Whiskey for Everyone and a Make-Your-Own Burger Smack Down

I notice a slight touch of perspiration on my brow as I hop from my taxi in downtown Chicago.   Is it the unusually warm autumn temperatures in the Windy City?  I think not.   Is it the suitcase I’m lugging packed with my business clothes?  Negative.  It is nerves - flat out culinary pressure.   I’m dining with my old pal Mad Me-Shell, and she’s already transformed the meal into Iron Chef style event.  

It’s no secret that Mad Me-Shell is a fierce competitor.   She’s famous for challenging complete strangers to street food duels on Twitter.   This time, she’s got me on her radar.    I’ve been invited to meet her at 25 Degrees at 736 N. Clark Street, which is described as “Bordello meets Burger Bar.”   Sweet!   “And,” adds Mad Me-Shell,  “They have a build your own burger option, so we can have a little competition.”  

Why do I feel like I’m being set up? 

Zany has decided to sit this event out.  She’s roughly seven months pregnant and the little bundle of joy is just wearing her down.  Personally I think it’s kind of a lame excuse.  What unborn child wouldn’t enjoy a healthy shot of all-beef protein?   We’ll have to check back in a couple of years and see what impact this decision to deprive the youngster of 10 essential nutrients has had.  Oh well.  I’ll just have to eat her share. 

I take a seat in a banquette surrounded by red velvet wallpaper.   Already I’m feeling a little frisky.   Mad Me-Shell breezes into the room, and lays down the gauntlet.  Or maybe that’s her credit card.  We consult the cocktail menu.   “Whiskey for everyone!” Mad proclaims.   I order a “Mayday,” which consists of Maker’s Mark, Domain de Canton ginger, oranges and soda.   Mad has a “Whiskey Smash” made of Bulleit Bourbon and lemon mint.    My guard is up.  This woman is no novice when it comes to whisky.  She can drink the WWF under the table.   

Mad has just returned from a whirlwind culinary tour of London and Paris with her mother.  “My mom was such a good sport,” she explains.  “I dragged her down a dark alley near Covent Garden in search of an elusive European food truck.  We had the most amazing Neapolitan pizza!  Mom said, What ever you want, dear.”

Mad also discovered English pub food.  “Runny eggs have changed my life!” she says, gleefully.  

On the home front, she’s faced a few kitchen nightmares.   The other night, she threw a baby shower for Zany and the oven crapped, out forcing her to pan fry the pork tenderloin roast as kabobs on the stovetop.   For Mad Me-Shell, necessity is always the motherhood of invention.  

Despite the bacon wrapped dates and potato and 3 cheese fritters, Mad’s eyes keep drifting towards the football game on TV.   It turns out she’s enrolled in a suicide football pool, and she’s destroying the competition.  

After another round of cocktails (“You know I’m a whiskey girl,” Mad reminds me.) it’s time for the moment of truth.  It’s time to build that burger.  

Mad gives me the stink eye and scrutinizes her menu.  I carefully consider my flavor strategy, and decide to go for a healthy dose of umami.  My signature burger is composed of ground sirloin, caramelized onion, portabella mushrooms, Applewood smoked bacon, fried egg and grand cru gruyere surchoix. Mad decides to go a bit old school and selects ground sirloin, roasted tomato, jalapeno bacon, fried egg, and smoked mozzarella.   The twin peaks are towering burger creations, and we divvy up the goods, so we can each sample.  

Without Zany as referee, we are each forced to play the dual role of competitor and judge.   Mad, dabs her mouth with a napkin, looks up from her plate and says slowly, “It pains me to admit it, T.W., but I think you may have built the better burger.”

Score one for 20 weeks of culinary school.   But it’s kind of like having Julia Child surrender to Jacques Pepin, or Bobby Flay turning the keys to the restaurant over to Giada.  It just doesn’t feel quite right.    So, rather than me take a victory lap, we decide to jointly toast ourselves with some spiked milk shakes.   

