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CHANGES! (and Owl Sprit)

Guess what, kids?  Turns out blogs are dying (or already dead, depending on your birth year) and uber-long Instagram captions are all the rage.  Considering this newsflash-- and the realization that half our constituents refuse to read more than a paragraph-- we’ve decided to move all our reviews over to our Instagram page.  

This is also a self-serving transition as, 20 burgers in, we’ve discovered there’s only so much one can say about (largely) sub-par hamburgers, and only so many ways to say it.  Being forced to condense our bountiful wit into shorter reviews will be a good exercise in moderation (something we’re clearly unable to practice when it comes to meal time).  

So if you’d like to know what we thought of the Owl Sprit burger scoot your booties down to Instagram.  

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Burger 19: Sea J’s!!!

We'd been putting off hitting up the iconic Sea J's for fear that, through our culinarily objective lenses, their burger would blow.  But with Summer's waning days came a growing desire for the grit and sass that only this salty port-bound eatery could quench.  So we sucked it up and gave in.  And we're ecstatic to report that Sea J's did not disappoint!  

Because our rules seem to confuse even us, we were compelled to order both their classic cheeseburger and their namesake (the Ultimate Sea J's Burger).  Before we go any further we will say that while both were great Class B burgers, we would recommend sticking with the classic and skipping the behemoth that is the Ultimate Sea J's as it's simply too much (did we mention we ordered it with bacon? ONE OF US keeps breaking the rules).  Let's break it down:

With over a half pound of meat and two kinds of cheese, your first impression is “No way!! No way can I finish this thing. How do I even wrap my lips around it?” but then a seed of hope sprouts in the dark recesses of your mind. A little voice demanding to be heard. A quiet whisper quickly growing to a battle cry screaming “I MUST CONQUER THIS BURGER” and then it’s just a downward spiral of sauce, grease, perverted delight, shame, and massive pot belly from there.

Big Boy

The bun was stellar. Although clearly special ordered from Texas or some bizarre giant-inhabited planet , it was able to hold up to all forms of sauce, manhandling and grease.

The bacon was cooked crispy.  The cheese had that roof of the mouth gooey quality but also had that classic USA flavor you know you want. The lettuce was chopped iceberg, which alongside the sliced white onions gave the burger some much needed crunch. The ample amount of  dill pickle slices mixed with the house burger sauce gave this beast the creamy tang that was necessary for such a patty.  [Cooked to oblivion (no temperature requests here). Grey. Under seasoned and relatively dry.] But the burger as a whole was yum!

If you reduce the patty and bun size (and remove the illegally added bacon) the above is basically a description of the Sea J's classic cheeseburger, which is--quite frankly--a great Class B burger.  

Yummy Little Guy

Well done, Sea J's!  Turns out there's more to rave about than the service.  

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The Smitty’s Review!

Please take a moment and step back in time with us to revel in the enormity of the Fat Smitty’s Burger.  As a reminder, this was the 14th burger we consumed but we didn’t post our review, as it was being published in The Local.  As that edition has already been on the news stands for some time, we thought we’d grace you with it here now.  Bon appetit! 

Four months, ten days, and entirely too many thin patties into this project and we were ready for some real MEAT.  So we did what any rational hungry person would and let curb appeal be our decider.  If oversized wooden burger sculptures are any indication we knew Fat Smitty’s served up one meaty burger.  Excited to put politics aside, we readied our growling tums and made the journey to patronize this conspicuous highway 101 eatery.  

We each ordered one Fat Smitty Burger.  Only one of us intuited that this would be too much food.  Two large patties, three pieces of bread, two gooey slices of cheese, two layers of bacon, lots of sauce, thickly shredded iceberg, tomatoes, pickles on top.  It's exhausting just writing it. 

One with fries, one with onion rings.  We were hungry.  One root beer float, one strawberry shake.  REALLY hungry.  Here were our impressions, in order of emergence:

1.)  The wait staff possessed the uncanny skill of being able to read how hungry customers were with little more than a glance.  Color us impressed.  

