Minus the Bread

In which a simple request reveals a surprising gap in modern civilization

Every time I order a burger without a bun, I feel a flicker of optimism.

This time, I think. This time they’ll understand.

I don’t consider myself picky. I’m not asking for a bespoke culinary experience or a deviation that requires staff consultation. I simply want the same burger everyone else is ordering—prepared the same way—minus the bread.

This does not strike me as a radical request.

They already know how to make the burger with the bread. The process exists. All that is required is to take the container, place the ingredients and condiments inside in the same order they would normally appear, close the container, and hand it to me. No innovation. No creativity. Just subtraction.

And yet, subtraction appears to be where things go wrong.

What I most often receive is a dry stack of meat and lettuce, sitting alone in a box like an unfinished project. Alongside it are condiments. So many condiments. Enough mayonnaise to support a respectable potato salad. Enough ketchup to suggest meatloaf was briefly considered.

I find myself wondering what, exactly, I am expected to do with these materials. Am I assembling dinner, or have I accidentally been enrolled in a practical exam? Should I be taking notes?

On other occasions, the approach is more theatrical. I’m presented with a platter: meat stacked neatly, lettuce over here, tomato over there, pickles standing by, and a careful arrangement of tiny sauce cups. It’s all very tidy. Very thoughtful. And completely unhelpful.

Apparently, I am meant to construct my own bunless burger.

This is where things become unreasonable.

What many people may not realize is that a particular burger in a particular restaurant is not an accident. Thousands of dollars and months of deliberation go into deciding exactly how it should be assembled. There are flavor profiles. Ratios. Order matters. Consistency matters.

In short, the burger you are served is perfection by design.

I want that perfection too.

What I do not want is a pile of ingredients and the quiet implication that I should know what to do with them. I have not attended the requisite training. I do not know the precise quantities or the correct order. I lack the institutional knowledge.

That is why I am paying the people who do.

So no, I’m not being difficult. I’m not asking for something special. I’m not requesting innovation or flair.

I’m simply asking for the same burger everyone else gets—

minus the bread.

Is that really too much to ask?