Serious faux pas at Let’s Burger

I have yet another chance to revisit Let’s Burger, the burger joint inside The Village at Sanlitun. The food was, as I expected, quite good — I had an order of its crispy fries and a grilled chicken salad — the latter I actually found to be quite fantastic. The smoky grilled chicken was augmented with what I believe to be a welcoming honey glaze, and was roughly cut and served over a bed of beautiful greens. The greens were fresh and tossed with just the right amount of sweet Russian dressing. At less than forty yuan, it was a steal.

Food experience aside, I witnessed two horrifying incidents inside the open kitchen that would likely kill any desire to go back. I sat at the Robuchon-like dining bar, which had a full and uninhibited view of the kitchen area; I was sat directly opposite the washing station. This area was between a bun toasting station and the pantry, where coffee was brewed and wines poured. This was also the area where I witnessed both faux pas of the evening. The person responsible for toasting all the hamburger buns was standing on the opposite side of the dining bar, just half a meter to my left. He was very good at his job — he would diligently take out the buns from the plastic wrapper (four buns in a wrapper), meticulously place the buns in their upright positions and carefully slice open the buns, and feed the bun into the conveyor-belt toaster. And that was all that he needed to do all night: slice the buns, place them onto toaster, and hand off the toasted bun to the hamburger dresser. He was so good at his routine that each repetition was nearly identical to the last, so mechanical and perfectly executed as to leave no room for error or criticism. That was the case until, of course, when disaster struck: when he was opening one of the plastic wrappers, some mysterious force was exerted out of nowhere, in such a disastrous direction that one of the buns, instead of staying inside the wrapper or on the cutting table, decided to roll over and into the washing liquid in the sink, at the washing station nearby. It was obvious that he was verily horrified by the unscripted event, but with no time for second thoughts whatsoever, he picked up the bun from the sink and placed it right back on the slicing table. I couldn’t tell if it was contaminated with detergent, but by then its top was visibly wet, as evidenced by the wet gloss on top of that naughty bun, as juxtaposed against the three others from the same wrapper that had no such wet gloss. Just as I was hoping that he would give a second thought and decide to throw the bun away, he picked up his knife, and after slicing open the bun, quickly put the bun into the toaster. With the disaster seemingly evaporating into thin air (and the fouled wetness toasting away) and truth that only he and I would know, he briefly looked up, and most certainly had to find my bewildered eyes fixated on his! He looked away, as if nothing happened, and less a minute later, the bun that had earlier found itself touching the washing liquid in the sink was getting bused to the diner at the other side of the restaurant.

Another incident happened a few minutes later, when a tournant was cutting carrots right in front of me. He was also very good at his job…holding and using the knife properly, and making mechanical cuts so precise that, had anyone seen the final result without looking at the process, would have concluded that it was the work of an industrial mandoline. But human mandolines made mistakes: a piece of carrot would eventually fall onto the ground. Like any other diner, I hoped that he would pick up and throw away that fallen piece of vegetable –which he did. Like any other diner, I was also hoping that he would then go about to wash his hands before going back to his station to work on his vegetables –and horrors! his hands were, merely seconds after touching the floor and with no side trip to the tap, now fiddling with other pieces of vegetables. What would happen if those vegetables were not slated for cooking at all but were tossed in a salad?

After these two incidents I could bear to see no more. I promptly finished my meal and left. I am sure many kitchens are like that (I have, to be quite honest, witnessed a few), but this is the first time that I have seen a serious kitchen offense (two, no less) played out, without redress, in an open kitchen. When the proprietor decides to open the kitchen, the reason has to be simple: to key the diners in for a show. It’s supposed to be a window to a scripted fairy tale, and not supposed to be a window to the reality of commercial cooking. As a gut check, we all know that live shows would, from time to time, find themselves in an unscripted situation, but any reasonably good director would have a scripted solution to an unscripted situation — how about: (a) throw away any dirty food, and (b) wash hands after having touched, or even the remote possibility of being perceived to have touched, something dirty? I am prepared to see the dark side if I demand to walk into a closeted kitchen, but I am not prepared to see what I don’t want to see if the open kitchen is there for all to see. And when disaster happens, the staff should well know how to go to Plan B. But there was no Plan B; there was only Plan A. Let’s Burger still has good food, especially its crispy fries, an outstanding selection of potato dips, a juicy cheeseburger to die for and an excellent grilled chicken salad I mentioned earlier in this post. But for all its greatness, the massive offenses that I witnessed first hand would give me serious second thoughts before I dare to ever venture inside again.