2.)  The burger was one patty, one bun, and half an onion too big.  (One of us nearly had an infarction trying to master its consumption.)

3.) Bacon was perfect.  Bravo.   

4.) Fat Smitty's seems to worship at the alter of Sauce being the Boss. Our burgers were drippy, saucy perfection, BUT . . . 

5.) . . . Unfortunately their bun choice was a complete failure in its fragility. Do Over. 

All in all though, this was a tasty burger that allowed all its components to shine through while each simultaneously having a say in the mashup of flavors.  We'd certainly go back, but never for the eponymous Fat Smitty Burger; next time a deluxe cheeseburger would more than do the trick.  But sans fries, as they were garbage.  The onion rings were overcooked, but one of us likes them like that (at least we admit it).

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Eighteen: Reveille!

We’re not going to wax on about the bizarre choice Fort Worden made to transpose a pseudo-formal dining room onto a State Park coffee shop. Dining upon white linen under the cold soaring ceilings of the Commons building, gazing over the not-so cleverly hidden deli case and gift shop stuffed animals is unnerving to say the least. And “the least” is where we’ll leave it because if we dwell on Reveille’s atmosphere too much we will, in fact, detract from a pretty great burger.  

Let’s start from the top. The bun was fantastic. With excellent crunch and integrity it was able to stand up to all manner of juice and manhandling. Bonus: it was tasty!!

The burger sauce (served generously in a side ramekin for self-serve bun-spreading and fry-dipping) had great flavor. The customary pleasing pale pink, it contained just the right amount of fattiness to zest. Huge surprise--the tomatoes were unripe in classic PT fashion. The lettuce was . . . green. It didn’t add or subtract anything. Much as we love lettuce, this was just fine.  

The real star of this burger was the blanket of melted cheese, carefully tucking in the half caramelized shallot- type jam.  This combo worked incredibly well with the meat.

The patty was commendably juicy, though it was more of a meatloaf than a burger patty—a combination of both pork and beef (and maybe a little worchtershire sauce and parsley?)  We dug it.

The fries were thick-cut wedges.  Not our style, but tender and a good foil for the burger sauce.  

So there you have it.  Eat this burger.  But do it at lunchtime when the bustle of the Fort is at its peak and the grab-and-go café-ness of the café isn’t hiding under the misplaced white linen of Reveille’s dinner scene.  

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Seventeen: Burgers’ Landing

You know as well as we do that this blog is not about service.  It’s stated clearly in our mission rules that everything beyond the bun (sides, service, cleanliness, etc.) is to lie quietly in the shadows cast by the gleaming, spotlit hamburger.  That said, when service gets in the way of said burger, we’re under contractual obligation with ourselves to say something.

Burgers’ Landing closes at 7pm.  We arrived at 6:45, which in many cases might be cutting it close but come on!  We're talking about a to-go order at a fast food joint.  15 minutes is plenty of time to prepare a burger and stick it in a bag.  It’s also, one would imagine, enough time to gather one’s desired condiments while waiting for one’s food, no?  No.  

Denied.  

By the time we rolled in to Burger’s Landing at 6:48 pm the counter girl was already dressed for escape, shoulder strapped tightly to her purse.  She was also midway into a DEEP eye roll, presumably provoked by the audacity of our and the other customer’s presence. Even so, she took our order and was polite enough . . . UNTIL we deigned to ask for some mustard.  “It’s been put away.”  Even her sentence structure was passive.  Passive AGGRESSIVE.  No condiments?!  Come on, man.

Okay—enough about that.  Let’s get to it.  The burgers were just fine, with the patties being their low point.  Flavorless, and chewy in texture.  One of us ordered bacon, which was quite frankly the first bad bacon we've had (hopefully the last). It tasted of smoked grease and not in a good way.  That said, it did add some nice tooth to the burger.

What was good? The chopped up lettuce onion combo. (We dug.)   A bunch of chopped up iceberg lettuce and pretty mild medium diced onions (did they soak these? How will we ever know?) were the perfect vessel for the juicy drippy sauce. This burger sauce was your run of the mill Thousand Island but it had nice crunchy pickle in it pluuuuuus Burgers’ Landing adds dill chips to their burg, which accentuate the tangy goodness. Pickles, after all, are life.