Mine is called “Salty Caramel” consisting of Maker’s Mark, butterscotch vanilla ice cream and Hawaiian red sea salt.  Commensurate with her new fondness for the cuisine of Great Britain, Mad orders a Guinness Milk Shake which features Guinness, House Made Chocolate Sauce and Vanilla Ice Cream.  

I take a sip of my milkshake and gasp a little screech of sheer delight.

“You’re welcome!” says Mad brightly.

At the risk of being uncouth, I slurp the bottom of the glass with my straw.  Several times.  Some folks at the bar turn their heads, thinking the L train is rambling by.  

As I leave Mad Me-Shell for my final destination of the evening, she is enjoying the last few drops of her Guinness Milk Shake, checking her status in the suicide football pool, and already plotting how she’ll corrupt the diet of Zany’s little one during her first gig as baby sitter.  

©2012 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved 

The Burger Babes Have It Their Way at “The Counter”

Spring may be just weeks away, but we’re getting a little cabin fever down at the old office and it’s still too cold to eat outside. Food trucks are cool, but grabbing your takeout with frigid fingers as a wicked wind roars down 52nd Street is not. I consult Zany.

TW: (sounding hungry and desolate) I’m going stir crazy. Somebody spotted me downstairs at Subway the other day and threatened to expose me on CNN. We need a new lunch adventure!

Zany: (with an efficient, “take no prisoners” tone) Call Marie Antoinette. We need a strategy session! We need flavor!! We need variety!!! We need real utensils!!!! Let’s move!!!!!

Zany is the General MacArthur of the lunch hour.

For lunchtime maneuvers, we journey out into Times Square in search of hot food, eaten indoors. Our target is The Counter just below 42nd Street, which promises fresh, 100 percent natural Angus beef hormone and antibiotic-free burgers, customized our way.

Some math genius in the promotions department has determined that there are 312,210 combinations available at The Counter. This has Marie Antoinette a bit intimidated.

“That does not bode well for the most indecisive person ever – moi!” she says without uncertainty.

Following a brisk walk through Times Square – where there may be more pigeons than people – we pause to look at the multi-media show in The Counter window, where burgers, buns and toppings multiply before our eyes. There’s something oddly captivating – and even thrilling - watching this burger constantly regenerate, but then, it is Times Square, so food porn is acceptable.

We push through the glass door and leave the cold air behind us. The warm, lip-smacking aroma of flame-broiled beef envelopes us immediately. We take a seat at the counter. There are tables, but somehow it seems appropriate to eat at the counter at The Counter. Zany notes that it’s a nice compromise between eating standing up on 52nd Street and sitting down like grown-ups. The décor is ultra modern – clean, white counters and blinding, bright lights. It’s a bit like having a cheese burger in George Jetson’s kitchen. We are lucky we arrived when we did. Within minutes, the place is jammed and there’s a line out the door.

We are each presented with clip boards and pencils and a long list of options to build our orders. Think of it as a multiple choice burger.

It’s just five steps to a better burger – meat, cheese, toppings, sauce, and bun. While we wait for our burgers, Marie Antoinette and I each indulge in a shake. Hers is Peanut Butter. Mine is an “adult” coffee shake with a shot of Kahlua. (Don’t raise your eyebrows. I’m an adult) As the shakes are delivered, Zany swipes her index finger through the dollop of whipped cream atop Marie Antoinette’s shake.

M-A is horrified. “Are your fingers clean?” she demands.

“I just walked through Times Square,” says Zany. “Of course they’re clean.”

Zany is a fried pickle chip connoisseur (it’s a genetic thing) and she approves of The Counter’s approach. The golden fried coating is hot and crispy, with cool, crunchy pickle concealed within.

Three mountainous burger platters are placed before us. Marie Antoinette scores on originality, with kind of a Switzerland-takes-Texas creation, with a brief stop at Coney Island. Her burger consists of beef on Texas Toast, Gruyere cheese, tomato, mixed greens, Applewood smoked bacon, fried onion rings and a side of horseradish mayo.

