My Memories Taste Like Turkey

As I mentioned earlier this week, Ty and I recently traveled to Arkansas to see our good friends Tuck and Megan. We love our Arkansas friends. A four-hour drive north and it feels like I've been dropped in a strange land with a different language and customs.

A few weeks later, we were watching "Country Strong" for the first time and simultaneously agreed that these two characters are spot-on Tuck and Megan.

He's rough and tumble. She's a Country Barbie. Ty and I exist somewhere in the middle. But it's fun to go up there, drive old trucks, drink beer, eat cornbread, sit on a front porch swing, play guitar and act like we belong.

Well, it's probably not much of an act. Fifty percent of both mine and Ty's genealogy comes from Arkansas. His mom's from Magnolia. My mom's from Camden. Maybe we're country strong after all!

When we make our trips to Arkansas, I only have one request. A stop at Burge's. We would always stop here on our way to my grandparents' house, and I've yet to find a turkey sandwich that can come close to this one. Since it's asinine to drive over an hour for a turkey sandwich, I strictly enforce a stop when we get to Lewisville. Hungry or not.

It's not much, but I love that this place hasn't changed since I was a kid. There's something comforting about going to a place that you've always loved and it's exactly the same as it was years ago.

The menu has grown and changed and there are lots and lots of delicious homemade options. But I don't even need to look at this board. I know my order before the car pulls out of Shreveport.

Here it is. Absolute heaven. It's simple, with just turkey, lettuce and mayo between warm, buttery sliced white bread. I add pickles. Trust me and add pickles if you like pickles. 

Ty ordered the BBQ sandwich, which I asked him to show me while he was driving.



Then I asked him to try to hold it still. I'm sure he finds me very charming in these moments. We ate our sandwiches, chased them with homemade fried pies (Ty did apple, I did cherry), and kept trucking our way northward to the tiny village of Guy.

Burge's, we hated to eat and run. Maybe I'll make a return visit soon. Humm ... exactly how crazy is it to drive over an hour for a turkey sandwich?