The bun wasn’t some expensive fancy thing but it got the job done. Squished flat due to transport it was somehow able to soak up a majority of the coveted burger juice and still have integrity. Hella thumbs up.

Flat little buddy. 

All in all this was a pretty whatever burger for us. We’re sure we'll get it again on the way to some beach party in Quilcene but we can’t see ourselves going out of the way for one in the future. Especially without mustard. Criminal!  

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16: QUENCH

If you’re able to find your way through the mostly defunct Flagship Landing shopping center, past the actual salon, through the unforgivable 90’s-Miami-salon-decorated dining room and finally onto the Quench deck you won’t be sorry you did.  All the aforementioned disadvantages aside (not to mention the squirm-inducing name evocative of a humid night’s search for a bathroom), this place is pretty good!

Quench’s burger menu is a complicated one comprised of myriad sauces, cheeses, and sautéed everything.  Heading it up is the “Cheese Burger De-Lux” with—count ‘em—THREE cheeses (cheddar, brie, and bleu).  Plus caramelized onions.  The second listed burger is the “Royale,” which is the above with bacon.  We ordered one of each—one rare, one medium-rare.  And the meat was finally cooked properly!  Who knew it was such an arduous task?  

Despite the excellent amount of juice, the bun stood up pretty well.  This was, in fact, our second favorite bun to date.  

Another win: the cheese killed it. Upon reading the menu we were highly skeptical of the three cheese blend, but nice flavor and a reasonable ratio made it work-- and work well.  

The caramelized onions and house burger sauce were great together, if a tad on the sweeter side.  

The lettuce, onion, tomato and pickle were just brillian………oh wait………where were they? #gout #goutlife This was where the burger failed.  We were absolutely dying for some sort of vegetable!  Some crunch!   Anything would have worked!!

Luckily the burger with bacon (cooked nicely) lended some much-welcome tooth to this otherwise one-textured burger.

All in all it was a delicious sandwich (one of use felt it was on the sweeter side), but be prepared and BYOVeg.

Also worth noting:  fries were cut thicker than our preference but quite excellent!

Carrot slaw?  Had a nice kick!  And obviously ended up on the burger since no other vegetable was in sight.  

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Burger Fifteen: Cablehouse Canteen

The past week aside, it seems that this year Jefferson County might be blessed with a fairly decent summer.  If it does there should be ample opportunity for some killer beach time.  And with every beach visit comes the chance at a picnic.  But if you spill your 3-bean salad (god-forbid) or (more likely) get a mouthful of sand in your tuna sandwich, the Cable House Canteen at Fort Wooden can hook you up with a pretty decent burger.  

Now, within the greater burger-sphere this is just a so-so burger.  But we both agree that it’s a great burg for the beach.

The good: Bun game on point! Pretty sure this is the same awesome bun that was used at the defunct Uptown eatery.  

The bad: Cheese game on fail. What's up with the pre-sliced flavorless cheese that is unmelted. We repeat: UNMELTED! (This was only the case with the “cheddar.” The pepper jack succumbed to the meat as expected, but let the record show that pepper jack will never again be chosen as a burger accompanist.  It’s unAmerican.)

Cheese just starting to bend to the beef. 

Meat was your typical near-nonexistent thin patty, but cooked well enough. Everything else was as expected except for the sparse amount of onions. Two thumbs up to that!  

If you’re keeping track of sides (which, officially, we aren’t) the fries were over-seasoned but of a nice cut and texture.

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Fourteen: Fat Smitty’s

We ate the big one!!!  

But you’ll have to wait to read the review when it comes out in The Local’s August/September issue.  

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Lucky Thirteen? Halfway House

that cheeze tho 

If you find yourself driving down the 101 in need of some grub, The Halfway House is a pit stop more or less worth making.  What an endorsement, huh?!  Sorry, y’all; this review isn’t going to be terribly interesting.  It’s not a bad one, just not much to write home about either.  