My burger is built on a foundation of Texas Toast – beef, Tillamook Cheddar, grilled onions, Applewood smoked bacon, roasted red peppers, lettuce and red relish. I try to wrestle the small tower into my mouth, but I am quickly facing an architectural disaster. I am forced to resort to knife and fork, and deflect the scorn of my comrades-in-arms.

The Zany Burger is beef on a bun, Tillbrook Cheddar, dill pickle chips, tomato, mixed greens, and Applewood Smoked Bacon. She cuts her burger in half and reveals a perfectly cooked, pink center, which she garnishes with a smear of chipotle aioli. She sighs with supreme satisfaction and takes a bite.

“This is why I woke up at 5:30 in the morning to work out,” says Zany. “Right here.”

While I would dearly love to leave you in burger bliss, I must conclude with a bit of foreshadowing. There may be lean times ahead for our little lunch platoon …

©2011 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Mr. Pink and the Dog Days of Summer

It’s the middle of July and the air quality is only slightly better than a ripe garbage dump. Summer ennui is severe, and we all have been hit with a virulent case of crankiness. It’s so hot, the buildings are sweating.

Zany and I are trapped in a terminal conference call. She mouths, “I’M STARVING!” Mad Me-Shell is desperate to pull the rip-cord for lunch. We’ve GOT to get out of this office!

It is 11:17 in the morning. “Edgy” does not begin to describe our mood. As soon as the conference call appears to be wrapping, we disconnect without pleasantries and make a break for it.

It’s about a thousand degrees outside, but Mad Me-Shell is on a mission. “Nothing like a hearty, hot meal to cool you off,” she notes cheerfully.

“You’ve been eating way too healthy,” she admonishes me. We’re bored with the food trucks, so we’re back to bricks and mortar. Mad has scoped out our options and we’re heading straight for The Side Door @ Beacon. The Beacon on 56th Street made news a few weeks earlier by offering – for a limited time only – burgers and hot dogs sold from the side door of the restaurant. The side door theme feels a little illicit and we like it. It’s pumping our appetites.

Joe and Katie are staffing The Side Door, and we couldn’t ask for nicer hosts. A few minutes with them and our crankiness evaporates. Katie even gives us a button as a souvenir.

Katie tells us the Side Door was the brainchild of Chef Waldy Malouf who specializes in open fire and wood fire cooking. We can’t decide what we want so we order everything on the menu. Lest you think us extravagant, there are only four items on the menu. We are particularly intrigued by Mr. Pink’s Double Dog, but it’s kind of a toss-up with the Wood Grilled Burger.

Joe explains that an amiable beagle named Mr. Pink was the inspiration for the Double Dog - two special grilled 100 percent beef hot dogs with parmesan, grilled onions, a Po-Boy roll and sweet pepper relish. Mr. Pink’s portrait is prominently posted on The Side Door:

After some debate, we decide to each get a Double Dog (that’s six dogs total) and one burger and a serving of Chilled Roast Tomato Salsa Soup to share. Don’t let me forget the four chocolate chip cookies.

Zany is adamant that we try the burger. She’s still pining for the Burger Truck which has been scrupulously avoiding midtown this summer.

We haul our eats about a half-block to dine at the base of a disco ball fountain on Sixth Avenue. It appears to be a pigeon-free zone, which is a plus. As the wind shifts, we get sprayed by the fountain. It’s refreshing.

“It’s like having a picnic by the ocean,” notes Zany.

First we tackle the dogs. Mad Me-Shell opens one of the wrapped dogs and cries, “Oh, Sweet Mama!”

Two dogs in one bun is like Christmas in July. The parmesan is the good stuff, the sweet pepper relish is perky and the massive dogs and grilled buns have a sensual smoky flavor. There’s a good balance of spices, and the cheese and relish imparts a nice tang.

I point out that we are – in fact – enjoying a healthy meal. “You save on carbs combining two dogs in one roll.”

