blogging for burgers

Smokey Saloon: Relatively the best burger in Seoul.

Itaewon, Seoul, Korea

Geographically, Seoul is 25% smaller than New York City, and according to current census figures; Seoul contains two million more people. Of the near eleven million people living in Seoul, the overwhelming majority of them are Korean, born and raised, and eating wonderfully spicy, salty, fiber filled foods. There are thousands of restaurants, and a great number of them are the Korean equivalent to a neighborhood greasy spoon, selling three dollar meals, like kimchi stew with rice and kimchi, or still others may sell slightly more expensive specialty meals like soy sauce steamed chicken with vegetables and glass noodles. When Koreans eat meat as a main dish, it is often grilled at the table, and enjoyed wrapped in lettuce or sesame leaves and accompanied by soup and side dishes. Needless to say, there aren’t many burger joints in Seoul. The last time I visited K-town in the east thirties, I didn’t go there to find a good burger.

Before Smokey Saloon opened in the Itaewon district of Seoul, there were two places I visited regularly for my burger fix: McDonalds and my own kitchen. Behind the main shopping and eating district in the traditional foreigner district of Seoul, this joint serves plates of burgers and fries to craving expatriates and curious Koreans visiting the neighborhood on the weekend. The place is tiny, with four tables on the inside and two more in the covered porch. The walls are painted black with images of jazz musicians spray painted in dark gold and blue on one wall and a mirror blanketing the entire opposite wall. Not matter where you sit, you breathe the effervescent griddle smoke and the greasy smell of burgers tickle your nose to the crackle of beef fat on hot metal. Above, stained glass lamps illuminate the room a dull yellow-orange hue; even on the brightest day, the black walls dampen the natural light to allow the vintage New York burger joint feel to carry homesick foreigners back to their favorite neighborhood spot, or to transport fashionable Korean girls or well dressed business men into a cultural experience they have never lived before and only try to live vicariously through the creative efforts of an American trained restaurateur.

I always choose the classic Smokey burger. The menu, however, caters to the tastes of all eaters who may come, sacrificing the burgers true flavor for a wide assortment of toppings and sauces, the menu reads like a wine list at a well dressed wine bar for educated diners who want to experience the myriad nuances a single culinary item can produce. In any case I went there for the burger, the classic comes with shredded cabbage below and is topped with a lightly grilled, thickly sliced onion with ketchup on top. The bread is a delicious little bun, gently orange in color, and having a girth slightly larger than the whole package. At first glance, the burger appeared to be more vertical than horizontal, so much so, that I was worried at the beginning about its eat-ability.

Cooked slightly more than medium, the burger lacked any savory pink color, however, it was exceptionally juicy. The burger held firm, not crumbly, but the subtle flavor of the meat was hard to find in the heavily salted and spiced patty. The onion and cabbage added a nice crunch, and helped balance the whole experience. As I continued to eat, the juice continued to dribble out and onto my hand through the crumbling bun. Sooner than later, I realized that the bun lacked resilience and elasticity and crumbled like a wet pound cake under the weight of the savory red juices. I was able to handle the burger through the last bites, but my two companions, Koreans lacking proper burger eating skills, had to resort to forks halfway through. At the table across from us, four pretty Korean girls didn’t even try to use their hands, they picked at their burgers with forks and knifes like doctors dissecting the intricate ligaments of a human knee.

Overall, a beautiful burger to look at, with all the tell tale scents of a classic masterpiece, but difficult to handle. The slight shortcomings in the meat can be forgiven in a country where the top domestic meat is reserved for Korean barbeque, and the imported Australian meat is used for cheap Korean barbeque and stews at Korean greasy spoon restaurants. Recently they approved an important free trade agreement between the United States and South Korea and the most contested and publicized product (besides rice) was beef. Maybe this will create a surplus of quality meat in Korea, which can be ground into fresh delicious burgers and will fuel a cottage industry of neighborhood burger joints, but this may just be wishful thinking. Until then, Smokey Saloon in Itaewon is still relatively the best burger in Seoul.

P.S. Smokey’s has opened a new location in the affluent, shopping, dining and living district of Apgu-jeong. I’m off to there next.

– Seoul Brother, 6/25/07

PJ Clarke's Lincoln Center: A copy is never as sharp as the original.

63rd St and Broadway

Overall: Let me start this review by saying that I am hesitant to write a review of a satellite location.  The place is a New York City staple— I feel as though writing about anything other than the original could be construed as heresy.  But I will do it, because it is in the name of burgers.  That said, please treat this as a reflection upon the Lincoln Center location only.

And yes, I do admit that it is reprehensible that I have lived in this city for four years and have not yet been to the original PJ Clarke’s.  Readers (all four of you), please know that I am sorry.