It seems we’re chin deep in a sea of thin-patty-ed burgers and we can’t swim to shore.  We should’ve seen this coming—and don’t mistake our light kvetching for an official complaint—but we’re ready for our next burger to be juicy, hand-formed, and meaty as hell.  

We got bacon on one of ours.  Always a sure bet.  

Not quite the case at the Halfway House.  That said, they serve up a scrumptious version of a thin-patty-ed hamburger.  Highlights include their saucing both the top and bottom buns (seemed like an on-the-sweet-side meld of thousand island and tartar), and their veg.  Iceberg!  Good tomato (a first!).  Another first: a Jefferson County restaurant burger without onions.  While we love an onion, this was a super welcome change, as most places seem to pile the onions higher than the patty.

So that’s that.   Go ahead and eat this burger.  You’ll feel unremarkably okay that you did.  And PLEASE give us recs on a burg we can sink our teeth into!

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Burger Twelve: Hilltop

The Hilltop Tavern has it figured out. They’ve created the perfect dive bar trifecta of pull tabs, grumpy regulars and ice cold Bud Lights. What the Hilltop isn’t necessarily known for is their food—least of all their burger. Today we change that.

Not a good photo.  The Hilltop is not known for its lighting.  

The Hilltop Tavern’s burger falls into this bizarre sub category all on its own. Not quite a pub burger and not quite a thin patty diner burger (previously mentioned as a class B burger). It comes one of two ways: with cheese or without.  Ours was ordered with. Within minutes of placing our order a tray of condiments appeared and was placed on the bar in front of us. This is how the Hilltop diverges from the rest of the Jefferson County. On the tray there were three types of mustard, relish, pickles, mayo, ketchup and chopped onion. Brilliance!  With one move the Hilltop effectively allows the customer to create their perfect dive bar burger.  Like ‘em sweet?  Load up on the ketchup and relish.  Mustard fan? No prob.  Picky plain Jane?  Don’t touch that tray and eat away!  

Queue the arrival of the hamburger.

You probably guessed it, but the burger itself is nothing too exciting. It came on a paper plate with crisp iceberg lettuce(a must) and surprisingly decent looking tomato slices on the side. No onion, no pickle. The bun was on the smaller side but held up remarkably well to the smorgasbord of toppings (we’re no picky plain Janes). As for the patty: it was larger than expected, overhanging the bottom bun but devoid of any juices. Perched on top of this dry patty was a single slice of American cheese that had just began to melt. That was it. No secret burger sauce. No nothing. Just a simple burger one would expect to get at any back yard Memorial Day picnic.  But with the Hilltop condiment tray, it’s yours for the doctoring.

There were three things we loved about this burger:

1.)   The straight up no frills honesty in which it was served.

2.)   The ability to let you flavor it however you would like with the accompanying condiments.

3.)   And last but not least, the jaw-dropping price of $4.95.  

Now this isn’t the best burger we’ve had by any means but it will definitely be one that we enjoy again.  Plus it adds yet another perk to the nearly flawless Hilltop Tavern.

Another dark photo.  Cheeeese.  Eat it.  

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Burger Eleven: Don’s

We want to love Dons Pharmacy; on the surface it has it all. Sassy waitresses-- check. Slamming milkshakes-- nailed it. Perfectly crispy onion rings-- no problem. Kick ass retro diner charm in spades. Unfortunately the one thing Dons doesn’t have down is its burger. The 1950’s diner staple, and they missed the mark. Heartbreak.

As a quick recap: we define the “Class B” burger as that which more closely resembles a sandwich than a hamburger.  It has all the makings of a burger (bun, sauce, lettuce, tomato, onion, sometimes pickle) but the patty is so damned thin it might as well not be there.  Also the quality of all the mentioned accoutrements is on the low end of the scale.  That said, the Class B can still be delicious!  For details on how to pull this off please refer to our breakdown in the Chimacum Café burger review.

