My wife and I smelled beef sizzling on an outdoor grill at one of Colorado’s premier ski resorts. An employee there was systematically flipping what must have been four dozen beef patties. “We’re getting ready for the lunch crowd,” the spatula-wielding man said. But it was only 10 in the morning. Those precooked patties would swelter beneath heat lamps for an hour or more before being sold and consumed. Standing in line to buy parched patties is not for us.