Trisha's burger
After having my facial warts removed in a dermatology clinic, I determined to eat at Trisha's along Alunan Avenue. This locally grown fast food chain still serves one of the best burgers in the world. You can disagree with me, of course: the patty is thin and massively laden with oil, the cheese isn't spectacular, and so on. The Trisha's cheeseburger probably tastes like those sold at Burger Machine, which in the early 2000s enjoyed the same popularity as the milk tea shops do now. But growing up, Trisha's was as close we could get to a Jollibee. We would troop here, my high school friends and I, to treat ourselves during afternoon snacks with our meager daily allowance whenever there were athletic events at the nearby SMRAA, or whenever there were competitions at the nearby DepEd South Cotabato compound. (We usually won: go, KNCHS!)
I no longer recognized the lady at the counter. I did not recognize anyone at all. I ordered the usual ham, cheese, and egg sandwich, with a can of Coke Zero. I sat al fresco on an unpretentious red plastic monoblock chair and watched the tricycles and other vehicles pass by the main street of Marbel. I felt nostalgic. My father used to bring us here, back in the days when Trisha's served mustard and the store was more jam-packed (now, it's Pinoy style ketchup and hot sauce, repackaged in squeezable plastic containers). I imagined he would have ordered same things I had ordered, but would have asked if I liked to buy another burger before I finished eating.
I relish this yearly pilgrimage to small stores I used to frequent as a kid growing up. Trisha's, always at the top of my list, reconnects me to memories of old, when my father was still alive, when I spoke terrible Tagalog, when my idea of the world was Marbel and everything around it.
I no longer recognized the lady at the counter. I did not recognize anyone at all. I ordered the usual ham, cheese, and egg sandwich, with a can of Coke Zero. I sat al fresco on an unpretentious red plastic monoblock chair and watched the tricycles and other vehicles pass by the main street of Marbel. I felt nostalgic. My father used to bring us here, back in the days when Trisha's served mustard and the store was more jam-packed (now, it's Pinoy style ketchup and hot sauce, repackaged in squeezable plastic containers). I imagined he would have ordered same things I had ordered, but would have asked if I liked to buy another burger before I finished eating.
I relish this yearly pilgrimage to small stores I used to frequent as a kid growing up. Trisha's, always at the top of my list, reconnects me to memories of old, when my father was still alive, when I spoke terrible Tagalog, when my idea of the world was Marbel and everything around it.
mybkexperience.work food quality.
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