when my father was a Young Man in college? high school? he worked at a little Italian American place. it was mostly your typical spaghetti, lasagna, etc, but they had the picky eaters/kids menu, which featured grilled cheese.
one day, a man comes in and asks for a burned grilled cheese. the waitress specifies this to my father the line cook, and my father, being the chill guy that he is, thinks, k, whatever, he lets it get a little charred. gives it to the waitress.
guy sends it back. “not burned enough,” the waitress relays to my father. my father puts it back on the heat, lets it get solidly black on both sides, sends it out.
guy sends it black. “it’s...still not burned enough,” the waitress says, and i can’t imagine being in this poor woman’s shoes, dealing with whatever eldritch creature is hungering for straight carbon in the dining room of a tiny Italian place in approximately 1991.
my father thinks, what the hell. he sticks the sandwich in what is known as a Salamander, but is basically just a freestanding broiler. gets busy with something else. forgets about the grilled cheese. looks up. the grilled cheese is now ON FIRE.
he pulls the grilled cheese out. it’s...definitely burned now. burned straight through. it’s questionable if this is even considered a grilled cheese anymore, since it has been far more than grilled and there is nothing recognizable as cheese. what the hell. he sends it out with the waitress.
“he ate every bit,” the waitress tells my father.
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