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Bordentown, New Jersey: Mastoris Diner Serves Up Massive Burgers
144 U.S. 130, Bordentown, NJ (map); 609-298-4650; mastoris.com
Cooking Method: Griddled
Short Order: Giant hamburgers are constructed from house ground sirloin and served on homemade buns. Toppings work best on this burger.
Want Fries with That? They come with the burger, but they're just generic steak fries. The accompanying coleslaw is excellent.
Price: $9.75 - $10.50
Mastoris is massive in every way. The restaurant is so large that it has several themed rooms, each of which would make for a large restaurant by itself. You can choose between the "Diner" room, which lives up to its name by looking like a typical Jersey diner, or the "Rockwell Room" in the back, which is a tribute to Norman Rockwell. I chose to dine in the "Mastoris Lounge"—with its wood paneling and oil paintings, I hoped a bit of the steakhouse vibe would rub off on the burgers.
The menu is also massive—the sandwich and burger menu alone has over 100 items—and the portions are simply enormous. Before you even order, two giant pieces of homemade bread (one made with cinnamon the other stuffed with a sweet cheese) are deposited on your table, and you could just eat those and be full. But that's just the beginning. Burgers clock in at 3/4-pounds each and come with a huge plate of fries and coleslaw.
The good news about the burgers is that they're ground in house from fresh, never frozen sirloin. The burger is served on a homemade bun that is admirable not only for its softness, airiness, and pleasing chewiness, but because it's able to contain the buxom patty without wilting or crumbling. Not that you will be able to get you gob around the sandwich, unless you are Andre the Giant or have a jaw that decouples.
The regular cheeseburger comes with a paltry two slices of white American cheese. This would be the right amount for a quarter-pound burger, but on the Mastoris patty the cheese is a mere rumor. To add insult to injury, the cheese was scorched—not that I could really notice through all the beef and bread, but still, it was a bit careless.
The beef was just fine—perfectly cooked to the medium rare ordered with a nice thick mahogany crust and a decent amount of juice. It had a decent, but not great flavor. I'm not usually a fan of sirloin, preferring the bawdy mouth feel of a straight chuck. Although serving sirloin burgers may carry the implication that one is using top steak, this is generally not the case, as sirloin can refer to several different cuts: It can be the top sirloin, which is also referred to as the strip (or NY strip), or the bottom sirloin, which is less tender and most often what burgers are made from.
Despite the decent flavor and moderate juiciness of the beef, the sheer size of the plain burger made it difficult to attain any synergy—it was hard to get both the bread and beef into a single bite just using hands. Knife and fork are required, which sort of defeats the purpose of a sandwich.
I also tried the Mastoris Burger, which comes topped with pepperoni, tomato, red onion, and melted provolone. The cheese was applied in a far more generous amount than the plain cheeseburger, and while the flavor combination was anything but traditional it seems that this is the type of burger you come to Mastoris for. The plain burger is just that: plain. But doctored with toppings—the menu has twelve "composed" burgers—and devoured with a knife and fork, Mastoris' burgers offer an oversized, bang-for-the-buck value proposition using mostly homemade ingredients (the steak fries seem prepackaged).
I should note that you need to order your burgers rare or medium rare if you want your burger freshly cooked (which, of course, you do). Burgers ordered medium are par-cooked ahead of time due to their sheer size.
FREE <b>Cheeseburger</b> at Champps « AddictedToSaving.com
Crest Cafe's Butter Burger Redefines Gluttony in San Diego
[Photographs: Erin Jackson]
Crest Cafe425 Robinson Avenue, San Diego CA (map); 619-295-2510; crestcafe.net
Cooking Method: Charbroiled
Short Order: Gluttony at its best: a burger stuffed with butter, then topped with cheese and spicy mayo. You won't find a juicier burger anywhere else
Want Fries With That? Go for it! All burgers come with your choice of crispy fresh cut fries, homemade potato chips, or several salads
Price: Butter Burger, $10.95; Crest Burger, $8.95
Notes: 2 for 1 burgers on Tuesday evenings, plus free delivery if you don't feel like hunting for parking in Hillcrest
If eating a burger stuffed with butter is wrong, then I don't want to be right. Crest Cafe has turned me on to a higher form of gluttony than I ever thought possible, and it feels good to be bad.
