Burgers and Dirt
Choosing a favorite burger place in Joplin was easy; it was Eagle or it was Eagle. Choosing a favorite burger place in Indy, however, is like choosing a favorite child. (I assume – the only children I’ve had are food babies and none of them have hit the status of favorite. Regret, yes, but not favorite.)
So I’ve taken the only route available – my favorite is the last one I consumed. This time it’s The Local. Or as I like to call it, Hipster Haven.
I initially thought it was called The Local because it was one of those places where everyone knows everyone and they all stop and stare as you loiter at the hostess stand for the longest 30 seconds of your life. Then I checked out the website and discovered it’s less Sweet Home Alabama and more farm to table (there was also a brief period of time where Jesse was convinced it was a breakfast place but that’s neither here nor there). And like the good little suburban yuppies we are, we got all kinds of excited.
Is it beer? Is it pee? Who cares? It’s in a mason jar!
The real excitement, however, came with the food. It’s entirely possible it was 100% related to the fact that it was almost 9 in the pm and we were ravenous, but holy shemoligans it was good. I can vouch for the baked goat cheese, BBQ bacon cheeseburger, and lamb burger. I also highly recommend getting the tater tots over the fries if for no other reason than you can a) relive your elementary school days and b) quote Napoleon Dynamite the entire meal.
In other news, we officially lost our minds and bought a crapton of dirt. They say we’ll have a house on said dirt in October, and last week we helped move the process along by choosing our colors. Other than me briefly feeling like Rachel in the episode of Friends where she can’t see the baby in the sonogram (I don’t care what the lady said, all the trim was the exact same color), it was a fun little process that made me antsier than I already am.
The top is outside, the bottom is inside. Here’s hoping my mind and real life are one and the same.
These builders have no idea what a nightmare they’re in for.
Soybeans, Too 