Jimmy Buffett liked his with lettuce and tomato, Heinz 57, and French-fried potatoes—plus a big Kosher pickle and a cold draft beer. Which way do we steer, though?
The song “Cheeseburger in Paradise” appeared on Buffett’s 1978 album Son of a Son of a Sailor and went on to reach No. 32 on the Billboard Hot 100 after he released it as a single later that year. Nearly five decades later, it remains one of the most beloved on a long list of beloved Buffett tunes. (The especially keen can still order this cheeseburger in paradise felt hat from Walmart.)
A song that catchy and that popular was destined to sell its eponymous sandwich—Buffett himself tried to capitalize on the potential in 2002 by opening the Cheeseburger in Paradise chain of restaurants. Though that venture didn’t pan out, there’s a whole “Burgers in Paradise” section on the menu at his Margaritaville brand of eateries.
Meanwhile, fans continue to debate the origin of the burger that stoked Buffett’s carnivorous habits. The Cabbage Key Inn and Restaurant in Cabbage Key, Florida, is one possibility. Buffett is known to have visited the establishment—and taped a dollar bill on the wall there—between the years of 1971 and 1976. Le Select on St. Barts is another name that floats up; he lived on and off that island in the 1980s and surely ate burgers there. Then there’s the Dew Drop Inn in Mobile, Alabama, a timeless institution Buffett frequented growing up. Finally, there’s the now-closed Stanley’s Welcome Bar in Cane Garden Bay on the BVI’s island of Tortola, if you believe the account of a local nicknamed Manpot.
Manpot wasn’t far off, incidentally. At this point, we’ll take the narrative across the island of Tortola and turn it over to Buffett himself, who wrote down the story of the song in the Parrothead Handbook, which was distributed with the 1992 boxed CD set Boats, Beaches, Bars, & Ballads:
The myth of the cheeseburger in paradise goes back to a long trip on my first boat, the Euphoria. We had run into some very rough weather crossing the Mona Passage between Hispaniola and Puerto Rico, and broke our new bowsprit. The ice in our box had melted and we were doing the canned-food-and-peanut-butter diet. The vision of a piping hot cheeseburger kept popping into my mind. We limped up the Sir Francis Drake Channel and into Road Town on the island of Tortola where a brand new marina and bar sat at the end of our dock like a mirage. We secured the boat, kissed the ground and headed to the restaurant. To our amazement we were offered a menu that featured an American cheeseburger and piña coladas…we gave particular instructions to the waiter on how we wanted them cooked, and what we wanted on them—to which very little attention was paid. It didn’t matter. The overdone burgers on the burned, toast buns tasted like manna from Heaven, for they were the realization of my fantasy burgers on the trip. That’s the true story. I’ve heard other people and places claim that I stopped or cooked in their restaurants but that is the way it happened.
So as it turns out, Buffett did eat a cheeseburger—a burned one at an unnamed spot on Tortola. That means there’s no way to steer after all, which is oddly comforting. The cheeseburger in paradise is a state of mind, and if you’re eating one, you’ll know it.