The cozy and colorful diner in Hillcrest features classic American comfort food, including their signature burger: the butter burger. This beast of a burger is made of half a pound of ground beef stuffed with garlic and herb butter. During the cooking process even more of the seasoned butter is slathered on top. And then, as if that wasn't enough, it's topped with cheese and a spicy garlic mayo.
I'm more than a little proud to say I conquered this beast and lived to tell the tale. For those of you AHT readers who can't make it to San Diego to take on the butter burger, here's the recipe.
I was initially concerned that a burger stuffed with butter would be nothing more than a hot, sloppy mess. I worried that the butter wouldn't absorb into the patty, and when I bit into it, it would look like the gooey yellow center of a Boston creme doughnut. I was wrong. Instead, the butter and the beef became one, and let me tell you, those two ingredients made a beautiful baby.
Calling this burger juicy is like calling the Pacific Ocean damp—a bit of an understatement. The burger was cooked medium and could barely contain its juices, which tasted beefy, garlicky, and spicy all at once. The mayo (which is flavored with paprika, cayenne, and cumin) melted into the burger along with the cheese, creating a unified flavor in every bite. Time literally stood still while I was devouring the burger. It was that good.
Meanwhile, my dining companion chose the Crest Burger, which was topped with guacamole, jalapenos, and jalapeno cheese. Though not as over-the-top as the butter burger, this half pounder packed more than enough flavor and was a great option for everyday eating (while the butter burger, at least for me, is strictly a once-in-awhile indulgence). Both burgers were served with thick slabs of tomato, lettuce, red onion, and a pickle spear.
We both opted for potato-based sides: fresh cut french fries and homemade potato chips. The classic-cut, skin-on fries were the perfect grease sponge to my butter burger, while the crispy, thin cut potato chips were a crunchier alternative.
An indulgence like Crest Cafe's butter burger demands a big appetite, but the crazy thing about it is even though it's so much richer than any burger I've ever tasted (and a hefty eight ounces to boot), eating it didn't put me into a meat coma like I expected. I wouldn't call this beast of a burger "light", but it also wasn't painfully heavy. In terms of an indulgent once-in-a-while burger, it was just right.
Chapel Hill, NC: Allen and Son Pit Cooked Bar-B-Q
6203 Millhouse Rd, Chapel Hill NC 27516; map); 919-942-7576
Cooking Method: Griddled
Short Order: A potentially excellent burger is hampered by local law that doesn't allow ground beef to be served at a temperature less than cooked all the way through
Price: Hamburger with chili, onions, and mustard, $5; + 15¢ for cheese
I know, I know: It's a barbecue place. I get it. Before you get all up in arms about me "ordering the wrong thing" or "missing the point" of the place, understand this: AHT is a hamburger blog, and we talk about burgers here. If there's a burger on the menu, it's fair game for review.
With that out of the way, let's talk burgers.
I was at Allen and Sons to eat some of their justifiably hyped barbecue, but when I noticed a table full of construction workers all eating hamburgers my interest was piqued. In fact, Allen and Sons is more of a family-style restaurant than a barbecue joint—the menu offers plenty beyond the 'cue such as fish, chicken, and a wealth of sandwiches, including the massive burgers I was admiring from afar.
Priced at only $5 for a hamburger with mustard, chili, and onions (add a whopping 15¢ for cheese), the burger clocks in at a hefty half pound. I decided to skip the chili on the burger. I also ordered a barbecue plate (that means chopped, vinegared pork in North Carolina) and doubted my eating ability. I turned out to be right: It was a massive amount of food.