Table 1280

I haven’t given much thought on museum dining, but after having recently checked out Table 1280 at the High Museum of Art in Atlanta, Georgia, I have found a renewed interest on this sub-genre. Table 1280 serves up elegant, contemporary American cuisine in a hip, contemporary setting. Designed by Renzo Piano, the restaurant has comfortable seating, plenty of sunlight cozying up the interior space through ceiling-to-floor windows, and a precision-meets-elegance aura that fits snugly inside the Richard Meier-designed Museum.

1280 Burger, with Grafton Cheddar, bacon, and steak fries, at Table 1280.

The burger came perfectly cooked to my requirements and laid out in the same sort of geometric elegance that befalls Meier’s architecture. Sitting right by the ultra-wide windows, I had an unobstructed view of the High’s interior courtyard, and could feel the nurturing, warm hands of the late-autumn sun. My seat was so comfortable that I almost forgot I had a couple of important exhibits to catch (treasures from not only the Louvre but also the V&A).

Due to a tight traveling schedule, I wasn’t able to check out Table 1280’s elegant bar, which seems to offer an impressive wine list and a hideout for spending time with friends. Nevertheless, I was verily impressed by its delicious food, comfortable environment, and the way in which Piano’s inrerior blends perfectly with Meier’s exteriors. For any one of those reasons above, I would readily recommend Table 1280. But for all of those reasons, I would even rank Table 1280 on par with some of the great museum dining establishments I’ve come to love: Seventeen Seventeen, the superior restaurant inside the Dallas Museum of Art; the easy-going Pentimento at the LACMA in Los Angeles; the jaw-droppingly pompous but undeniably impressive The Modern at New York’s MOMA; and amazingly hard-to-book but cozy Map Cafe inside the Museum of pre-Colombian Art in Cusco, Peru. Perhaps I’ll do a post on these restaurants one day.

Burgers in Korea

As I research more about burgers, I found this awesome post on burgers in Korea by Daniel Gray, the man behind Seoul Eats, a great blog for chowhounds in search for a good plate in Korea. Don’t miss the post and the blog!

In search of the best burger in Beijing

A mundane burger often reminds me of those years when I lived in America, when I often had to subsist on mass-produced burgers that I’d imagine tasted like dirty socks soaked in sewage-diluted ketchup. A great burger, however, reminds me of the good times I’ve had, mainly in two places: Texas, and California. Texas’ burgers are memorable because the beef is always fresh and flavorful, and often charcoal-grilled with cracking mesquite wood that gives an additional layer of sweetness. Californian burgers are great because they dare to be inventive: new ingredients (e.g. organic greens), new sauces (e.g. sweet aioli, jalapeño-flavored salsa), and new ways of ordering (e.g. secret menu, at In-N-Out).

The Mission

Burger is not something that pops into my mind when I talk about my foodie experience in Beijing. While many Beijing hotels have coffee shops that can offer a decent burger, albeit at exorbitant prices, I have yet to find, until now, a burger joint that I could confidently recommend to others. Hooters, Durty Nellie’s and Paddy O’Shea’s serve up good burgers as pub grubs, but I recommend those places with reasons that are far more important than, say, to get a half-decent burger. Therefore, I decided to undertake a mission to find the best burger, as I know it, in a town better known for roast ducks wrapped with steamed pancakes than beef patty on a bun — with one additional requirement: that any restaurant’s burger must be the #1 reason why I, or anyone to whom I pass on my recommendation, would want to go to that restaurant. Therefore, places like Durty Nellie’s and Outback Steakhouse won’t count. With some input from some well-fed Beijingers, I tried out twelve burger joints in a little under five weeks, and came up with four good recommendations, below.

