I Lost My Queen Too
The Restaurant That Couldn’t Stay
Every few months, I like to revisit the essays I published before I began my newsletter. This is one from October 2022 that always makes me smile, a reflection on my favorite college restaurant and the places and people we call home. I hope you enjoy it.
I’ve called numerous cities home. Living in some for a few months and others for a few years. I find it difficult explaining where I’m from because “everywhere” isn’t accurate, nor is “all over.” And in most situations, I’d be speaking more than I’m comfortable with by listing everywhere I’ve lived.
So, I usually just say North Carolina. If they ask where in North Carolina, I tell them Charlotte, which is at least partially true. But what’s also true is, in 2012, I rode two hours up I-85 with my family to spend four years at Elon University.
Elon, my alma mater, a registered botanical garden, is technically in Elon, North Carolina. It consists almost entirely of the school’s campus. But Elon, the town, is part of Burlington—a city mostly known by its surroundings: 30 minutes from Greensboro, 40 minutes from Chapel Hill, and an hour from Raleigh.
Elon’s campus is often described as a “bubble” insulated from Burlington. Students regularly called people from Burlington “Burlies” (derogatory). But during my first year, my friends who were born and raised in Burlington were the best guides. They introduced me to my favorite thing about the city: its robust food scene.
In Burlington, a city that people don’t seem to pay any mind, you find ways to give it meaning. You call it “B-Town.” You take pride in your area code (336). And of course, you have your stories. The Burlington myth I often heard while living there is that it has the highest concentration of restaurants per capita in North Carolina.
Although it’s not true, I never questioned it because Burlington is one of those road-trip pit stops. Streets lined with fast food restaurants. Cook Out. Wendy’s. Chick-fil-A. But J.T. & Baden showed me a world of culinary wonders beyond these household names. They introduced me to one restaurant in particular that made Burlington feel like home. Right there amid a strip of fast food spots stood Crazy Fire Mongolian Grill, a shooting star with raw meat.
Crazy Fire, an impossible-to-miss red and white building on one of Burlington’s main fast food streets, Huffman Mill Road, celebrated the beauty of creating your own stir fry. Within the restaurant, they had all the ingredients laid out buffet-style. Understanding the limits of my words, I bring you the “steps to stir-fry perfection,” as outlined by a flash-distorted photo of an old Crazy Fire menu I found online:
Grab a bowl and fill it with all the meats, seafood, and vegetables you like.
Season it to perfection with spices and a few ladles of sauce.
Give your creation to the grillers and watch in amazement as they toss and turn your food with their swords.
Crazy Fire had these large round grills they would make everyone’s food on, and it was honestly the hibachi experience of my dreams. No games. No antics. No trying to catch the shrimp in your mouth and risk getting sauce on your clothes. Just dudes with swords taking whatever harvest you brought them and grilling it in front of you with majestic efficiency. And lest I forget, the gong at the door, available for customers to ring after enjoying their meal.
Although Crazy Fire’s interior was a wonderland in and of itself, I only dined in twice. The hack, per Baden’s recommendation, was ordering carry-out. When you’re a college freshman hyper-focused on how much money you don’t have, you’ll listen to any opportunity to get something good, and a lot of it, for less.
During lunch hours, you could dine in at Crazy Fire and get whatever you wanted for $9. For dinner, the price went up to $11. But here’s the issue: how many bowls of beef, chicken, shrimp, pasta, rice, broccoli, zucchini, pineapple chunks, and ladles of sauce can someone eat in one sitting?
If you're able to eat two bowls, congratulations! Dining in was a solid investment. But unfortunately, I'm incapable of getting my money’s worth at a buffet.
On the other hand, ordering carry-out at Crazy Fire got you one styrofoam container filled to the brim with all your ingredients and two free cups of “white sauce” for $7.45. It was the perfect amount of food. You could satisfy your hunger and still have leftovers for lunch the next day—and you weren’t required to pay dine-in prices without being able to bring home a to-go box.
Crazy Fire takeout became my favorite treat when rolling around with the homies. We’d pick up our boxes and head to Baden’s house. Once we got there, we’d douse our dishes with white sauce and eat beyond our appetites while talking about girls who didn’t know we existed.
Learning how the locals get by makes a city feel more like home when you’re new. I pocket these tips to pass along to other newcomers, hoping to impress them with my regional knowledge.
The following year, when new students started at Elon, I prided myself on being able to introduce them to some of the food locales that J.T. & Baden shared with me: La Fiesta, Wings To Go, NC Jelly Donuts, Zack’s Hot Dogs, Blue Ribbon Diner, and the shining jewel of them all, Crazy Fire. Among that new group of first-years was Elizabeth, who became my wife. Crazy Fire was a staple in our relationship, especially as we first started “talking” (whatever that means).
The day after I finally asked Elizabeth to be my girlfriend, we picked up Crazy Fire for lunch. We settled in at the seating area near the entrance of Elon's Colonnades Dining Hall and dug into our to-go boxes. As I started eating, I became lightheaded. Familiar with the intricacies of vasovagal syncope, I knew I was going to faint.
I looked at Elizabeth and muttered, “I need to take a break.” Not the words you want to hear on day one of your new relationship. But she quickly realized something was wrong with me and ran into the nearby shop and grabbed me a bottle of water and a chocolate bar.
When Elizabeth returned, she found me face-first in my Crazy Fire with rice in my hair. I recovered a few moments later, drenched in a cold sweat. I figured I was just dehydrated, unwilling to accept Crazy Fire might have been my demise.
A year and a half later, the NC Department of Revenue closed Crazy Fire for allegedly not paying its taxes. I was set to graduate that May and grieved not being able to make Crazy Fire trips with the homies. But a little over a week later, Crazy Fire reopened. The world regained its color.
I made the most of my last few months at Elon, knowing I’d be moving across the country to start my first post-grad job in Colorado Springs. While I began my first year out there, Elizabeth finished her senior year at Elon.
In January of that year, Elizabeth texted me news I would never recover from. Crazy Fire permanently closed its doors in Burlington after being shut down again by the Department of Revenue. It left a trail of tweets from heartbroken customers in its wake.
Food is emotional, and home is shaped by the people and memories that strengthen our bond with a place.
When Elizabeth and I had our wedding in 2021, we designated all our table markers with the names of meaningful spots. While another restaurant now stands in its place, Crazy Fire stood firm on table 26, symbolizing a city neither of us was from but became home for us in the years we were away from our homes before making a home together.
I don’t care about the monarchy and the mythology surrounding Queen Elizabeth II’s legacy. Nor do I care much for Kanye West. Not as much as I once did, and that saddens me. But after the queen died, Kanye posted on Instagram, “London I know how you feel I lost my queen too.” And I felt that.
“I lost my queen too,” I whisper as I remember the 2017 closure of Crazy Fire Mongolian Grill in Burlington, NC.
“What?” Elizabeth asks.
Nothing, darling. Nothing.
Thank you!
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I didn’t know you were “from” North Carolina! Me too, sort of — I mostly grew up in Greensboro (hi 336) until college. Sad I missed Crazy Fire because I had to have driven past it plenty 😭
This reminded me of a spot in Buffalo I use to eat at all the time called Rachel’s in undergrad. You ever eat something so much, people look at you like how can you still eat that after 4 years. Me: “Watch me.”