Picture a Wall Street worker. His eyes are glued to the Hudson from the 40th floor. His brain has been melted by markets, deals, and endless numbers. He is starving for something simple, indulgent, and immediate. He wants a burger from Hamburger America on the way home to his West Village apartment. He wants a round of golf. The craving is urgent and unpretentious. Bayonne Golf Club is that ferry ride, the wrapper in his hand, the sizzle on the grill, the quick bite that satisfies without demanding contemplation.

The course coils and twists like a boa constrictor’s stomach. Fairways squeeze, angles tighten, and approaches close in like a digestive muscle around prey that has nowhere to run. You feel it pressing, constricting, shaping your shots without ceremony. It is not elegant. It is not refined. It is alive in the bluntest, most immediate way, demanding your attention.

The borrowed landscape does most of the heavy lifting. Factories rise like sentinels, churches spire skyward, and the Statue of Liberty appears off in the distance. These are foreign ingredients in a strange recipe, points of aim that turn mundane shots into moments of unexpected delight. Watching them is like perching on a stool at the bar of Hamburger America. You see the line of cooks at work, taking basic elements and somehow making something worth enjoying. The water flashes silver, the mounds rise and fall, and suddenly the ordinary site has rhythm, choreography, and a sly grin hidden in the details.

Bayonne does not ask for reverence. It does not pretend to be Noma. Each hole is flavorful enough to make you nod in approval, fun enough to leave you smiling, but none are revolutionary. The satisfaction is immediate. You bite into it, chew, swallow, and move on. The taste lingers for a moment, enough to remember, but not enough to redefine your standards. It delivers what it promises, and it does not promise more than it can give.

Playing here feels good. It scratches that craving like a burger in the late afternoon. It fills the moment with pleasure, indulgence, and a touch of cunning. The fairways, the skyline, the twists of land all combine to create something lively and spirited. You walk away content. You enjoyed it. That is the experience. Nothing more, nothing less.

Bayonne Golf Club is a burger. Savory, indulgent, slightly messy, and clever in ways you might not expect. It is not world-class. It is not transformational. It is exactly the kind of thing you want when the craving hits. And sometimes, that is more than enough.

Happy Golfing