Don’s Pharmacy definitely serves a Class B, but its execution fails due to two key elements: lettuce and sauce.   Let’s start with the latter.  The conglomeration of mayo and ketchup was too ketchup-heavy and, thus, far too sweet.  As for the lettuce, this sandwich would have been greatly improved by the simple swap of their limp green leaf for the far superior crunch of iceberg.  

The bun was toasted but dry as a desert. In (what we’re finding to be classic PT fashion) there was enough onion for 5 burgers.  The tomato: sad. The cheese was gooey but flavorless.  The onion rings and service topped the charts.  Also: MILKSHAKES!!!!  But the hamburger?  Meh.  At the end of the day no matter how great your service, décor, abusive wait staff, side salad or onion rings,if your burger is subpar we simply can’t find the time.  Next.  

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Burger 10: The Bayview

Well, folks.  This is going to be a short one for the simple reason that not every burger deserves a tome.  

The best thing about the Bayview is the view and the best thing about their burger is that you can order a martini with it (we classy like dat).  Between their two cheeseburger options (the Hearty and the Deluxe) we ordered the latter.  The only difference between the two is the amount of meat, and only a masochist with a taste for dry beef would want more than the Bayview's standard 1/3 lb.  One of us ordered bacon, which was key due to the overwhelming sweetness delivered from this particular bun/sauce/onion combo.  The patty was thin and cooked to oblivion, the tomato pale and vapid, the bun had integrity but was sweet as hell.  The best part was the lettuce, which sounds like an insult but isn't because LETTUCE MATTERS. 

The cheese was fine, pickles not worth writing home about.  Pretty lame burger, but we've had MUCH worse.  All we can say is: if you order it, make sure you get bacon on top.  Otherwise it's not worth your time.  But how bout that view?!

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Burger Nine: McDonalds

“The food is awful but they’ve created something truly brilliant.” 

Remember when we let it slip that we were (not so secretly) looking forward to noshing on some McDonalds for the sake of this project?  Well we did it.  All these PT burgers take their toll on the pocket book so, in delving into some of our cheaper options, somehow McDonalds got propped to the top of the list.

McDonalds is an icon.  And a complicated one at that, so bear with us.

Before getting into it we’ll say this: our burgers at McDonalds were easy as hell to eat, but f@#king exhausting to describe.  The whole institution is so loaded—not just with calories, but with research, chemical manipulation, cultural, economic, and societal implications . . . the list goes on.  Between all the documentaries, parental warnings, peer-shaming, and our society’s current food/health consciousness, we all know what’s bad about McDonalds.  To sum it up, it exemplifies everything that is wrong with food today: poor quality ingredients expertly manipulated to excel at being mass-produced, cheap, and ADDICTIVE.

But instead of dwelling on all the things that make this burger experience bad, let’s talk about what was good: The Burgers!  (That’s what this is about right?)

First, the Quarter Pounder with Cheese. Let’s move from the outside in. The toasted sesame bun is malleable but durable. Easy to bite through, not too crispy and oh so easy on the mouth. Next comes the first layer of all American Kraft Single Cheese. This hangs over the bottom bun just enough that its little corner points drape down, enticing you for what is to come. But don’t you believe that this piece of cheese is placed there haphazardly! It is crucial in protecting the bottom bun from the “juicy” meat and thus helps to both keep the bun from disintegrating and to maintain the burger’s sound structure. The meat is next. Don’t ask us what’s in it, where it’s from, or how they prepare it (do you know where the meat in your $18.00 fancy pub burger comes from? We thought not.) but we can tell you that it’s about a quarter inch thick and devoid of all natural juice. The patty is basically a vehicle for more salt and some sort of umami. This is then draped with another slice of cheese, which helps keep all the remaining accoutrements from slipping out. This leads us to the most exciting part of the burger: the ketchup, mustard, white onion and pickle amalgamation that brings about 90% of the flavor. There is just something about those pickles that tie the whole thing together. Pure magic!!

