Alexander Mccall Smith Read online

  The

  Perfect Hamburger

  and Other Delicious Stories

  Also by Alexander McCall Smith

  Akimbo and the Elephants

  Akimbo and the Lions

  Akimbo and the Crocodile Man

  Akimbo and the Snakes

  The Five Lost Aunts of Harriet Bean

  Harriet Bean and the League of Cheats

  The Cowgirl Aunt of Harriet Bean

  Max & Maddy and the

  Chocolate Money Mystery

  Max & Maddy and the

  Bursting Balloons Mystery

  ALEXANDER McCALL SMITH

  The

  Perfect Hamburger

  and Other Delicious Stories

  illustrated by Laura Rankin

  This collection published in 2007 by Bloomsbury U.S.A. Children's Books

  175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010

  Distributed to the trade by Holtzbrinck Publishers

  Text copyright © 1982, 1991, 1992, 2007 by Alexander McCall Smith Illustrations copyright © 2007 by Laura Rankin

  THE PERFECT HAMBURGER

  First published in Great Britain by Hamish Hamilton Ltd in 1982 Published in Great Britain by Puffin Books in 1994

  Text copyright © 1982 by Alexander McCall Smith

  THE SPAGHETTI TANGLE

  First published in Great Britain by Methuen Children's Books Ltd in 1991 Published in Great Britain by Mammoth, an imprint of Mandarin Paperbacks, in 1992

  Text copyright © 1991 by Alexander McCall Smith

  THE DOUGHNUT RING

  First published in Great Britain by Hamish Hamilton Ltd in 1992 Published in Great Britain by Puffin Books in 1994

  Text copyright © 1992 by Alexander McCall Smith

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  McCall Smith, Alexander.

  The perfect hamburger and other delicious stories / by Alexander McCall Smith ; illustrations by Laura Rankin. —1st U.S. ed.

  p. cm.

  Summary: In three separate stories, children help adults solve problems related to food, first by saving a restaurant from being shut down, second by untangling a mess in a spaghetti factory, and finally by selling donuts to raise funds for a stolen car.

  eISBN: 978-1-59990-502-0

  1. Children's stories, American. [1. Food—Fiction. 2. Helpfulness—Fiction. 3. Conduct of life—Fiction. 4. Short stories.] I. Rankin, Laura, ill. II. Title.

  PZ7.M47833755 Per 2007 [Fic]—dc22 2007005888

  First U.S. Edition 2007

  Typeset by Westchester Book Composition

  Printed in the U.S.A. by Quebecor World Fairfield

  2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1 (hardcover)

  2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1 (paperback)

  All papers used by Bloomsbury U.S.A. are natural, recyclable products made from wood grown in well-managed forests. The manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.

  Contents

  The Perfect Hamburger

  The Spaghetti Tangle

  The Doughnut Ring

  The

  Perfect Hamburger

  Contents

  Another Hamburger House

  A Business Proposal

  The Perfect Recipe

  At the Excelsior

  An Exciting Discovery

  The Perfect Hamburger

  Another Hamburger House

  Joe liked hamburgers. He liked hamburgers that were juicy and delicious with one ring of onion on the top and one on the bottom. He liked hamburgers that had just a little ketchup and that were big enough to sink your teeth into, even if you finished up with a stream of juice running down to the end of your chin. In fact, Joe liked almost all hamburgers.

  In the town where he lived there was only one hamburger place. This was because it was not a big town and nobody thought there would ever be room for another one. The place was run by an old man called Mr. Borthwick, who had been running it for as long as anyone could remember.

  Although everybody liked Mr. Borthwick, the truth was that his hamburger place was not as popular as it used to be. Mr. Borthwick didn't have the high-tech equipment that bigger hamburger places had, so his hamburgers took longer to make and were not as juicy as they should be. Also, it was clear that Mr. Borthwick's place needed new stools, as the old ones looked very shabby. A coat of paint would have transformed the place.

  Joe knew there was a problem at Mr. Borthwick's. Fewer and fewer people were buying hamburgers there. Those who did often complained.

  "I don't know what's happened to the place," somebody would say. "It used to be so good, but now . . ."

  "You're right," somebody else would add. "I had a hamburger there the other day and it was cold by the time it got to me."

  Hearing this sort of thing made Joe feel worried. He liked Mr. Borthwick and was sad to think of his hamburger business going downhill. Yet if Mr. Borthwick didn't do something to improve things quickly, he would have no customers left. And if somebody else opened up another hamburger place, well, the old man wouldn't stand a chance against the competition.

  And that's exactly what happened. One day Joe noticed a sign going up over a vacant lot in town. It read:

  PROPOSED SITE OF

  ANOTHER HAMBURGER HOUSE

  Joe's heart sank. Hamburger House was a huge company with hamburger places all over the country. Their restaurants were shiny and modern, with white counters and people in neat uniforms working behind them. They produced hamburgers in two minutes, and these hamburgers, it was generally agreed, were fantastic.

