Someone – Napoleon, maybe – once said that an army travels on its stomach. That seems like a terribly inefficient way to get around, not to mention rough on uniforms. But what he meant was that traveling on an empty stomach is no fun. Someone else – me, maybe – said that a decent meal can make even the longest trip at least tolerable.

Speaking of long trips, my wife and I just returned from our annual Christmas trip to Oklahoma, and if we’d been relying on road food to get us there, we would never have made it north of Pflugerville. We’ve been making this trip for more years than I care to admit and experience has taught us that until we get to the in-laws’ house (or unless we get kidnapped by Emeril), we’re not going to eat a decent meal. Armed with this knowledge, we prepare appropriately.

Typically, on the night before the annual pilgrimage we’ll stoke up on lots of Tex-Mex. As you probably know, Tex-Mex is at the apex of the USDA’s “food pyramid,” and scientists say it third to only air and water in sustaining human life. So, we eat as much as we can the night before, and usually stop for breakfast tacos on the way out of town the next morning. Then we drive as fast as we can with all the windows down. Forget all this bio-diesel and gasohol nonsense – if George Bush is serious about reducing our dependence of foreign oil, he should concentrate on the propulsive power of frijoles and carne asada.

Eating on the road – especially on Interstate 35 – is dicey. Sure, you might get lucky and stumble onto the greatest mom and pop burger joint in the world but, realistically, it’s not likely. So, when you get hungry on the road you take your chances and hope that your meal doesn’t make you wish you’d been born without taste buds.

This year, we held out as long as we could but finally had to stop for something more substantial than Red Bull and Rice Krispy Treats. Burger King is always urging us to have it our way, so we stopped. We ordered our burgers and waited, mouths watering as we anticipated the sound of all-beef patties sizzling merrily on a hot griddle. But instead, what we heard was a soft whirring followed by a ding – noises that sounded suspiciously like a microwave oven. I peeked into the kitchen area and my worst suspicions were confirmed. Our burgers were indeed being microwaved – nuked like a frozen burrito.

When we finally got our order, the burgers tasted like a piece of cardboard stuck between two sponges. To add to the dining experience, one bite would be stone cold, and the next one would burn the skin off the roof of your mouth.

When we got home, we saw a Burger King commercial. If there were any truth in advertising, their slogan would be, “We Don’t Defrost It Until You Order It.”