Doin' Jack

It's a little embarrassing that my personal hero is not a religious figure, great person in history, or famous academic. Respectable LDS academics should try to choose their personal heroes wisely, but I have not. And don't get me started on my favorite books, movies, or TV shows. Ugh.

But the fact of the matter is, my personal hero is Adam Richman. He hosts Man vs Food on the Travel Channel and has what is unquestionably the best job in the known universe, which is eating for a living. For the uninitiated, Man vs Food has Adam visiting a different city each episode, eating in some great pig-out places, and then undertaking one selected restaurant's food challenge, which he often wins (especially if it involves very hot food) but sometimes loses (mostly in cases that involve sheer volume of food).

Of course, being a member of the Fraternity of the Crossed Forks (Motto: "Cardiologist? What's a Cardiologist?") I would love to visit those same places and eat those same wonderful things. Maybe more slowly, but still. So when I went to Denver a couple of weeks ago and had a chance to go to Jack-n-Grill, scene of the Denver episode's "Seven pound burrito challenge," well, you know I had to go, dragging my unwitting travel companions along if necessary.

Of course, the need to go there was particularly acute because my son had actually gone there last May during a road trip involving a Decemberists concert. His adventure is documented in his own blog post, which I will let you find if you care enough, but won't provide a link for because I think Colin Maloy sings like a goat and don't want to encourage him (my son, not Colin). However, the relevant pictures are these:













Left, my son about to do battle. Below, the battle being waged with the help of friend Tucker. Notice that, despite three refills of Mt. Dew, Tucker still appears to be falling asleep.



Anyway, my son had been-there-done-that so I saw this as a chance to bond a little, long distance, using food, which is my usual method of bonding with pretty much everyone. This one's for you, son.

We arrived at the Jack-n-Grill full of expectations, and after a 45 minute wait for a table, I found myself sitting in what I now know was the same spot my son's party occupied -- right by the glass door. Indeed, I was sitting right where Tucker sat.

Apparently there is something about that particular seat that makes you sleepy, despite three refills of Diet Coke.

We detected a theme in the decor. A certain Jack-iness, including but not limited to: Nicholson, Sparrow, Hungry, One-Eyed, Links, Broken Crowned, and Nimble.




No, I did not order the burrito. A man needs to know his limits, an old man even more so. I settled for a couple of smothered chimichangas, of which I only ate one.


The Divine Ms B, however, was the hero of the day. She ordered a Juarez Burger.


In case like me you have old eyes and can't read that, it says:

A full 10 oz. patty of fresh ground chuck, ham, hot-dog, fresh green chile, cheese, guacamole, mayo.

And so it was.

I consider it a work of art, sort of awe-inspiring, but no more so than the Divine Ms B's dedicated assault on it:


And the final result was commendable.

At this point in the meal, the Divine Ms B leaned over to me and said, "I want you to know I could have finished it, but I wanted to save some for later." I believe her. She is an honest person.

The Hero of the Day, in my book.

And to Dan and Roni Jo: thanks, you were good sports.