Randomroadfood: We Didn't Go To Pensacola Looking For This Cheeseburger

Like every other cool thing we found in this incongruously sweet beach city, it announced itself when we were typically/totally lost.

I have no idea why I wasn’t able to master the driving grid of Pensacola in the first few days, or, for that matter, the entire two weeks. On the morning after the night we arrived (1847 miles from Dutchess County; we wander a lot when we drive to the beach) it took me about 15 minutes to locate the Starbucks 0.8 miles from our airbnb house. One day I found it in three, but the next day got lost again. One morning looking for the Starbucks I found myself driving us across a causeway to a barrier Island, which was alright because it had a sweet beach.

We were in Pensacola because Melissa spends a considerable amount of time looking for midwinter beachy destinations that PLU’s (People Like Us) don’t go to (Jacksonville, Mobile), and despite preconceptions — a military town?

on the Redneck Riviera? — on the road back home through Mississippi and Alabama, when one of us said, “Do you want to go back, like, soon?” the other, me, nodded emphatically.

But so anyway, as you can see, from above Pensacola looks normal, street-layout wise.

In my defense, since a lot of the city fronts the Gulf of Something to both the east and south, I never figured out what direction I was heading in. When I was trying to find, say, Joe Patti’s on South B Street near the water,

I’d end up at the Seville Tower on South Palafox.

or I‘d get completely lost and end up leaving town on 90 west, away from the fishes, out to the fringes,

which was also alright because that way led to FloraBama, the bar where the room with the main stage is where women hang their bras.

I do remember how we found the Sauce Boss. I was looking for the small downtown with the clock in the center of a square

when instead I was suddenly heading in the opposite direction in an industrial neighborhood with freight railroad tracks where we saw the food truck, Being the kind of people who like to eat cheeseburgers, we pulled over.

Pete: Do you realize that in two weeks we didn’t visit a single one of Pensacola’s eight Whataburgers even though when we’re back home we fantasize frequently about the orange-and-white’s jalapeno burger?

Melissa: Because once we found Big Sauce, there was no reason to look for beef anywhere else. In a fish town, you’re still allowed bovine protein every now and again.

Pete: The sauces were all great, and the wagyu beef really tasted like what cheeseburger meat is supposed taste like.

Melissa: It’s not wagyu. It’s the American version.

Pete: But at some point wasn’t a Japanese wagyu calf involved in the breeding?

Melissa: Back when Samurais ruled Japan, maybe.