Next we ate the iconic Big Mac. This thing is a squishy, lettuce-dripping behemoth (small compared to traditional pub burgers yet big for McDonalds). It’s probably the most well-known burger in the world. It rocks the same bun as the Quarter Pounder but they slip another piece of bread in the middle for stability/satiability we assume. They start with the bottom bun by slathering it up with the oh-so secret big mac sauce, then throw some chopped ice burg lettuce on top. Next comes a slice of American cheese followed by the first of two patties. Now this, dear readers, is where the golden arches get crafty. They basically just build the exact same burger on top but with pickles. Absolutely mind blowing, we know.

As for flavor we felt that both of these tasted pretty much the same, save that one had lettuce and Big Mac sauce and the other did not. Neither one was juicy. Both were incredibly sweet and—despite their massive calorie counts— left us wanting more.

How do they cram all those calories into something that essentially feels like eating a flavored cloud?  This gets down to the crux of the matter; whether or not you’re in love with the McDonalds burger, you can’t deny the genius engineering behind it.  The science that they have put into creating a burger that is “made” in the time it takes for your car to drive the 30 feet from one window to another—and then survive the 10-30 minute drive home—and still be delicious is mind blowing.

Other things worth noting:

1.)    Chain or no chain, the Port Townsend McDonalds has community.  Patrons and employees alike were hugging, greeting, smiling, cheering.  Everyone was happy has hell.  There was a dude who had set up office in the dining room to make use of that free double arches wifi; some dapper old man came in for his regular weeknight dinner of Fillet-O-Fish and black coffee; a former employee popped in to check on her old crew; heck, one of our long-lost acquaintances even tried to hook us up with extra goods despite the fact we never patronize his place of employment.  The vibes in this McDonalds are abuzz.

2.)    This franchise is a clean one.  Cool.

3.)  McDonald’s Fries. These things have a shelf life of about three minutes but if you can get at them before that that time is up you are in salty, blissful heaven.

Tell us what you think of McDonalds.  We know you go there.  

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Burger Eight: Sirens

Siren’s Pub is simultaneously a well-loved local bar and a bar that locals love to hate.  It’s notorious for long, raucous nights that end with glasses (or sometimes stools,  and on one occasion, the umbrellas) being thrown off the balcony and pricey, often forgotten tabs.  It’s also the best spot to enjoy a summer drink and some nachos while sunning on the aforementioned deck--when one is feeling patient enough to stomach the myriad tourists doing the same.  Love it or hate it, the one thing that Siren’s has covered is consistency.  Their food isn’t the greatest ever, but it’s tasty enough and you know exactly what to expect when you order.

Not cheap. 

Their burger is no exception.  In keeping with our rules, off their long hamburger list we ordered the House option.  We also ordered a Pub Burger because, with the word “pub” being in the Sirens name, it seemed like mayyybe that was also the burger of the house?  It totally isn’t, but whatever; it sounded interesting.   We stretched the rules.  So what?

The Pub Burger is super non-traditional with a pretzel bun, BBQ mustard sauce, and crispy shallots so we’ll sum it up in one sentence and leave our labors for the House Burger.  While saucy and moist, this hamburger gets lost in a mess of one-note sweetness and textural monotony.  Only recommended for those who like their savories to taste like dessert.  Not us.

The fries are much better now that Sirens finally has a deep fryer. 

Now on to the real deal: the House Burger is in most respects a classic, save the fact that it comes standard with crumbled gorgonzola cheese—a welcome addition in our opinion.  This burger is more or less worth one’s time, but Siren’s consistently overcooks their patties and there doesn’t seem to be any way around it no matter how hard one begs. Perhaps it’s an over-ambitious grill cook pressing down on the patty and thus removing every ounce of juice?  Not sure.  Fortunately for Sirens, their meat is damn flavorful despite its mistreatment, and the gooiness of the gorgonzola and mayo create enough moisture to maintain a passable textural balance.

Were the patty cooked as ordered the bun would have been up to the job of holding the extra juice, as this is one serious bun.  Uber thick and toasted it’s almost too much crunch for a standard roof palate (those things just don’t callus, hard as we try).

Insane bearclaw bun. 