The burger looked magnificent, even with my penchant for thin, griddle-cooked smash burgers. The golden sesame studded bun did an admirable job of containing the mass of beef and slick of molten cheese, diced onion, and mustard that cascaded off the patty. I liked the classic roadside flavor profile of the topping combination a lot—tangy cheese, sweet onions, and savory mustard complimented the hearty flavor of the buxom patty. The beef had a decent enough charring on the outside, with a moderately salty crust, but because it was cooked all the way through it was rather dry and, unfortunately, had the texture of meatloaf.
Frankly, it was far too thick and devoid of textural contrast and juiciness to be truly enjoyable. I regretted not getting chili on top—it would have added welcome moisture.
To be fair, Allen and Sons are complying with North Carolina Department of Environment and Natural Resources statute 15A NCAC 18A .2609 [PDF] that "requires pre-ground ground beef and foods containing ground beef to be cooked to an internal temp of at least 155°F (68°C)." While the law is a bit leaner on those who grind in-house (that beef must be cooked to an internal temp of at least 130°F), Allen and Sons doesn't appear to grind their own, or at least is not willing to serve burger at even medium rare. (Thanks to AHT reader pgym for the tip.) That's too bad because if they did cook the burger less, it would make for an unequivocal recommendation.
As it is, I recommend you get the chili on top or somehow convince the kitchen to embrace the rebel spirit of the South and buck the law by sending out a medium or medium rare burger.
On the Cusp of Brilliance with the Burger at Longman and Eagle
2657 N. Kedzie Ave Chicago, IL 60647 (map); (773) 276-7110; longmanandeagle.com
Cooking Method: Grilled
Short Order: Spectacular meat, this burger is a couple easy but significant tweaks from being among the best in town.
Want Fries With That? You bet your Lifesavers
Price: $12
Inspired by my trip to Atlanta's Holeman & Finch where I had a spectacular burger and some delicious cuts of meat that would bring tears of joy to Chichi Wang, I headed over to Longman & Eagle when I got back to Chicago. L & E opened at the beginning of the year in Logan Square and has suffered no growing pains, earning national praise as one of the country's five best bars for eating by Esquire (Holeman & Finch got the same honor).
We had a meal of roasted marrow bones, grilled pork cheek, and the absolutely remarkable Tête du Cochon. We also sampled bits of L & E's ridiculously large selection of whiskey/Scotch/rye/bourbon. All of that led up to the purpose of my visit: to check out the burger.
I'm mentioned a couple of times before that I think the recent burger boom has completely changed the expectations many of us have for burgers. In years past, all it took was for a burger to be large and made with fresh ground beef to stand out. That's how places like Hackney's got so popular. Today, with an increasing number of places featuring high quality ground beef, the stakes have been raised substantially. Eaters may not be able to tell different quality eggs apart, but with beef the difference is huge. The flipside of the growth in places using exceptional beef is that in order to be at the absolute height of the burger world, even more than quality cow is needed for a burger to be among the elite.
Longman & Eagle starts off strong by using a patty from Slagel Family Farms. The beef is simply phenomenal and my burger was grilled to rare perfection. There wasn't much of a crust, but that's a forgivable flaw as that's hard to pull off on a grilled rare burger. Not content to stop with good beef, L & E sources every component of the burger from quality producers.
The burger is topped with some fantastic sharp cheddar from Widmer's Cheese Cellars, a third generation Wisconsin cheese maker. The bacon comes from Nueske's which is remarkable for a side of bacon, but I've grown to think is a little bit too powerful for a burger. The bun, a brioche from the otherwise excellent La Farine bakery, was the burger's massive flaw. The bun was so bready that it actually came close to overwhelming a half-pound of beef, rich bacon, and sharp cheddar cheese.
Sitting atop the Tête du Cochon, which was the highlight of my excellent meal, was a perfectly cooked sunny side up duck egg. I found out after I'd eaten that, while it's not on the menu, adding a duck egg to the burger is an option. With lesser meat (in quality or quantity) I'd avoid adding a duck egg because it's so rich, but the patty at Longman and Eagle could handle it. The burger I had was very good. With a duck egg, it would have been exceptional. With a duck egg and a different bun, it could be among the best in town.
