This year, I had a burger that was so good it made me cry. No joke. The greatest burger of my life so far. I was sitting at the bar in Palace Kitchen in Seattle, thoroughly enjoying my palace burger royale (with cheddar), when tears welled in my eyes. My theory is that I was simply having an emotional reaction to something that was overwhelmingly good, like you might on your wedding day, when you get your dream job, or when your child is born. The universe just clicked for me in that place. Meat sizzled over the roaring applewood fire grill. Frothy beer sluiced into frosty glasses. I know that if I ever go back, it probably won’t be the same. Makes that memory all the more special to me.
In NYC, there are plenty of options for extremely good (though perhaps not universe-clicking) burgers. At the top of my list is Burger Joint at the Parker Meridien hotel. The burgers are compact, cooked perfectly, and bursting with flavor. Fries are terrific there, too. Then there’s Brooklyn Diner’s cheeseburger deluxe, which is broken down in the menu as “custom ground beef, Vermont cheddar cheese, smokehouse bacon, and frizzled onion rings.” Mmm. A stunning and juicy burger and the only reason I’ll ever break my no-theme-restaurants oath. Like any proper foodie, I tried the burger with Roquefort cheese at The Spotted Pig gastropub. Found it truly disappointing (no gasps, please, SP poseurs). The patty was perfectly pink and juicy… and utterly without flavor. The only thing I remember tasting was a mound of melty Roquefort. That’s right, a mound of melty Roquefort. A mound of melty Roquefort.
