Page 22 of Death of a Grill Master

INGREDIENTS

1 pound ground turkey

⅓ cup seasoned breadcrumbs (plain are fine, but where’s the fun in that?)

1 large egg

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

1 tablespoon Dijon mustard

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 teaspoons onion powder

1 teaspoon smoked paprika

½ teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon pepper

4 hamburger buns

In a large bowl, combine the turkey meat, breadcrumbs, egg, Worcestershire sauce, Dijon mustard, minced garlic, onion powder, paprika, salt, and pepper. Mix until combined but do not overwork the meat.

Divide the meat mixture into four equal-sized patties, and with your thumb, make an indention on the top of each patty. This helps to keep the patty from shrinking.

Preheat the grill to medium-high heat and oil your grates to help prevent sticking.

Grill the burgers for 5 to 6 minutes on each side. You want the internal temperature to be 165°F for doneness. When the burgers are almost done, add the buns to the grill and toast until golden brown.

Assemble with your favorite toppings—lettuce, tomato, pickles, more pickles, maybe a slice of cheddar—and serve with a Twisted Sister in hand. Comfort food never tasted so rebellious.

Chapter 8

“Out of onions,” Kelton announced, pushing through the swinging door from the kitchen like he was delivering the news of a death in the family. “And we’re down to half a container of paprika.”

Hayley looked up from the clipboard where she was finalizing prep notes for the dinner shift. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish. And we’ve got three tables with preorders for the Hungarian meat-loaf special, so …”

“Okay, okay,” Hayley said, already stripping off her apron. “I’ll run to the Shop ’n Save. Try not to let Betty over-season anything while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” Kelton called after her.

Hayley’s Kitchen was already buzzing with prep work and the scent of baked bread, garlic, and something caramelizing on a hot skillet. She dashed out the back, purse over her shoulder, hair barely tamed in a headband, and keys jangling as she jumped into her battered Subaru.

Ten minutes later, she was pulling into the jam-packed parking lot of the Shop ’n Save, cursing herself for not sending Kelton instead. She circled twice, looking for anything remotely resembling a space, until finally—like a beacon—she spotted Doris Crimmons, in her butter-yellow Buick, easing out of a prime spot by the front entrance.

Or trying to.

Very, very slowly.

Hayley put on her turn signal and waited. Doris’s reverse lights blinked on.

Then off.

Then on again.