April 4, 2024 | OPINION | By Asa Gartrell
Imagine an American dive bar; under dim lights, pool balls knock together, ice cubes rattle in their pitchers and Bon Jovi wails through the jukebox. The smell of hamburgers, beer, perhaps a nightcap Marlboro waft from the kitchen and probably from the walls themselves. It’s not your imagination, it’s Green Line Grill on Pueblo Ave.
While the competition respects the onion as a stately companion to the sandwich, I cherish the vegetable with a quasi-religious need. It was high time I rubbed my buds on Green Line’s onion-fried selection. Without a recommendation from the vegetarian counter fellow — he seemed befuddled by the dearth of vegetarian options — I strode innocently into the folds of the mushroom Swiss.
Mmm! Shreds of crispy bulb-bumped uglies with soft cremini in a milieu of fat-spattered decency. This gizmo brought a gallery of pub staples — your icebergs, your indeterminate beefsteak rounds, the odd slice of Swiss — into enlivening discourse with one another. Oh and the bun! Simple, light, pressed to the griddle like the chef wanted its lunch money. The end product was potent, dare I say omnipotent perhaps. I scarfed without regard for clothes or conversation. And in that last bite, I found some essential fragment of America: something honest, gritty, a selfless nourishment. If Guy Fieri hasn’t been here yet, he’s driving 90 mph in the HOV lane to beat the evening rush.
On the whole, I’d liken this little patriot to the 10th Amendment. An absolute triumph that offers a chance to root around and hammer out our democratic values. Power to the people. My best to you and yours.