One part of the meal that needs no tweaking at all is the fries. Cooked in beef fat, these skin-on beauties were cooked to crispy/pillowy perfection. There's really not much to say about them other than in a city full of great french fries, these are definitely in the top tier.
The Burger Lab: How to Make The Best Chili For a Burger (or Hot Dog!)
[Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt]
My desert island burger: Grind beef (sirloin, brisket, and oxtail) and form into loose 1/4 pound patty. Season well and griddle in beef fat until crisp and deep brown. Apply cheese and melt until gooey. Place on toasted potato roll with onions, pickles, burger sauce. Eat with napkins.
As glorious as that may sound to me, it'd be a sad state of affairs if that's the only burger I ever ate in my life. I mean, Rubber Soul may be better than Revolver, but that doesn't mean that I don't occasionally look at that pencil-drawn album cover and think to myself: I've just got to get you into my life.
So it is with chili burgers, the Sgt. Pepper of the burger world: a tad overwrought, a little bit messy, just a few too many ideas going on at once, a little more popular than it should be, but really, really delicious nonetheless. And as AHT'r cedarglen has rightfully pointed out, we've not given chili burgers their due here at the Burger Lab.
You'd think that making a really great chili burger is as simple as making really great chili and a really great burger and sticking them together. But it ain't that simple. The problem is that a great chili is a meal in itself, not a condiment. It should have a wide variance of texture: rich, thick sauce, small bits of beef that act as flavoring, and larger chunks of tender braised beef to offer some bite. Throw all that on top of a burger, and it doesn't just overwhelm the burger—it tears it to shreds and stomps on the remains.
What I was after is not just the perfect chili, but the perfect chili-as-condiment. For topping burgers, fries, or hot dogs, chili should have slightly less kick than a full-fledged, punch-you-in-the-mouth-with-flavor chili, with a much finer, sauce-like texture that doesn't distract from the crispness of the burger or overwhelm the bun.
Building FlavorIn my previous studies in chili, I'd already figured out a few of the keys to great chili flavor. Here's a brief summary:
- Use dried chiles instead of powder. This is the number one way to improve your chili! Three reasons: First, because volatile flavor molecules begin to dissipate as soon as chiles are ground, whole chiles will have much more flavor. Second, grinding your own chiles gives you more control over flavor. Third, chili powder can come out gritty even after cooking. By using fresh chiles, you can soak and puree them, which gives you a smoother finished texture.
- Use a mix of dried chiles. I like to use a three way mix of sweet and fresh New Mexico or Costeños, hot Cascabel or Arbol, and rich and fruity Ancho or Pasillas. Using a mix will cover the entire flavor spectrum, adding complexity and fullness.
- Toast whole spices before grinding and adding them to the chili. Toasting helps develop new, more complex flavors in the spices. Toasting post-grinding simply causes the flavors to dissipate. Cumin and coriander are classic chili spices. Star anise and clove are not necessary, but add an underlying complexity without making their presence too known.
- Add some "umami bombs" like anchovies, soy sauce, and Marmite. Again, this is optional, but it really improves the savoriness of the chili.
- Finish off the chili with a splash of something volatile, like booze or vinegar. The more volatile the liquid, the more easily aromatic compounds will jump off the surface and into your nose.
Those of you who've read the original chili story may note that I haven't mentioned the chocolate, the use of whole short ribs, the coffee, the fresh chiles, etc. For the sake of burger chili, I've found that it's not only easier to skip a lot of the more difficult steps, but it's actually better: as I've said, the flavor of this chili is a little less complex so that it doesn't overwhelm the burger. In fact, after testing both chili made with dried chiles and chili powder, even the version made with chili powder fared just fine on top of a burger. It's not ideal, but it'd do in a pinch.