The onions were cut too thick, but there was something about the texture of the tomato that really tied everything together.  It wasn’t too ripe (obviously-- it’s winter in the NW) but thank god it wasn’t crunchy either.  Perhaps it was its generous cut or its cool temperature, but its presence among all that meat and cheese was tops!  (This may have been an anomaly, as it added nothing—not even color—to the Pub Burger).  The gorgonzola was balanced in flavor and complemented the meat instead of competing with it, as bleus are known to do.

So all in all it wasn’t so bad?  And thanks to that reliable Siren’s consistency, we’re pretty sure you’ll be served exactly what we were if you decide to try one yourself.  Bon appetite!

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Burger Seven: Mezzaluna!

You know that moment amidst the unending dregs of a Port Townsend winter when the sun pokes out just long enough to shine its glorious rays straight at the impound lot at the Pourhouse? So you oblige this demanding sun and roll yourself down to the water for a blustery beer?  And that beer becomes two or three because EVERYONE ELSE IN THE CITY followed those same magnificent rays to revel in the cheery company of their fellow townspeople?  And then all of a sudden the sun retreats and you find yourself not only uncommonly cold but ABSOLUTELY STARVING and all you want is to sink your teeth into the most satisfying hamburger of all time but you worry no burger will satiate since the past three you’ve consumed were garbage and you’ve lost all hope that the tastiness you desire even exists in this town?  But you go for it anyway and retreat to the warmest place you can think of, sit your ass at the bar, and order that damn burger that your life depends on?  And then it comes, and it looks good and smells good but there’s no way it can be THAT good?  And then you pause, breathe, bring burger to mouth, bite, and IT’S EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANTED?!  

Well that moment—that one right there—happened to us at the Mezzaluna Lounge (Silverwater Café). Thank you, Burger Overlords, for delivering us evidence of your delicious potential!

Here’s why this burger was great, working from the bottom up:  

-The bun had enough integrity to withstand all the sauce and sloppiness

-Nice spread of house burger sauce

-Massive ½ LB patty that was grilled pretty damn close to the temperatures asked for (one rare, one medium rare)

-The tomato was cut thick but on the riper side and didn’t slide out the ass end like most do

-Good amount of mixed greens

-Ample Mayo

-Grilled Bun

-Pickle spear on top had good crunch, bite and flavor

Also, despite our rules, only one of us ordered cheese. Honestly, the burger was juicy and flavorful enough that it didn’t need it, but the cheese still contributed to the overall taste of the sandwich without being overwhelming.  

The only negative we’d like to point out were the onions.  There were lots and lots of red onions, which proved to be too strong for one of us and just fine for the other.  Maybe they were soaked beforehand?  Maybe the kitchen got lucky and scored a mild one? In most cases this onion ratio would have been no-goodsville, but for whatever reason, this time it wasn’t that offensive.  

So there you have it: a damn good, juicy burger.  The best Class A burger we’ve had so far.  Bravo Mezzaluna!  Now you go eat one and tell us what you think.  

Don’t you dare say anything about this picture.   

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Burger Six: The Uptown

Rumor has it that the current food service at the Uptown Pub is about to close. While this is sad news for all involved, the need for closure could have a little something to do with a lack of consistency.  In the time that the current food purveyors have been in operation at the Uptown, we’ve probably consumed about 6 burgers between the two of us and each one was different.  Like, vastly different.  Different patties, different accoutrements, different buns.  Since the chalkboard menu changes daily, this is more or less permissible, but it would be nice to at least be able to count on one killer patty.  We’ve eaten great burgers at the Uptown, but had pretty dismal ones as well.

Our most recent belonged in the latter category.  While the bun was awesome (like, the best bun we’ve eaten so far), everything else failed.  A dry, preformed patty topped with two bread and butter pickle chips and two thin slivers of tomato screamed for more of the sadly portioned mayo spread.  A sprinkling of shredded romaine evoked depression-era garnishes your grandparents pray to forget.  The fries were elegantly lithe and crisp, but vastly over seasoned, leaving our tongues lashed and our palates spent.

