Hamburger bun, with a side of perfume, please.

I should have taken it as a sign when we finally found hamburger buns after going to five different bodegas, all on the same street. Nice, white, fluffy Wonder hamburger buns, appearing as fresh as the day they left the factory in 1992.

As Jon and I enjoyed our burgers, I thought I tasted a hint of something perfume-like with each bite. I thought, "Maybe it's just the Worcestershire sauce in the burger, you know, emitting some kind of floral taste." Jon didn't taste anything weird, so I just let it go.

Two days later, today, I'm eating a leftover burger for lunch and the perfumed bun strikes again. This time I had to be sure, so I cleansed my palette with a some Fritos and ice water and then ate a piece of the bun by itself. Sure enough—perfume. I took a second bite—perfume again.

Apparently, the buns must have been sitting in some storage room for the past few years on top of a box of laundry detergent. Which brings me back to the graham crackers that I stored next to some fabric softener in my dorm room freshman year of college. Same situation as the hamburger buns.

Needless to say, I'll be buying my buns somewhere else from now on.