Buttered UpThe first step of chili is to cook down onions and garlic in order to get rid of some of their raw edge, and to bloom the ground spices to pull out their flavor and distribute it through the fat which will form the flavor base of the stew.
While a really great chili can take upwards of three hours to simmer to rich, complex perfection, I was after something a little faster here—my burgers just can't wait that long. In order to give the onion, garlic, and spice base of my chili a quick flavor boost, I used a trick that I first learned from Marcella Hazan, in her incomparably simple and tasty recipe for tomato sauce: Use butter instead of olive oil.
It seems a simple substitution, but it makes a world of difference. While in her recipe she simply throws everything into the pot to simmer together, I found that sautéeing my chopped onions and garlic in the butter until soft was the way to go. The sweetness and richness of butter brings out the sweetness of the onions. It more easily forms an emulsion in the sauce so that you don't end up with the "oil slick" that olive oil can sometimes give. When tasted side by side, the difference in texture and flavor was undeniable.*
After cooking down my onions and garlic, I added my toasted ground cumin, coriander, star anise, and clove and allowed them to bloom before tossing in my ground beef to brown (I figured true ground beef would form a smoother, saucier chili than the beef chunks I generally prefer). I then added some chopped anchovies, can of tomato paste followed by my rehydrated, puréed peppers before topping the whole thin up with chicken stock and simmering it for a little over an hour until the flavor had developed. To finish it, I spiked it with bourbon and a tablespoon of vinegary Frank's Red Hot.**
The results were not bad. Really good, even. Flavor-wise, it was spot on. Complex and spicy without being overwhelming. Texture-wise, however, it was a bomb. The beef still stayed in fairly large chunks, while the sauce was thin enough that it turned the whole burger into an inedibly messy affair.
After ever so briefly contemplating throwing the whole thing in the blender to smooth it out, I realized that "beef milkshake" is a place that I wasn't willing to go, even in the name of good food. There had to be a better way to get the texture right.
I knew that the browning phase can cause meat to seize up into chunks that don't break down as they simmer, so I decided to try skipping that step all together. Rather than adding the beef before the liquid, I reversed the order, adding the beef to the pot of simmering chili-liquid. It may sound gross, but there's actually precedence for this technique in Cincinnati Chili, a regional chili variant in which the ground beef is boiled in chili sauce and served atop spaghetti.
Despite my optimism, this attempt came out even worse than the first batch. Ed Levine likes to refer to "cosmic oneness"—the state that great fried chicken achieves when the crust and chicken meld together into a whole. I think the term is equally applicable to a good chili: The meat and the sauce should be inseparable from each other, forming a symbiotic relationship that elevates both elements to new heights.
This batch was the opposite: discrete bits of boiled beef with an almost wormy appearance surrounded by a wet sauce. But I wasn't prepared to abandon the no-brown method quite yet.
Taking WhisksHere's a thought: When cooking scrambled eggs, two very different outcomes are possible. If you cook the eggs fast, stirring and folding with a spatula, you end up with fluffy eggs with large, tender curds. If, on the other hand, you cook the eggs slowly, stirring them with a whisk, you end up with super creamy eggs with a smooth, almost custard-like texture. Same ingredients, slightly different process, vastly different end results.
Would the same thing happen with my beef? I mean, when you get down to it, a pot full of liquidy ground beef is not all that difference from a pan full of eggs. Both are mostly water with a smattering of raw proteins mixed into it. It's the way that these proteins set that makes the difference in the finished product. Let the proteins coagulate and link up very fast with minimal disturbance, and you end up with large chunks. Cook them slowly while agitating, and you should end up with smaller pieces.
It was worth a shot.
This time, I started my chili the same way by sautéeing the onions and garlic, then adding the spices, tomato paste, chiles, and other flavorings. But instead of adding the beef directly, I first added half of the chicken stock, which rapidly cooled the contents of the pot. Off heat, I added the beef and used a whisk to mix it into the liquid until it was completely homogeneous slurry. It sure wasn't pretty, but I hoped my risk would pan out.
