This is probably the highest praise I can afford the Impossible Burger: if eaten quickly, while hot, with one eye closed, it's like beef. More like beef than, say, a pencil eraser. More like beef than, just for one random example, a kitchen sponge. Definitely.
"What's the matter with you, son?" If only I could have told him. If it were only that easy, and I could have just said "overbearing mother," or "raised Catholic," or "unrealistic expectations from a lifetime of television watching," and have that serve as an explanation for how I got this way...
I’m old enough to remember the golden age of TV Westerns, when shows like The Rifleman, Have Gun, Will Travel, and Gunsmoke filled the few channels we did get. Hell, I’m old enough to remember getting our first television, an enormous humming Philco...
