The Mighty Mighty Bosstones have a song called "Toxic Toast", the subject of which is about how a little random catchphrase can bring one back to a certain time and place. There are a few short combination of words that perform the same function for me, one of which is "The Buns Cost More than the Meat".

I shall explain further. A few years' ago we all went on a road trip to Delaware to see the Punkin' Chunkin'. Despite the early November timeframe for this festival, southern Delware is temperate enough that outdoor grilling remained feasible. Recognizing the opportunity, before my brother Marty left his then-home of Massachusetts he ambled down to his local supermarket to pick up some grillable treats.

Massachusetts is a far-less temperate climate than Delaware, so by November the grilling season was long past. However, he was able to find a large package of frozen hamburgers which, being the off season, he was able to procure at a very reasonable price. During that same trip, he also picked up a few nice bags of fresh-baked hamburger buns. Upon checkout, he noticed that on a per-unit basis he had spent more money on the individual hamburger bun than on the actual patty itself. Hence, the buns cost more than the meat.

Arriving at our meeting spot in Delaware, Marty walked into the door, pulled the huge box of hamburger patties out of his cooler and threw them into the freezer, declaring for all, "The buns cost more than the meat!" The impact of the phrase on our traveling group was immediate and apparent. Some of us, upon pondering the choices of the day, were somewhat appalled at the concept, while others more adventurous looked forward to the opportunity to subvert the traditional economic order of things. Still others were vegetarian, and they pretty much stayed out of the debate.

For the rest of the weekend, we couldn't go more than 15 seconds without somebody remarking on the relative difference in price between beef and bread. Personally, I couldn't wait to try them out. I even took a commemorative picture of the grilling process, shown above. For me, consuming cheap meat wrapped in a somewhat pricier bun had become the other major event of the weekend. I spent the hours before the barbeque in occasional yet spirited debate among my friends and family over exactly how those burgers were going to taste. It was, for a moment, the great question of our time.

It was several months before I got that phrase out of my system out of my day-to-day parlance, but it's never completely left me. I don't know why that phrase never was completely lost to the mists of time. Instead it remains a meme that slumbers for weeks or months or years but pops in every once in awhile to say "hi there" now and then, like a top-40 song from a distant summer's past. It's like some sort of beef-based Zen koan, something one thinks about to keep their mind clear after a rigorous day of one-handed clapping. It's a colloquial saying that's lasted beyond its original context, sort of like "How about them apples?" or "Now you're cooking with gas!" It's something that has passed the minimum threshold of unusual, an anchor to a memory. It's also still kind of a funny thing to say.

As for the meat itself, it was alright. I didn't really notice anything unusual about it, but others complained that it was a little "gritty". The hamburger buns, I recall, were quite nice, though. Marty spent his money wisely. Plus I remember some good mustard being available, but I don't know how much it cost.