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| - When I was younger, many times a year, my family returned to Toronto to visit family, and on nearly every occasion we made a special trip to Burger Shack, which we inexplicably have renamed "Bongo Burger" (so much so that we've told people we'll meet them at Bongo Burger, only to be met with their blank stares).
My Bubbe Ida passed in her 100th year, and in the last 5-10 years of her life, first her taste buds started to go, then she began to forget the foods she loved. At 97, for instance, she revealed to us that she'd never had and disliked gelato, though she'd been enjoying it her whole life. But, she never forgot Burger Shack, and she always perked up for an outing to get half (or slightly less) of a Banquet Burger.
With little effort I can feel the crispy edges of the char-grilled Banquet Burger in my mouth, along with the sensation of trying to pick the whole thing up, loaded high with condiments and veggies you get to choose. Then there are the great fries, with thick, dark-brown gravy, and a pink cream soda to wash everything down.
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