By Adrienne Smith

Nov. 11, 2015:  Summer may have come and gone, but I continue to consider some of the highlights of my August cross-country jaunt. 

I could mention the hotels, the museums, the regional cuisines, even our self-abasing excursions to see the office and residence of Minnesota's evil lion-killing dentist, but those things are not really what first comes to mind. 

Rather, I would like to report on the internal conflict I have yet to resolve on whether White Castle or Krystal hamburgers reign supreme. 

White Castle, as you may know, is primarily a Midwest outfit, with a happy leap over intervening territory to the New York metropolitan area. What you probably don't know is that it is considered to be the first fast-food chain in America and that, in 2013, Time magazine denominated its burgers "the patties which made the biggest impact on the burger industry--and the world at large." 

White Castle's historical eminence stems from its efforts to tout system-wide cleanliness, both by rigid, uniform standards and by the creation of its white metal exteriors, all of which stood for purity and healthfulness. From its creation in Wichita, Kansas, in 1921 until today, it has been privately owned and operated and numbers in excess of 420 shining beacons of ground-meat heaven. 

Krystal operates in a parallel universe through the Southeast and into Tennessee and Kentucky. Its founder was frankly influenced by White Castle, and it serves square-cut hamburgers similar to those of its pre-existing model. It is the oldest hamburger chain in its region and was named to convey, once again, a sense of clarity and cleanness. It is no longer family owned but is still in corporate, as opposed to franchise, hands. 

As I was driving along through territory that offered little in the way of gourmet nourishment, I yearned for one or the other chain to appear on the horizon. I went through a rough patch en route from New York to Columbus, Ohio, where the corporate headquarters of the Castle is maintained, and then again in Wisconsin, the Dakotas, Nebraska, and Kansas, but after that, it was smooth sailing. 

You might wonder from whence springs this unnatural craving for these quite similar, unassuming, and cheap little sliders. Well, let me tell you. 

First, most of the cells in my body have their nuclear origin in White Castles. They were my great treat growing up. Our family would stop at various locations on our way to visit one grandmother in New Jersey, where I would fill my chubby little body with one after another. When I obtained my junior driving license, I would motor illicitly over the Westchester border into the big city, wearing frighteningly red lipstick and a scarf to look "mature" so that I could visit the now-extinct spot on Fordham Avenue. What joy! 

As for Krystals, I spent August of 1967 in Jackson, Mississippi, in the company of a fellow law student who was working for the Mississippi Young Democrats. Jackson was then a scary place. Our neighbor in the complex we lived in was one DeLay Beckwith, suspected of murdering Medgar Evers in 1963, and who was then running for lieutenant governor using the campaign slogan "He's a straight shooter." (I might add that after two mistrials, he was finally convicted of Evers's murder 30 years later.) To calm my nerves and fill my empty hours, I repaired to a nearby Krystal for lunch each day and returned to New York at the end of the month weighing 25 more pounds than when I'd left. 

But inner conflict I must resolve, and resolve it in favor of White Castles. There is something totally divine about how the burgers are cooked, without flipping (four tiny holes in each make for even heat distribution), the sprinkling of fine-cut grilled onions, the top half of the roll resting on them as they simmer. Heaven! 

Krystal tries, but its burgers just aren't as succulent, its rolls not included in the cooking process and a tad too plump to complement the thinness of the burger properly. Add to this that in some locales, mustard is automatically added, which negates the subtlety of the taste. 

Having now written this narrative, I may have to leap in my car and journey to Bruckner Boulevard's service road in the Bronx to satisfy the Crave and gulp Coke. Neither recent health warnings re beef nor Michael Bloomberg's futile efforts to legislate soda intake shall deter me. Wish me well!

Photo by Adrienne Smith

By Adrienne Smith

                 
                  that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.
--William Shakespeare

Oct. 7, 2015:  As I was tooling down Interstate 80 on my almost cross-country drive, I passed an exit sign that appeared to include an unusual, anatomically based town name, a name that seemed uncomfortably unfathomable for a locale to adopt. 

If you look quite quickly to the left, you may get the effect of what I thought I saw. Given that I had about 7,256 miles more of driving that day, I could not afford to do a U-turn to see if my eyes had deceived me. 

So until now, I have puzzled out all the awkwardnesses that would occur for denizens of that place, as they proudly, or in hushed whispers, reveal their natal spot. Consider the poor college freshman having to disclose it, as in the possible football team, the Stalwart S……s. Or a job-seeking graduate, giving his address on LinkedIn as S….., PA. Certainly a conversation starter, but equally as likely to be an uncomfortable finisher. 

In case you don't yet see what I thought I saw, the word begins with an "s" and rhymes, almost, with "totem." 

Driven with blinding curiosity, I combed the Internet seeking a reason for why such a name had come to be. Thinking that perhaps the spot resembled a sac, I rushed to the dictionary but found there no alternative meaning to rationalize the choice. Further exploration led mostly to names of medical procedures that would make grown men wince, if not cry. 

Moreover, if you go to Wikipedia.com, you will find an enumeration of what contributors deem unusual geographical names. See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Unusual_place_names. These run the gamut from Nothing, AZ, to The Office Girls, in Victoria Land, Antarctica, to Silly Department, which is somewhere.  

Also on the list are numerous names that would prove offensive to print in this family-oriented publication but that are staggering in their nerviness. Wikipedia adds a rather humorless note to the page with the list, stating that the page "illustrates standards of conduct that are generally not accepted by the Wikipedia community." 

So be warned. 

You can imagine how disappointed I was after all this careful research to find that my eyes had deceived me and that the sign actually read "SCOTRUN." 

However, I had another place name up my sleeve that I hoped would produce a colorful story. Ninety-four miles later on this day that my ponderings might indicate were slightly tedious, and surrounded by rolling hills and small mountains, I passed a sign for "Jersey Shore." Had there been something in my toothpaste? Did I need to pull over and take a rest? 

Here I was, a hundred and some miles away from the site of America's perhaps finest reality series. How could this be? 

Again, research was my friend. Apparently the West Branch Susquehanna River runs through the area, and, back in 1785, hostile feelings developed between those who lived on the west side of the river and those on the east. The guys on the west had come from New Jersey, and so, that part became known as Jersey Shore. 

Let's face it, not particularly fascinating. 

But keep your eyes open. This is what travel is made for.

Pictured here:  Road sign near Tannersville, New York.

Photo by Adrienne Smith