After adding the remainder of the chicken stock (adding all of it while mixing the beef proved too difficult to get the beef to break down smoothly), I set the pot on the heat and slowly brought it to a simmer while whisking it constantly. Things were looking good: The beef was broken down into tiny particles and the chili showed an unprecedented level of homogeneity.
75 minutes of slow simmering brought the flavors into sharp focus, but the texture was still not quite there. Despite the beef being nice and smooth, the sauce itself was still a little too thin.
I turned to my favorite chili thickener for some support:
Maseca is dehydrated corn meal treated with lime and is intended for making tortillas, tamales, and other corn meal-based products. As a thickener, it's outstanding. It provides richness and texture while adding a subtle nutty flavor of its own. Unlike a flour roux, it need not be cooked down before adding it to liquid. All you've got to do is form a slurry with equal parts cold water, then stir it directly into your stew.
A minute or two later, and my chili was literally thick enough to stand a spoon in: the ideal texture for topping a burger or hot dog without overly squishing out when you bite into it or soaking into the bun.
The real-deal-meal-in-a-bowl stuff may be the pope of chili town, but we've just elected it's official constable.
So there you go, AHT readers: No more complaints that we're not an equal-opportunity burger-topping website!
Next up: melty, gooey cheese sauce, because if I don't tackle this soon, my wife*** will kill me.
And if you'll excuse me, I've now got some chili to attend to.
Continue here for Condiment Chili for Chili Dogs, Chili Burgers, or Chili Fries
*Don't get me wrong —there are many sauces for which the flavor of great olive oil is essential—just not for chili.
**Surely this should take ketchup's place as America's greatest condiment!
***who spent the happiest birthday of her life eating cheese sauce at a Fuddruckers,
More tests, more results! Follow The Food Lab on Facebook or Twitter.
Get the Recipe!Today's Special Burger at Rub BBQ: The Working Man's Burger
Today's special burger at Rub BBQ is the Working Man's Burger ($9.25) topped with chipped ham (very thin slices), sautéed onions, and a beer and cheese sauce. It will be available for dinner after 6 p.m. 208 West 23rd Street, New York NY 10011 (map); 212-524-4300
Top Posts from Last Week
In case you missed them, here are the top three new posts from the last week.
1. On the Cusp of Brilliance with the Burger at Longman and Eagle
The meat is great, but it'd be better with a duck egg and different bun.
2. The Burger Lab: How to Make The Best Chili For a Burger (or Hot Dog!)
You may not want to eat this chili on its own, but plopped on a burger? Yes.
3. Chapel Hill, NC: Allen and Son Pit Cooked Bar-B-Q
It'd be good if it weren't overcooked.
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Stuffed Blue Cheese Burgers
“I have an idea” are words that tend to scare my wife, especially after my Backyard Blowout Burgers that, while awesome, were admittedly quite an involved production and managed to dirty every single dish in the kitchen. Still, I decided to start my Labor Day Grillathon with another new cheeseburger I’d been dreaming of. This burger brainstorm was more simple. Understated. Elegant, even. In fact, the big-ticket ingredient in this creation was downright upscale:
The goal was a stuffed cheeseburger filled with blue cheese. I started with my basic Jucy Lucy recipe: 85/15 beef mixed with a white-bread-and-milk paste to help with moisture and act as a binder. Then I flattened out a thin patty and topped it with a tablespoon of blue cheese crumbles.
I laid another thin patty on top and pinched the edges together, sealing the cheese inside. These third-pounders were dusted with Montreal steak seasoning and popped in the freezer while my charcoal ashed over. Once I had a hot and well-oiled cooking grate, my burgs hit the grill with a sexy sizzle.
That short stay in the freezer was of particular interest to me. My last batch of Jucy Lucys saw some unfortunate cracking and leakage, and I wondered then if a quick subzero chill might keep the cheese safely encased inside the beef as the burgers cooked. When it was time to flip, I got my answer:
No breakage, zero seepage. Less than an hour in the freezer had made all the difference in the world. Now I went to work on my burger topping. I figured since I was already going slightly gourmet with blue cheese, I might as well fully commit with some large portobello mushroom caps.