“Hi, I’m….”: “Bill, this is my wife Cheryl, and her brother John, we’re visiting from Chicago!”

It is a tough crowd about which to make generalizations, I would assume, due to its proximity to Lincoln Center.  Many patrons are clearly not from New York.  The plethora of hotels in the area lends itself to creating a “fake” NYC-themed establishment (read, an Irish pub in Beijing without a McCarthy in sight).  The Grizza insists that it is modeled after the East Side location.  I will have to take his word for it (for now, anyway).

If you can, get a table downstairs.  If you squint, it could be 1930, and there could be a thick cloud of cigar smoke, the sounds of an upright piano, and a leggy cigarette girl, all accentuated with the clinging and clanging of glasses filled with bathtub gin.

Sounds like a fun time.

I’m Here, What do I see? : At this particular location- tourists.  And a lot of them. Older single ladies that we “in the biz” might call, ahem, cougars, are hanging around the bar.  So, if you are feeling up for a Mrs. Robinson-esque encounter, come here and hang at the bar for a bit.  The Grizza thought about it, trust me.

The scene is a 1930’s New York pub: dark wood, soft lighting, and a tin ceiling.  A long bar is the centerpiece of the restaurant.  An oyster/clam bar is tucked away in a corner behind the bar.  For a tourist trap, it is a nice place.  A little noisy upstairs, but that’s what all the tourists come for—the energy that only New York has to offer.

The Good Stuff:
I have been hearing about this burger for a long time.  It has, in fact, been uttered in the same sentence as JG Melon.  Needless to say, the expectations were high.  The burger arrived, and I felt good about it at first glance.  Much like the reigning king, the burger arrived on a small glass plate, but PJ’s is accompanied by a pickle wedge instead of the slices.  Where’s the onion?  Strangely enough, it’s underneath the burger.  Not sure why it was there.  Maybe I am oblivious to some age-old tradition involving the onion slice being below the burger.  If so, I don’t care and I think it’s stupid (take that, age-old traditions that I don’t know about!).  Anyway, that’s a trivial detail, I suppose.

Back to the main event.  The burger does have good hand-feel, which is always a plus.  But the hamburger patty was small.  Arguably, a little too small.  As with JG Melon, the meat was coarsely ground and was properly seasoned, but for some reason, the taste got lost along the way.  Where did it go?  I have a theory: the thinness of the patty does not allow for the development of a good caramelized layer without making the inside of the burger sawdust.  If the patty were a little bit thicker, that crunchy sweet crust would develop and we’d have a totally different story.  But alas, we do not.  The burger was good, but not great.  It was not especially memorable; it ended, and I was okay with that.

NB: the fries are great—like old-style McDonald’s fries, before the whole trans-fat, “let’s not make people responsible for their own decisions by making junk food healthy” debacle.

To the east side.  I’m not done with you get, PJ.

Rating (out of 7 cows): 4/7

– burgerboy. 6/3/07

RARE: A bit too well done.

Corner of East 37th St. and Lexington Avenue

Overall: A much-needed Murray Hill burger joint, with a solid burger, but a bit too pricey and a bit over hyped.  The sides are more than adequate (perhaps a bad sign—the burger should always take center stage), and overall it is a pleasant experience.  The ambiance is a little higher-class than your neighborhood greasy spoon- wear a nice shirt or one with a sheep suspended by a ribbon.  The quality of the ingredients is above average, I’d say, and, if you are tired of the standard beef burger (though I wouldn’t understand HOW that can happen), you won’t be let down with the variety of the menu (any meat that you can imagine being shaped into a patty has been at Rare).  A good place for a date, but don’t come here with your Hell’s Angels buddies.

“Hi, I’m….”: “Melissa, and this is Rachel, Sarah, Allison, and her boyfriend Craig.”

It’s Murray Hill, after all.  There is a West Village location, but this is the original.  Granted, the burgerboy used to live two blocks away, so I am a bit partial to this location, but I am in no way endorsing Murray Hill.

It’s convenient to any part of the city, ok?

I’m Here, What do I see? :
Depending on the time of day, the scene can vary.  Either you’re affronted by a crew of Murray Hill guys who all just left their desks at Lehman, or you enter a calm, civilized bar scene, with dark wood and soft lighting.  Murray Hill girls flock to this place, in the hopes of finding that cute I-Banker with the bottomless pockets (and with no beer on tap and $8 cocktails, who can blame them?).  Just kidding…

But not really.  Girls in this place are always dressed to the nines, which, in certain respects, does make this less of a burger joint and more of a, dare I say, restaurant.  But, no matter, ambiance does not a good burger make.