“You keep telling yourself that, T.W.,” says Mad.

Beacon’s specialty drink is “Tiger Tea.” They say it’s a quart of lemonade ice tea, but it looks more like a gallon. Good when you’re dehydrated.

We share a container of chilled, roasted tomato soup to cleanse our palate between courses.

The soup is thick and chunky with a sunny color and a touch of heat. The combination of chilled soup and salsa evokes summer with a little bit of sizzle.

We have barely finished the soup when Mad Me-Shell is reaching for the burger.

“Let’s go, Mad. Carve it up,” says Zany.

It’s not easy to split a burger three ways. “Many people consider carving turkey an art,” says Zany. “Mad Me-Shell considers carving a burger as summer art.”

If it’s possible that anything could top the Double Dog, Beacon’s Famous Wood Grilled Burger does it. The charred, smoky flavor, the melted cheddar, and the cool tomatoes and pickles on a grilled onion roll rocks our world. It’s like a country campfire on a bun.

“It tastes like it was cooked in the backyard,” says Mad who is close to swooning. In fact, I think I’m going to have to peel her off the pavement.

“It’s dripping down my hand,” she practically squeals. “Always a good sign.”

Zany wants to take a vote. Which do we like better? We can’t decide. Why is she trying to force us to commit? It’s like apples and oranges. Or burgers and hot dogs. How can you pick?

“This might be the best picnic I’ve been to so far this year.” says Zany. “Now if only we could spike the Tiger Tea.”

As we leave the plaza, we pass a likable-looking man who is sitting at the edge of the fountain enjoying his lunch. Zany, who is normally the nicest person in the world sneers, “That guy’s eating a salad!”

“Sucker!” chimes in Mad Me-Shell.

They are obviously suffering from an overdose of 100 percent beef Double Dog and it’s making them aggressive.

The walk back to the office is just enough to re-invigorate our appetites, so there we break into the chocolate chip cookies. The girls agree that they have that unique combination of chewy, crisp and chocolaty.

“Do you think Mr. Pink made these?” Zany wonders out loud.

I won’t even attempt to pretend that the afternoon was productive. But, thanks to Mr. Pink we’re feeling those “good vibrations” of summer again.

©2010 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Big Apple Burger Banter – The Perfect Pint

My culinary compatriots, “Ms. Zany” and “Mad Me-Shell” are at it again. One day while I’m not paying attention they concoct a scheme to visit and rate the best burger joints in our midtown office neighborhood. I’ve been on a month-long peanut butter and fluff kick for lunch, so it sounds like a good idea to me.

Our colleague “Splint McCullough” chimes in from his secret bunker somewhere in the mid-Atlantic region. He’s in a snarky mood, probably because he’s missing all the fun, and actually tells Mad Me-Shell that he thinks I’m a “burger novice.”

I immediately ping him and take issue with his rude remark. Splint is unrepentant. “Until you’ve rolled out of bed at 2 a.m. to satisfy your burger craving, I stand by my proclamation.”

Ms. Zany has to bow out of our maiden voyage since she has her nose to the grindstone. We consider rescheduling but in the end, our hunger overpowers our better judgment and we decide to forge ahead without her, our growling stomachs drowning out her words of protest. She is not happy we’ve left her behind, and it is likely we will pay for this transgression.

For some inexplicable reason, I’m craving a lamb burger. Mad Me-Shell does her Oracle imitation and pulls up the site “Menupages” on her laptop. Within seconds, she has located every lamb burger available within a 20 block radius. Ain’t the Internet grand? We choose “The Perfect Pint Public House” as our destination, for convenience, and because the tzatziki sauce on the lamb burger sounds intriguing. The thought of visiting “The 5 Napkin Burger” on 9th Avenue does grab us for a moment of messy, delirious decadence but practicality wins out. Ninth Avenue is too far away.

On the walk down 6th Avenue, I discover that Mad Me-Shell views burgers as a “functional food.”

“I do it for medicinal reasons, not because I like burgers so much,” she explains in pragmatic terms. “I have an iron deficiency.”