  Within a few days the builders started working on Hamburger House. Joe watched them lay the foundations, and then pour the concrete. At this rate, he thought, construction would be finished in a couple of weeks. Once the painters arrived and the equipment was installed, Hamburger House would be ready to challenge Mr. Borthwick's.

  That evening, Joe went down to Mr. Borthwick's on his bicycle and sat on one of the old stools. The place was deserted. Joe was the only person ordering a hamburger.

  As Mr. Borthwick prepared Joe's hamburger, Joe asked him what he felt about the new hamburger place.

  "I've heard about it," Mr. Borthwick said. "I suppose most people will go there when it opens."

  "But what will you do?" Joe asked. "Will you close down?"

  "I hope it won't come to that," Mr. Borthwick replied, flipping Joe's hamburger onto a plate. "I've got nothing else to do. There's nowhere else to go."

  A Business Proposal

  The new Hamburger House opened its doors exactly one month later. The first day was a grand opening. To get as many people as possible to visit the restaurant, they placed an ad in the newspaper for special, half-priced hamburgers.

  Of course this brought half the town out. Hamburger House was opened by the mayor, who made a short speech and cut a piece of ribbon across the doorway. A giant hamburger was awaiting him on the counter. Flashbulbs were popping as reporters and photographers recorded the event for the next day's newspapers. At lunchtime, a long line of people stretched out of the door and along the street, and again in the evening the place was packed with customers.

  Everyone agreed that the new restaurant was excellent. There were shiny black and white tiles on the floor, a big white counter, and a kitchen that sparkled with new equipment. While you waited for your order you could see the hamburgers sizzling away on the spotless grills. Then, when your order was pass
ed through to you, there were revolving sauce containers from which you could choose sauces of just about every color and flavor.

  Joe went along out of curiosity and had to admit the hamburger he chose was one of the best he'd ever tasted. Everyone else seemed to think so too, and as he walked out he heard somebody say to a friend, "You'd have to be crazy to go to Mr. Borthwick's now."

  Joe had been right when he guessed that Mr. Borthwick's days were numbered. Now, even fewer people went to his place. At night you could see Mr. Borthwick sitting alone behind the counter waiting for somebody to come in for a hamburger. But nobody did.

  Except Joe. Every now and then he would go down and order a hamburger. Mr. Borthwick was always glad to see Joe, and took a lot of trouble with his hamburger. Then, when Joe was finished, he and Mr. Borthwick would chat about this and that and just about everything.

  One evening, Mr. Borthwick said to Joe, "Why not come into the kitchen and make your own hamburger? You can have this one free."

  Joe was excited. He went around to the kitchen door. Mr. Borthwick opened it for him and showed Joe around.

  "Right," he said. "Now I'll show you how to make a hamburger."

  Joe was fascinated. Mr. Borthwick told him what to do and pointed out where things were kept. Then he let him get on with it.

  Joe mixed the hamburger meat with a few chopped onions. Then he put the hamburger patty on the grill and watched it sizzle. Mr. Borthwick got out a bun and put the two halves on a plate ready for the burger.

  Joe was surprised to discover that what he had made tasted like a hamburger.

  "I've done it!" he exclaimed. "I've made a real hamburger."

  Mr. Borthwick beamed. "Well done!" he said. "And now that you've finished, you can make one for me."

  Joe went down to Mr. Borthwick's two or three times a week after that and was allowed to make his own hamburger. There were hardly any customers—a few people passing through town was the most that they could hope for. Then, one evening, just after he had made a hamburger for himself and one for Mr. Borthwick, the old man suddenly whispered, "Look, we've got a customer."

  Joe peered through the kitchen door and saw a man getting out of his car and coming up to the front door. He was a large man dressed in a white suit and he was carrying a small briefcase. Joe thought that he had seen him before, but he could not remember where.

  Mr. Borthwick went to the counter to serve him, but the man said he didn't want anything to eat.

  "I've come to talk business," he said.

  Joe strained to hear what was being said, but the man spoke too quietly. Suddenly he remembered where he had seen this man before: he was the manager of Hamburger House and Joe had seen his photograph in the papers after the opening ceremony. Joe heard the door being closed and then Mr. Borthwick came back into the kitchen and sat down.

  "Well, well!" he said, wiping his brow. "What a nerve!"

  Joe pretended that he had not been listening to the conversation so that Mr. Borthwick would tell him all about it.

  "They want to buy me out," the old man said, "so that they can get their hands on this place, remodel it, and start charging high prices for their burgers!"

  "And do you think you'll ever sell?" Joe asked.

  Mr. Borthwick snorted angrily. "To that bunch? Never!"

  The Perfect Recipe

  A few days later when Joe went down to Mr. Borthwick's he decided that he should make special burgers to cheer Mr. Borthwick up, so he rummaged around in Mr. Borthwick's pantry to find some seasoning for the meat.

  There were three canisters which had herbs of some sort in them. They did not look as if they had been used in a while, but when Joe sniffed at the contents they seemed to be all right. Taking a pinch of this and a spoonful of that, Joe mixed the herbs with the ground beef and the onions. Then he put the two burgers on the grill and watched them sizzle.

