“I have a great idea.” David replied. “Want to go to Terry’s Turf Club?”
Terry’s Turf Club has been the talk of the town for the last few months. It seemed like everyone we discussed noms with had heard about or been to it. My mom, my coworkers, David's coworkers, fellow beer geeks. This is what we knew: Great burgers, great beers, great atmosphere.
Of course I wanted to go. We figured at around 2:00 on a Saturday, we might have better luck—Terry’s intimately small space is notoriously busy during normal eating hours. From our observance, the best time to go to Terry’s is about 3:15. By 4:30, the place is packed again.
We drove down along the river to Terry’s.
We drove past small houses, old sidewalks and Chevys with peeling paint, past old factories and industrial buildings. Then, like a bright burger star on the Horizon, we saw it.
Across the street from Terry's
“Yes, I want to be spoiled!" I turned to David. " To the bar!” I enthusiastically proclaimed.
Inside of Terry's looking towards the door
Hopslam. Oh Terry, you shouldn’t have.
You can also see the seafood options on the board to the right of the beer. Scallops and swordfish? Yay!
Behold ye mortals; the true burger king!
David's thumb being pulled in by delicious burger tractor beam
For dessert, David and I split a Rogue Chocolate Stout.