For just a moment, I wonder if this lunch might be covered under our employee health plan.

The Perfect Pint Public House is located at 123 W. 45th Street, and resembles a traditional pub. There is a mammoth pint of ale hanging above the front door. I’m a sucker for any establishment with a big goofy sign out front, so I’m getting good vibes already.

Inside, we take our seats in the upstairs dining room and establish our game plan. It is a clean-cut, well-groomed midtown crowd, and the staff has nice lilting Irish accents. The décor is spotless and comfortable – kind of a cross between a well-lit fern bar and a fine dining establishment. The room is decked out in green shamrocks in anticipation of St. Patty’s Day.

We place our orders. Mad Me-Shell thinks we should do a bit of sampling to experience the traditional and the adventurous. In addition to the The Incredible Lamb Burger, laced with fresh herbs and spices, pepper jack cheese and tzatziki sauce, we order The Perfect Pint Burger, a half pound of certified angus beef topped with white cheddar and apple smoked bacon. She’s also an advocate of cutting burgers in half, something she’s dubbed “the double-handed move.” Besides the obvious benefits of sharing, “It’s easier to eat, and it allows you to see how well-done the meat is so you can judge how juicy it’s going to be before you eat it.”

I get the sense I’m in the presence of a pro, so I probe further on Mad Me-Shell’s culinary views. “I would say my overall philosophy is pretty classic," she explains. "I do like to try new things, but I do enjoy a little Southern or redneck twist on things. That’s where my heavy use of bourbon, whisky and deer meat comes in handy.”

So, she’s a health nut, and a connoisseur.

We develop an iron-clad rating system on the fly. No sense putting too much energy into it. We’d rather reserve that for eating the burgers. We agree to rate the establishment on five key factors: Speed, Presentation, Originality, Flavor, and Afternoon Nap Quotient. Each will be scored 1 to 4, with a rating of 4 inspiring the ultimate in “Burger Banter.”

Meanwhile, Mad Me-Shell’s inner Iron Chef Judge is beginning to emerge. “A burger has to have the right blend of meat,” she announces. “I like to make sure, obviously, it is fresh meat, good flavoring, and cooked-well. It has to have a good meat-to-bun ratio and the toppings on it have to compliment the meat, not overpower it.”

Our food quickly arrives, beautifully plated on large rectangular white trays, each tucked within glossy buns and paired with a gorgeous stack of fries, so the Perfect Pint immediately gets high marks for Speed and Presentation.

We take a moment to admire the spread.

“I like that they paired the Lamb Burger with the tzatziki sauce,” says Mad Me-Shell. “I think it is going to be a fairly traditional pairing. I’ve got good thoughts about it.”

“Incredible” is a pretty apt description. The Lamb Burger is a towering source of iron, with lively seasonings infused throughout the meat.

“It’s incredibly flavorful and really lean,” says Mad Me-Shell. “It does have a real kick in it. Complex flavors for a burger. Given our rating system, I’m going to definitely give this one a four. It’s unique and it really punches the taste buds.”

Mad Me-Shell is struggling a bit with the architectural integrity of the Perfect Pint Burger. “It seems to be staying together well, despite the size,” she says “It’s really juicy and flavorful, I would say the only problem right now, is there’s so much bacon, it increases the size and it’s making it a little difficult to eat even two handed, so it’s gonna be a challenge. The bacon is phenomenal. It’s perfectly-cooked, really rich and smoky.” Our overall Big Apple Burger Banter results for The Perfect Pint: Speed – 4, Presentation – 3, Originality – 4, Flavor – 4, Afternoon Nap Quotient – 3.5. Total Score: 3.7

By about 3:00 p.m., the Afternoon Nap Quotient has now become dominant and we are forced to ratchet up our total score for The Perfect Pint.

Zany has already put another burger excursion on our calendar. After all, we have a public service to perform, and Mad Me-Shell needs to keep up her strength.

©2009 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved