The only ingredient which did not bubble to the surface was surprise - given the location of the source (and sauce was heavily included in the story).
It emerged from a restaurant (a loose term) in Las Vegas.
A restaurant called the Heart Attack Grill.
A dining spot which light-heartedly warns those who venture in that it is bad for their health.
Which it is, given the fat saturation of the huge burgers, the processed cheese and the calorie-clad sauces stacked between floury great buns.
All a giggle, but pretty much aimed at unhealthy gluttons with healthy wallets. A note on the menu states "free meals to folks over 159kg".
Of course the owners of this establishment created it clearly with tongue in cheek (if there's any room left inside the mouth for a tongue) as attached to the door is a sign which declares cash is preferred.
"Because you might die before the check [sic] clears."
Now that is like Ian Smith turning to Mark Richardson in the cricket commentary box and remarking, "this kid is set to make a big score".
Because we all know what happens next.
The kid is immediately caught at second slip. Murphy's law. A fate tempter.
And so it came to pass, as reported last week, that a man in his 40s collapsed at his table after dealing to a burger known as the "triple bypass".
"Sweating, shaking and he could barely talk," was how one witness described what they saw.
Other diners smelled a rat of course (along with frying beef and bacon) and thought the man's distress, and later departure in an ambulance, was great fun.
A great stunt.
Although the boss of the place said it wasn't a stunt, and he was genuinely concerned for the diner (although there was later no public release of the patient's condition or name).
The terrible thing here is, if this was a stunt, then the management crew need to be held down and have 30kg of raw meat patties inserted where raw meat patties really should not be inserted.
Okay, by all means have fun with an edgy name to the business but don't make light of a potentially serious medical condition.
Have "fun" with an edgy name to the business?
Yeah, why not?
Names don't phase me because a name is a name.
I've had a Hell's pizza but was not inspired to dash off a letter to Charles Manson asking to be his penpal.
And I have enjoyed a savoury from Heaven's Bakery but felt no compulsion to fall to my knees and ask for forgiveness for the time me and a 13-year-old chum stole one of dad's beers from the cupboard under the sink.
Of course the Heart Attack Grill will have its army of detractors, given the health services of the US are struggling to deal with an obesity problem.
It's a bit like that fried chicken burger thing which emerged for a short time here last year and which dieticians and health sectors maligned.
The queues to get one were remarkable.
Indeed. Build it, and they will come, and the "anti" publicity did the giant chook burger some major favours.
Any publicity is good publicity, as they say ... which the dubious, the cynical and the hungry may suspect was the spark behind the diner's collapse at the Heart Attack Grill.
Silly, crazy stuff and all part of the great American cuisine landscape.
Which leads me to dish up my final, take it or leave it, dessert. No one is forced or obliged to eat high-cal or fatty fodder.
You eat what you want to eat and you dine where you want to dine. Simple.
But if you want to submit to and then collapse to junk food then please get medical insurance ... because why the hell should my slice of the IRD's takeaway service have to pay for it?
• Silly Footnote: You are what you eat? No, I don't really think so as I know several chaps who dine continuously on spiced-up noodles but their grasp of Cantonese is negligible.
Roger Moroney is an award-winning journalist for Hawke's Bay Today and observer of the slightly off-centre.