Thanks to his tenure at the Ajax, we know the chef knows good food, just as we know he’s able to execute it.  So we’re going to chalk up this cry for help in burger form to a white flag of surrender.  Dude’s done.  He knows he’s closing, is likely depressed, and his food is showing it.  Hopefully his next venture will better showcase the abilities and passion we know he has.  We wish him luck.  We also hope the next Uptown food vendors can deliver what all pub-goers want: consistent, delicious, blue collar burgers.  

not much to say about the cheese.  

bergar. 

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Burger Five: The Geoduck

Do we even like burgers?

In the above photo the Geoduck burger actually looks pretty yummy.  It’s not.

We’re going to cut to the chase: the burger at The Geoduck sucked.  We’ve had an especially difficult time writing about it because it hardly seemed worthy of putting pen to paper.  In fact it was so lackluster that mid-burger we began discussing whether or not we even liked hamburgers.  Part of the reason we took on this project was because we believed that a burger was the type of dish we would want to eat even when it wasn’t great.  Even when it was bad.  I mean, McDonalds is a sad representation of the worst parts of American culture, but we’d chow down on a Big Mac no problem for the sake of research.  Or so we thought.

Our inability to chomp forth at the Geoduck made us wonder if we even remembered what a good hamburger tasted like.  Was there ever such a thing?  (Spoiler alert: there was, but we had to follow this thought through).  We realized that our enjoyment of subpar burgers was (not surprisingly) directly tied to the company with whom we ate.  This ties in to our last burger review, for which we received a lot of flak.  We knew this would happen, as the Valley Burger is not just a sandwich for many, but a memory.  A history.  A legacy.  Yet we were honest about the burger from a purely gastronomical point of view.  (Plus we actually weren’t that harsh; their meat simply sucks, which is an indisputable fact.)  But one especially poignant comment we received about our Valley Burger review was from a young lady who explained that her love of that burger wasn’t so much about the product itself, but instead about the memories surrounding every encounter she’d had with it.  Her times at the Valley were always spent with dearly loved friends or family, surrounded by music and cheer, pull-tabs and beer.  And with this she hit the nail on the head.

Not just with hamburgers, but with all food: it’s about love.  Just like the people we hold dearest, we love them not despite their flaws, but because of them.  If there’s enough beauty (beauty of spirit, beauty of soul, laughter, love) surrounding a thing it doesn’t matter how unappealing some of its other characteristics are.  And, in the case of food, the things that surround it aren’t only a bun and some ambiance, but the company with whom it’s consumed.  It’s for just this reason that we’ll most definitely be returning to the Valley Tavern time and time again—we’ll probably even eat their burger a few more times (“the works” is a kind of love, isn’t it?).  But we won’t be eating the Geoduck’s.

All the menu items you should be ordering instead of a burger. 

Here’s the thing: The Geoduck is an awesome place with a stellar view and some top-notch blue collar charm.  We’ll definitely return.  But please people, don’t bother with their burger.  Can we just sum it up in five bullet points?  (It’s really not worth more than that):

- ��        Cold, flavorless patty

-          Grainy, broken, sponge of a bun: yellow, cold, and wide as a Frisbee.

-          The cheese didn’t even melt (can we say cold again?)

-          Poorly distributed mayo

-          No pickle

But their fries are pretty great!  Also the service was Twin Peaks perfect (but our rules state that neither of those matter).

Good fries! (Ignore that sandwich. It’s technically not a burger and it wasn’t good anyway.)

Okay, let’s end on a high note!  We earlier promised that good burgers do, in fact, exist despite how miserable the company you eat them with.  We each took some trips down memory lane and remembered a few of our individual favorites (sorry, folks; divulging these might give away our identities), but we also were reminded of a couple of greats existent in the meager tenure of this blog: first, the surprisingly scrumptious Old Whiskey Mill burger and, second, the delightful and enjoyable Chimacum burger (which was tasty despite being nearly patty-less and cheap).  So there you have it; great hamburgers are out there!  Praise be to all things holy that our next burger be among them.