  When the hamburgers were ready, Joe put Mr. Borthwick's on a plate and handed it to him, and then helped himself to his own.

  They had each taken a bite when they stopped and looked at each other.

  "Joe!" shouted Mr. Borthwick, his mouth still half-full of hamburger. "Joe! What have you done?"

  What had Joe done? As he took his second bite, Joe realized the hamburger he had made was unlike any other hamburger he had ever had. It tasted so delicious and it smelled so wonderful that it seemed a pity even to think of eating it. Yet each bite invited another, and then after that another until soon both Joe and Mr. Borthwick had finished and had only their fingers to lick.

  "That," Mr. Borthwick said, "was the best hamburger I've had in my life."

  Joe knew that this sort of praise from an old hamburger-maker meant that the hamburger must have been every bit as good as he had thought it was. Now all that he had to do was to remember exactly how he had made it. He knew he had taken the spices from three jars, but would he be able to remember how much of each he had put in?

  Mr. Borthwick picked up one of the jars and sniffed at the spices inside. "I think I saw you putting in a spoonful of this," he said.

  Joe looked doubtful. He thought he remembered putting in just a pinch of that spice and two spoonfuls of one of the others. Still, he would try as Mr. Borthwick suggested and put in a spoonful.

  Soon two hamburgers were sizzling on the grill. They certainly smelled good, but when Joe and Mr. Borthwick tasted them, the flavor just wasn't the same. Disappointed, they put down the new hamburgers and tried again.

  This time, Joe put in only a pinch of the first spice and slightly more of the others, but the result was still not what he wanted. He tried again, but still the hamburgers lacked the perfect flavor that had made the other ones so delicious.

  Mr. Borthwick shook his head.

  "It's getting late," he said, looking at his watch. "We'll just have to try again some other time."

  Joe could not get the memory of those mouth-watering hamburgers out of his mind. That night he dreamed that he made them again, and in his sleep he tasted the incredible flavor of the perfect burgers. Unfortunately, the dream did not remind him of how he had made them, and so the next morning the mystery was still unsolved.

  Joe racked his brain trying to remember the recipe. He pictured the three spice jars. One was green and had a small picture of a tree on it. Another was brown and had contained crackers before being used for spices. And the third, which was black, had nothing on it at all.

  Joe remembered picking up the green jar and sniffing at the spice. Then he remembered putting it down and opening another jar. Now which one was that? Was it the brown one that had contained crackers, or was it the black one? "I think," said Joe to himself, "it was the brown one."

  Joe thought it was beginning to come back to him.

  "I picked up the brown jar," he whispered, "and then I put it down next to . . . " He hesitated before going on. "Yes, I put it down next to the black one. And then . . . and then I took just a little pinch from the black jar!" Joe felt a surge of excitement. He had now remembered one important thing: there was only a bit of the contents of the black jar in those delicious hamburgers.

  "Now," Joe said. "The next thing I did was pick up a spoon." It was all coming back to him now. In his mind he had a clear picture of what had happened—surely he could make no mistakes. "I picked up a spoon and took a spoonful from the . . . green jar!"

  Joe gave a shout. He had figured out exactly what he had done. Still muttering to himself, he found a pencil and a piece of paper and wrote down the recipe. Then, without wasting any time, he rushed down to Mr. Borthwick's with the good news of his discovery.

  Mr. Borthwick was as excited as Joe when he heard that Joe had remembered the recipe. Joe quickly mixed the meat and onions and then, under the watchful eye of Mr. Borthwick, he took a pinch of spice from the brown jar and one from the black. Next, taking the top off the green jar with the picture of the tree on it, Joe took out a spoonful.

  Together they watched the hamburgers sizzling on the gri
ll. When they were done, Joe put them on the buns and passed one to Mr. Borthwick. Neither of them dared bite into their burgers, so much seemed to be at stake.

  The moment Joe sank his teeth into the juicy burger he knew that his memory had not misled him. This was exactly the same flavor as the other day. There was absolutely no mistaking it.

  Mr. Borthwick agreed. "You've done it, Joe!" he shouted in triumph. "You've found the perfect hamburger!"

  Joe was, of course, delighted. He had been worried that he would never be able to get the mixture just right, but now there seemed to be no doubt about it. He had the recipe for the finest hamburger in the world—the perfect hamburger.

  When they had finished eating, Joe examined the spice jars.

  "Where did you get them from?" he asked Mr. Borthwick.

  The old man smiled. "Oh, they've been here almost since I opened this place. I hardly ever use them."

  "What are the spices called?" he asked.

  Mr. Borthwick joined him at the table and picked up the black jar. Opening it, he took a sniff.

  "That's sage," he said. "It's pretty common. You get it in any supermarket."

  Picking up the brown jar, he examined the contents of that.

  "And that," he said, "is rosemary. There's no mistaking that smell."

  "Where do you get that from?" Joe asked.

  "Any grocer," Mr. Borthwick replied as he picked up the third jar, the green one with the picture of the tree on the front.