The Good Stuff:
I used to be a Rare regular.  It is not false that I was there three times in the span of seven days.  However, it is arguable that I was there for the convenience and not the amazing quality of the burger.  Yes, I do realize that my thoughts are all over the place.  I guess my review is all over the place.  I don’t think the burger is THAT good.  That’s right, I said it.  I think it’s overrated.  I think frankienoon might disagree, but this is my review, damnit.  The burger is too fatty.  It has a good amount of sirloin (this is all about the “classic” burger, by the way, no fancy-pants pesto burgers for this guy), which, while high in flavor, makes things a bit too messy for me.  Remember hand-feel?  This burger does not do it for me.  Good but not great.  For a place that only has variants of one item on the menu, I want that one item to shine, and Rare just doesn’t do it.

I guess one of my problems is that the bun has a “story” (as does the pickle, the bacon, the cheese… the menu has turned into a bit of a gourmet sellout), but I think it’s overwhelming.  I’d rather spend my nine bucks 38 blocks uptown at Melon’s.  Rare just tries a bit too hard, I think.  Let’s get back to basics—a good char layer, a little less fat, no side stories.  Lastly, a pet peeve: the burger arrives with a doneness pick in the patty.  What is this, Ruby Tuesday’s?

That might sum it up for me.

Rating (out of 7 cows): 3.5/7

– burgerboy. 5/25/07

Relating a Burger and Olympia's Bosom

a correspondent from afar has written the following thoughts on a burger:

We’ve got some burgers over here. Classic and kimchi. There are a lot of bad burgers out there, in this new era of culinary sophistication and snobbery, there are a lot eaters and eateries trying to perfect the burger, or just sell their uncompromising classic. Ultimately the best places, use good meat, good fat content, and have a competent cook, ( really the only competence required when we are talking about good meat is taking it off the heat anywhere before medium, or light pink). Then there are the side dishes or the toppings, these things, like beautiful women or good wine (which are always delicious no matter where they come from), vary depending on the person, the time of day, the season, the mood, the feeling, or the country. Generally when the toppings are of good quality, no matter what they are (within reason), when paired with quality meat, the outcome is good. Finally, since a good burger, is a sandwich, and the defining characteristic of a sandwich is the bread, having a superb patty and toppings with a crumbly, dry, soggy, overly large, overly small, bun is like having a pizza with great sauce and cheese, that neglects the crust.

Notwithstanding, a burger that is successful on all fronts, can leave you unsatisfied if it doesn’t feel right in your hands. I think hand feel is the most underrated aspect of a good burger, or i if you will “eatability.” A burger is meant to be eaten, and if it is difficult to grab the whole package firmly or tenderly, upside down or right side up, left handed or right handed, then the whole culinary experience can be thrown off. A cheesy onion or a bit of juicy meat which has fallen to the plate may taste delicious on its own and a bite of fresh bread when enjoyed as a palate quencher before diving in for more wholesome eating can satisfy the most discerning eaters. The taste of each ingredient matters, but if you can’t taste the whole work in its entirety, together and in harmony, then it’s difficult to enjoy, it would be like looking at the knee cap of Manet’s Olympia through a telescope, then her hair, then her bosom, without the ability to relish the sumptuous whole.

– Seoul Brother, 5/25

The Corner Bistro: Everything Must Change Someday

Corner of West 4th and Jane Streets

Overall: Two years ago, the headline of this review would have said that the Bistro is the reigning king of the big apple.  But alas, things have changed, and unfortunately for an old main-stay of mine, not for the better.  I had heard that recent quality at the Bistro has left something to be desired.  My experience on a recent afternoon validated that notion.  The famous Bistro Burger, against which I had measured all subsequent burgers, failed to reach even its own mark.  The atmosphere and experience are just as good as ever, which makes the Bistro as valuable to this city as it was two years ago.

“Hi, I’m….”:
“Steve, and this is my buddy Rob, and his girlfriend.”

The crowd is always mixed—locals, out-of-towners, and others from all parts of the city.  Anyone can fit in, which makes the Bistro a great microcosm of the greatest city in the world.  A group of old guys can be sitting next to a table of drunk investment bankers, who can be sitting next to a group of young women (probably in college), dressed to the nines, with straightened hair, full-makeup, tight shirts with plunging necklines, tanned skin, supple lips, piercing eyes, and–

Whew, sorry, got a little caught up in the moment there.  Anyway, great crowd, ahem, great crowd.

I’m Here, What do I see? :
The entrance to the Bistro has never been impressive based on the actual site of the pub itself.  Cleanliness is questionable and the smell of stale beer permeates the air.  This is all part of the Corner Bistro’s charm. Pending on the time of day, there could be a huge line of people waiting to be seated.  It can be intimidating, but don’t turn away, unless you have either a closed mind or an exceptionally empty stomach.

