Stop #28: 135 & Main, Greenwood (#243)

Stop #28 took me to a Greenwood location on July 22, the date of my brother's birthday.


I went with my soon-to-be cousin-in-law, Emily, who was last seen on the quest when she rescued me and Fiancé from Avon and a broken motorcycle named Sasha (okay, the motorcycle wasn't really named Sasha).


Fiancé and his cousin (Emily's husband) were on a camping trip because I apparently infect Fiancé's life with too much estrogen. With them out of town, we decided to do some slightly girly errands in the south part of town: pick up a bridesmaid dress, check out some fabric at JoAnn's, find some paper for a wedding guest book at Michaels ....

And, of course, hit up a Steak 'n' Shake.


I had a super cute gift card from my birthday, and decided to use it to try a new sandwich: the Wisconsin Buttery Steakburger.

That's right, the very same that Tara had on her first Steak 'n' Shake trip. And, of course, the fries. With cheese.

I was really craving meat. My current work schedule is pretty terrible for any regular and consistent schedule of actual meals: noon to eight, with no opportunity for a break after 3, at best. (Days like today, I think if I'd taken a real break, it'd have had to have been at 1 p.m., which just isn't cool, so I didn't.) So I tend to have a bowl of cereal when I wake up, skip lunch as I leave my apartment to get to work by 11:20 a.m. or so, and eat a no-prep dinner of yogurt and blueberries at around 5 or 6 p.m.

Which means my body is usually crying for meat no matter how unhealthy the form at every opportunity, and I was seriously ready to make out with the Wisconsin Butter-Burger.


Seriously. I'm pretty sure Emily felt like a third wheel at this dinner. And, as I already pointed out, Fiancé was no where near in the vicinity. He may, in fact, need to get jealous, as this burger is the only person(?) other than him to have been on the receiving end of such a look.

Or maybe he doesn't really care, because it is just a burger, so it's not like I can have a relationship with it. No matter how much I may want it at any given time. The Wisconsin Buttery Steakburger simply cannot reciprocate my feelings.

Okay, moving out of the land where my burger has been personified: I'm pretty sure Fiancé would like the Butter Burger because, after all, it's got a whole lot of butter, and this is the Fiancé whose daughter once took the butter dish from a steak house and just scooped the butter with her bare hands as a significant chunk of her dinner.

See that? That's genetic. Though I've never seen Fiancé eat butter straight, I can't say I'd put it past him.

The butter burger was pretty tasty. Which is surprising, considering the state for which it is named does not actually have any Steak 'n' Shakes of its own in which it could perfect such a steakburger. But it passes my standards -- though they are admittedly low with my recent diet of cereal-and-yogurt.

Unfortunately, with this post ends my tradition of a "group shot," as Emily and I took off without getting one. And so I leave you with another shot of the two of us:

I would like to enter this image as evidence that I
do not exist entirely on Steak 'n' Shake food,
nor do I exist entirely on food I have not prepared.
See? I have some skill with food preparation.
No thank to McDonald's, which back in high school
banished me to "back cash" and never, no never, not
once over the course of three-and-a-half years,
taught me grill.