Tag Archive for 'burger spots'

Up in Cape Cod this weekend, I was reminded of a burger memory that went without documentation.  The Minetta Tavern Black Label burger.  This burger has certainly been all over the blogosphere, mostly due to its La Frieda “Black Label” beef mix, that is supposedly available nowhere else on the planet.

All of that doesn’t really matter to me, the burger was just tremendous.

I feel like it is actually unfair that this burger be included on this site, since I would say that it’s more like a steak on a bun than like any burger I’ve had before.  It’s got this intense mouth feel that feels more like a bite of a perfect grass-fed sirloin than a ground beef burger.  It’s beefy, it’s gamey, it’s sweet from the caramelized onions, it’s fatty from the beef and the clarified butter that’s on the burger.  It’s like the X-men of hamburgers.

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

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