’t know.

My memory is that one of the girls had a terrific crush on Jimbo, which seemed to be the case most always back in these days. She had a friend, and I was already spending the night with him. The girls were Melissa and Kathy, so all secrets are out, and Kathy and I had gone to elementary school together, though she was an older woman (by one grade).

And I want to assure Jimbo’s parents that everything was on the up and up (aside from the sneaking out). We didn’t cause any trouble; we didn’t harass anyone; and we didn’t even go somewhere after to “make out.”

I wonder if I dreamed all of this because it makes so little sense now.

The Pitt Grill was in a shopping center near Jimbo’s house, the same shopping center where the Bessemer Twin Theatre was located (where I saw both The Last Picture Show and Walking Tall, not to mention “After-the-Game-Horror-Shows” like The Abominabke Dr. Phibes).

So, on a cold fall Thursday night when we were sophomores in high school, the four of us filled a corner booth in Pitt Grill, eating sandwiches and drinking cokes and coffee.

Weren’t we something?

Sure, we could have been caught, but we weren’t. I would confess a later escapade, but my daughters read these stories, and some things you just don’t want the young women in your life to know.

I remember that Kathy’s car was one of those mid-sized Ford’s that had an enormous interior, and I don’t remember if Jimbo and Melissa sat in the back, or if he and I did. Life seemed tentative even for the bold back then. We all knew about Melissa’s crush, but I’ll leave it to the principals to comment, if they ever choose to, on what that meant to them then, or even now.

Because mainly what I want to describe is my sandwich that night:

My first Patty Melt.

Is it weird to confess that until that night the thought never crossed my mind that you might grill a burger on rye bread? That you could add onions (something my mother never let me order on a burger until then) and mustard and call this a slice of heaven?

I remember seeing it on the menu, and though I scanned other orders, I kept coming back to the Patty Melt. I had to have it.

I certainly can’t attest to the quality of the sandwich compared to others I’ve had (and nothing can beat the deep-fried cheeseburger I once had somewhere in Wyoming); nor can I say anything about the actual quality and standard of the meat Pitt Grill used (that all my friends referred to the restaurant as “Arm Pit” might be a clue).

Still, the Patty Melt that night was the best part of the experience, which should embarrass me, yet it really doesn’t.

We snuck back in later, and fell asleep that night with warmth, and music from WSGN-AM 610 lulling us (if you can say that about Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love”).

I’ve had other patty melts in my life, and now I make them semi-regularly. I usually use organic ground chuck, though I have used ground turkey on occasion and you could always substitute a veggy patty of your choice.

Once, when i decided to make one for myself, I offered to make another for my semi-vegetarian (I know) wife.

“No,” she said, and went on making her salad.

But when she smelled the grilling onions, and saw the finished burger on my plate, she somewhat sheepishly took back her “No.”

I hadn’t yet told her about Pitt Grill and that night, but I guess she’s ready for it now.

Oh, and she loved her patty melt, too.

OLD-FASHIONED PATTY MELT

Select your choice of meat — I prefer ground chuck, because it is not too lean and thus is more juicy in the end.

Grill some chopped onions in butter, and add your patty to them after the onions have semi-wilted.

Cook burger to your favorite temp, then remove it and onions to two slices of rye bread, with your choice of cheese (I prefer Swiss) already laid on. Add mustard, or mayo if you must, and then place sandwich back in pan with more butter already heated. Grill on both sides until cheese has melted and bread is toasty and saturated.

Cut in half and serve with pickles, chips, and anything else you’re not supposed to have (Coca-Cola?).

And then, if you’re like me, take your statin later and be thankful.

I know you’ll enjoy, and should you want to meet up one night at a nearby Pitt Grill, just let me, and maybe Jimbo, know.