Arguably, the most enjoyable part of the entrance starts before you are even inside.  Tucked away on a quiet corner in NYC’s West Village, its location is a welcomed break from the bustling 8th Avenue.  Upon seeing the red neon lights, which have withstood the tests of time, an unlikely sense takes over—the olfactory glands start doing their thing, and something hits you: the lovely smell of bacon.  It wafts through the air and ushers you in like a good friend at the doorstep on a cold winter’s night.  Smoky, porky, fatty delicious.   It calls to you from the street.  In only intensifies as you get closer—daddy’s home.

The Good Stuff: It is not without great sadness that I write the following sentence: The Corner Bistro is not currently the best burger in New York City.  I am sorry.

The quality has slipped.  The meat was underseasoned, and the broiler was probably too hot, yielding a charred, dry crust, with the inside being undercooked.  The bacon was too crispy, and the fries were a little overdone.  The patty was a good size—always a Corner Bistro staple—but the overall quality of the meat did not justify its size.  As always, the McSorely’s Ale was smooth and crisp, but unfortunately, this was the highlight of the visit.  The feeling that I was eating something I shouldn’t have been washed over me as I walked away from the Bistro.  Had it been hyped in my own mind for so long that it could only disappoint?  I do not know.  At the end of the day, the burberboy was let down by the old staple.  I will, of course, give the Bistro many chances to (re)prove itself to me, but for now, I will need to move ahead with a new beacon in a world of ground beef patties and buns.

Rating (out of 7 cows): 5/7

– burgerboy. 4/29/07

JG Melon: Reigning King of the Big Apple

Corner of 74th St and 3rd Avenue

Overall: An especially enjoyable burger experience, from soup to nuts. All the elements needed were there: quality atmosphere, a solid burger, extensive drink options, and adequate sides. Arguably B4B’s favorite burger in the city right now.

“Hi, I’m….”: “Buffy, and this is my boyfriend, Ted.”

Come on people, this is the Upper East Side! A lot of popped collars in the summer, cable-knit sweaters and Polo button-downs in the winter. But don’t let that deter you (it might be tough, I know), this is still a place worth going to. Again and again.

And then maybe another time.

I’m Here, What do I see? : Upon walking in, don’t let the crowd scare you (hint, peak time on the weekends usually ends around 3pm– perfect for that late afternoon burger and bloody mary); there is a system, believe it or not. Push through to the front if you don’t see a guy with a mini clipboard– he’ll tell you what you need to know. It’s actually somewhat civilized. Everyone around you will probably be drinking a bloody mary– do as the locals do and you won’t be disappointed. Feeling a little manly? Get a bloody bull– a bloody mary with some beef stock thrown in there for good measure (Don’t believe me? Check it out here).

Side note: Don’t ask for olives. The Grizza did, and he’s still regretting it.

Waiters and waitresses alike are dressed in ’30s style garb: vests, white button-downs, ties (for men and women). This is a classy joint.

The Good Stuff: Ask and ye shall receive. A manageable bacon cheeseburger awaits those who are patient. A decently sized patty– probably about 1/3 lb, probably ground chuck, I would guess– sits nestled in between two pieces of an all-white seedless bun. Cooked to perfection, the burger remains juicy without being messy– a Burgerboy favorite. The secret lies in the method of cooking: atop a hot flat griddle. Don’t hesitate to poke your head into the “kitchen,” and catch a glimpse of what sheer beauty looks like (for the guys at B4B, at least): rows of hand-shaped ground beef patties, sizzling away on a hot piece of aluminum. Browned to perfection on both sides, the griddle adds that sweetness that a broiler simply cannot create. We need maximum surface contact here. The ground chuck helps keep things in check with its adequate fat content. The bacon is ample without being excessive (isn’t that the definition of “ample?”), and the thin slice of american cheese seals the deal. The cheese actually melts into the burger. On a recent visit, the Grizza and I couldn’t understand how that happens. But who cares? Knowing it happens is good enough for me. Hand-feel (I am pioneering the term for burger evaluation. Usually it’s applied to stuff like golf clubs and fishing rods, but it’s going to work, trust me). The burger fits in the hands and isn’t too big to handle. Bun is not soggy and is perfectly sized for the burger; or is it the other way around?

Sides: Well, a side of cottage fries completes the trifecta of burgers, bloody mary’s, and fried spuds of some sort. The fries are unique– little roundish disks that are puffed out like starch blowfish.

How much more can I say? The burger is like a warm spring night– you just don’t want it to ever end. Is that over the top? I don’t think so. Try and ye shall see.

Rating (out of 7 cows): 6/7

– burgerboy. 4/4/07