Terry's Turf Club as a Religious Experience

I suggested, no I told my roommate, that we would be going to Terry’s Turf Club. She hadn’t been there yet! The horror! We picked a day. I put a colorful reminder note on the refrigerator.

It would be crowded, we knew this. There was no getting around it. Terry’s on a Thursday night around 8? Good luck. We were ready to wait. The line ahead of us was long, but the weather was mild so we stood on the porch with our beer.

When you step into Terry’s Turf Club, you put your faith in Terry. You have faith that you will get a table, that there will eventually be a burger order with your name on it. Faith, beer and a bowl of peanuts sustained us.

Roomie ordered a burger with blue cheese and portabello mushrooms. I went with the swiss, red wine sauce and grilled onions again. The burgers arrived in their paper-plate glory.

The first stage of the Terry burger is bliss. It’s euphoria. It’s I-can’t-believe-I’m-eating-this-burger. Patience and faith have been rewarded, and it is awesome. The second stage is quiet enjoyment, because bliss never lasts, and the third stage is burnout. There’s only so much delicious burger a single person can handle.

Well into the third stage, we were paying our bill and we noticed the room had turned its attention to the TV behind us. Turning to get a view, we saw Terry and the Turf Club on the local news. We clapped and cheered.

In case you missed the news coverage, Julie broke the news to us yesterday that Terry’s has been proclaimed the best burger in Ohio by the Food Network.

Like bearded guys with myrrh and frankincense, we traveled from afar to find the neon glow of Terry’s Turf Club. Okay, maybe not afar, but we took a 15 minute trip down Columbia Pike. We had faith in Terry’s, we waited a long time, and when our burgers arrived, our reward was great.