Burgers are bigger, brawnier and more omnipresent than ever, boasting exotic add-ons, “proprietary” beef blends — and higher price tags. But it doesn’t mean they’re necessarily better than cheap, old-school, diner-style ground-chuck numbers.
That’s especially true when someone dolls up lame, Wagyu-blend patties with a salad bar’s worth of incompatible toppings that include cheap foie gras, portobello mushrooms, avocado and alfalfa sprouts, as at new Latin-fusion Tavo on Hudson Street.
I grew up loving simple patties grilled to a succulent turn, like the $10.95 “classic cheese” at several Burger Heaven locations and the $9.42 cheeseburger at the Parker-Meridien hotel’s Burger Joint. Both are demure enough to be eaten by hand and immensely satisfying. By comparison, most of the new crop of mega-burgers — made with designer beef blends, topped with the kitchen sink and costing small fortunes — fall short. The weaker ones range from meh (some flavor but lacking in moisture) to miserable (neither flavor nor juice). The best are just too damn expensive. None could be comfortably hand-held and a few might best be consumed with a forklift.
Most of the new breed rely on baroque, custom-tailored blends of chuck, short ribs and brisket, with wildly varying results. The year’s most celebrated new burger is at relaunched Chumley’s on Bedford Street. “I think it’s one of the greatest burgers in New York City,” boasted owner Alessandro Borgognone. “A burger worthy of [onetime Chumley’s customer Ernest] Hemingway, declared Bloomberg.com. “Bound to be the breakout star,” gushed GQ.com.
Ahem — the $25 grass-fed double patty top round (50 percent dry-aged) from Fleishers Craft Butchery tasted gray and character-less after we managed to find the damn thing under a mountain of toppings — a bone marrow, American cheese, crispy shallots and “secret sauce.”
Even so, it whipped the buns off of Tavo’s $26 exercise in beef blandness. Avocado, a fatty-rich fruit, does not belong with even fattier-richer foie gras. Even if it did, nothing could elevate the meat from its built-in mediocrity.
Several burgers I tried weren’t terrible, but seemed pointless when there were so many better dishes on the menu. At David Burke’s new Tavern62, a snore-inducing, too-dry $27 burger ($20 at lunch) was lost at sea amid Burke’s signature creative riffs like “angry lobster scramble” and “paella-style” red snapper.
The new Union Square Cafe’s $27, custom LaFrieda brisket/short rib blend on a brioche bun with Berkshire bacon and Beecher’s cheddar cheese was better, but still paled compared to the restaurant’s other offerings. Chef Carmen Quagliata’s at the top of his game with killer dishes that cost the same or little more, like duck-and-chanterelle pappardelle ($27) and arrestingly spiced chicken ($31). Why order a decent, but unspectacular, burger instead?
Sadly, the best of the high-priced field were the most high-priced. Truly grand was the relaunched Beatrice Inn’s 45-day-dry aged burger on a brioche bun, topped with red wine-caramelized onions and creamy, melted d’Affinois cheese. The remarkably sweet, 3-inch-tall giant is a worthy challenger to the town’s longtime reigning champ, Minetta Tavern’s $33 Black Label number permeated with clarified butter.
But chef Angie Mar’s Beatrice burger is $38. I balk at spending that much on a hamburger — and that’s without the addition of a duck egg and shaved black truffles, which will set you back $52.
A few (relatively) lower-priced alternatives can be nearly as enjoyable. Minetta Tavern’s regular burger is nearly as delicious as the Black Label for just $25 — and it includes fries.
At Minetta owner Keith McNally’s new Augustine, the $27 Whiskey Burger boasts a compelling blend of brisket, short rib, hanger and chuck blend with a curiously smoky, forestlike complexion. It’s even more fun if you love whiskey, which permeates grilled onions and comes as a shot on the side for good measure.
Alas, the baroque-burger boom shows no signs of letting up. “Crafted” burgers are popping up at more and more ambitious, new or relaunched restaurants, often where they don’t belong. At Dan Kluger’s new Loring Place, a cheeseburger was worth $19 — but it’s the least interesting thing to order on a “greenmarket” menu focusing on vegetables and fish.
Pat LaFrieda Meat Purveyors president Mark Pastore says that “300 [restaurants] in the city are now using our customized chop meat for hamburgers,” compared to maybe “30 or 40 just 10 or 15 years ago.”
Too bad too many kitchens don’t know how to cook them to juicy perfection, but instead pile on a mountain of gimmicky toppings to make them interesting.
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