Once the burgers were cooked through, I removed them from the heat and let them rest at room temp. That’s key to any burgers you pull off the grill, but it’s especially important with stuffed burgers. That cheesy center is like molten lava: bite in right away, and you’re asking for a messy lapful of liquid fire. Give it 5 or 10 minutes to congeal slightly and come down to an edible temperature, and you’ll be glad you did. I used the time to finish the mushroom caps over direct heat, then assembled the burger:
Perhaps a little vanilla-looking in appearance, this burger made me think about how a lot of burger-topping strategy comes down to the visual aspect. Consider how many restaurant cheebies hit the table open-faced: perfectly-melted golden-hued cheese on full display, bright green lettuce, purple-tinged onion rings, and a ruby-red tomato slice waiting neatly alongside. You don’t necessarily need those items, but it sure makes for a pretty picture to have all those textures and colors stacked atop one another. By contrast, this burger was largely monochromatic, in several shades of brown and tan.
Cutting it half, while not standard operating procedure for me, is the preferred way to show off a stuffed burger. So here you go:
The Montreal seasoning made for beautifully-seasoned beef. The blue cheese was wonderfully creamy and brought a tangy richness to the party, although an extra half-tablespoon of it per burger would have been okay, too. The portobello caps added an earthy, meaty chew that also made for a really satisfying mouth feel.
All in all, an exceptionally tasty burger. Deceptively so, given how unimpressive it appears on your plate. This Jucy Lucy cousin may look like Plain Jane… but it just goes to prove that, with these girls, it really is what’s on the inside that counts.
Related posts:
Green Chile <b>Cheeseburgers</b> and Sweet Potato Fries | Foodie Lawyer
Lego <b>Cheeseburger</b> | Fun is 2 cool
Banh Mi Burger from Rub BBQ
You can only get burgers at Rub BBQ on Monday nights after 6 p.m. Every week they offer a special burger-of-the-week in addition to their Rub Burger, hamburger, and cheeseburger that are offered every Monday.
Last night I tried Rub BBQ's Vietnamese-inspired Banh Mi Burger ($9.25) featuring an oblong beef patty mixed with shallots, garlic, ground peanuts, fish sauce, and coconut milk, topped with shredded housemade Asian barbecued pork and slices of housemade paté, strips of pickled daikon and carrot, and cilantro, all piled in a spicy aioli-smeared baguette.
Of course, it was good. Can't go wrong with a savory, moderately juicy triple meatstuff stack topped with crunchy pickle shreds in a soft, toasted baguette. The baguette wasn't as light and shatteringly crispy as a typical banh mi baguette—more bready and dense, with a thicker, crunchy crust—but it complemented and held up to the filling well, and thankfully didn't result in backslide like the bagel burger. The burger had a tinge of heat, but like Law and Food said in their review, more spiciness would've been welcome.
If I hadn't devoured the burger so quickly, I'd probably have more to say about it. Unfortunately, my party of four waited a little over an hour for our order (they gave us some free cornbread in the meantime) and by the time the burgers came, we attacked them, probably forgetting to chew/breathe properly.
Having been to Rub BBQ five times before, mostly around 7 p.m., I'm sure that waiting over an hour for your food there is atypical. Nothing close to that wait has ever happened to me before. But for some reason, last night the restaurant went from fairly empty to swamped in between 7 p.m. and 7:15 p.m. when my party was seated, and a ton of those people ordered burgers. Even though my friends enjoyed the food—we shared the special burgers and burnt ends—they'll probably remember Rub as "the place with the really long wait," not "the place with delicious meat." (They comped our beverages in light of the wait.)
Next time I go to Rub BBQ for a burger, I'll try to get there before 7 to avoid potential kitchen implosion.
Rub BBQ208 West 23rd Street, New York NY 10011 (map)
212-524-4300
