FIRST IMPRESSIONS: Column

Muncher pronounced hero of epic burger duel
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Burgerwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
Surely that's how Lewis Carroll would have put it, had he been there on Saturday afternoon to watch me wrestle that ferocious monster of a hamburger I've dubbed the Burgerwocky.
Most takeaway bars boast a specialty giant burger of some pedigree, but of these there is always one so wild and savage and terrifying that by merely uttering its name, you'd have the most seasoned grease-merchant cowering in fear beneath the deep-fryer.
I've hunted down so many of these beefy brutes that you could call me somewhat of a burger slayer.
In the Taranaki town of Waitara, I once walked into Jan's Restaurant and cast the place into a pall of silence when I requested its notorious whopper burger.
The bloke who had been waiting for his two fish and half a scoop made a dash for the door, while the girl at the counter was trembling so much she could hardly write out the grill slip.
Okay, maybe that's a slight embellishment, but the whopper burger itself needed no overstating.
Had my stomach not been empty, the whopper burger might well have eaten me before I could it.
The Bridge Street Burger, the fatty scourge of Napier's seaside suburb of Ahuriri and an enemy to coronary arteries everywhere, also required a stirling effort to bring down.
Yet these couldn't prepare me for the Burgerwocky.
As soon as I arrived here, I sensed it was out there waiting for me, snorting and burning-eyed in some dark corner of a chip shop.
So last week I set off on my quest to Tauranga's most far-flung reaches, determined to return with the Burgerwocky's head.
At Greerton Takeaways I battled the Big Mac, which almost crushed me with its bulk of beef, egg, bacon, pineapple, lettuce and mayo.
At Funky Fish in the Mount, I wrangled that Frankenstein of pineapple, lettuce, fish, egg, bacon, tomato, cheese and beef they rightly call the Bizarre Burger.
The Texas Burger I found in a Gate Pa chip shop - a sloppy medley of steak, beef pattie, bacon, egg, lettuce and pineapple - was broken in easily enough, but the behemoth Works Burger served up by Ocean View Takeaways in Papamoa put up more of a fight.
I finally tracked the Burgerwocky to its lair at a little burger bar in Matua called Hooked On Good Food For You, where the beast had a different name; The Diet Buster.
The owner overheard the order and walked over to get a glimpse at the skinny fool who thought he could take on the dragon.
"Gooood stuff," he said, in a curious tone which suggested I didn't know what I was in for.
The fact that I'd come up against some of the meanest ogres you can fit between two sesame seed buns now didn't seem to matter.
For the first time in my burger-slaying life, I felt scared. I drank a peach soda to steady my nerves.
And then out it came, feebly supported by a plate the cook was struggling to carry, its two, massive, minced-steak patties snarling at me, lettuce jutting out like fire from its breath, relish bubbling from its sides.
I took a deep breath, lifted it to my mouth, but soon realised the beast could not be subdued by a frontal attack, so I had to resort to cutlery.
After 15 punishing minutes, there was nothing left of it, save a few crumbs on my plate.
The battle had left my belly bloated and my brow soaked in sweat, and I was just about to drag myself home to recover when the owner came bounding over, clapping his hands jubilantly;
And hast thou slain the Burgerwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!
He chortled in his joy ...
Or something like that.