The Taste Test

Tim’s Texas BBQ (Guanghua Road)

Tim’s offers an all-American Border burger laden with bacon, cheese, jalapeños. The beef patty was supremely grilled with a dense, robust flavor. The bacon had a nice, smoky nose and a chewy texture. The winning ingredient was the pungent jalapeños, which nicely cut into the excess fat of the beef and the bacon and provided that extra zing. Tim’s also serves up a superb chopped beef brisket sandwich, which by itself is worthy of a separate visit (or, if self-indulgence shall be forgiven, of a same-visit, side-by-side burger-sandwich face/off).

Exploit: one Border burger, one frozen margarita: ￥80.

One East on Third (Hilton Hotel Beijing)

With foie gras, black truffles and Waygu beef, the Waygu burger oozed more pomp and circumstance than cheeses and mushroom juices. It was tough for me not to feel a little pugnacious after shelling out ￥325 just so that I got to feel like an aristocratic jackass for half an hour. Nevertheless, I have to admit that, strictly in terms of taste, the burger was actually more than just a garbled pile of dollar signs; I would freely admit that it was not too far away from the majestic double truffle burger royale that I had at Daniel Boulud’s joint in New York two years ago.

Exploit: one Waygu burger, one glass of Californian red wine, one expresso: ￥420.

Let’s Burger (The Village at Sanlitun)

This is a straight-up, burger-only joint that serves up some juicy patties in a bistro environment. My order: an Australian double burger with six ounces (by my estimate) of ground sirloin. The Australian was amply dressed with lettuce, tomatoes, two fat slices of bacon, and a fried egg. I felt like my life was ticking away as the burger was being devoured. The only thing that kept me from putting the burger down and calling it quits was the devil in me, reminding me that if my blood vessels were to clot and if I were to drop dead on the spot, I would still die a very, very happy man. On my first visit, the patties were a little disappointing because they were overcooked, bland, and devoid of beefy flavors, but on my second visit (revisiting the exact same order), the patties came to life with all the beefy aromatics and succulent juices. The fries were hand-cut and well-fried, with a crunchy shell and a soft, starchy body. A winning feature at this joint was the impressive array of dipping sauces (over ten of them!), including two that I would recommend in a heartbeat (if I still have one): a creamy remoulade and a flavorful wasabi mayonnaise.

Twice exploited: The Australian, one order of hand-cut fries, one glass of house red: ￥150 per exploit.

25 Degrees (Hotel G)

Named after the temperature (in Celsius) between a raw and a well-done burger,  25 Degrees provides the diner an art-meets-science flavor to the burger experience. One can design and build one’s own burger with dozens of a la carte toppings to choose from, or pick from three excellent preset choices. My choice on my first visit (preset #1) was a ground-sirloin burger dressed with carmelized onions, arugula salad, thousand island dressing and a wedge of Gorgonzola cheese –this combination reminds me of Father’s Office burger in Santa Monica, California, which has a nearly verbatim rendition, except the bun: Father’s Office uses a fluffy and long French baguette, while 25 Degrees uses a round, wheat/rye bun. This resemblance of taste, however, is not entirely accidental, as 25 Degrees is an aspiring burger concept originated in Los Angeles, a stone’s throw away from Father’s Office. In any case, 25 Degrees’ burger was a protein-carb-veg juggernaut with a good balance of flavor (juicily beefy but not oily), taste (the Gorgonzola danced merrily with the caramelized onion), and texture (the crispiness of the arugula salad jazzed perfectly with the softness of the onions and the chewiness of the beef). Like the original joint in Hollywood, the lettuces, tomatoes and sliced pickles were served on the side and readily available for the truly ambitious table-side burger engineers. The French fries were generously sprinkled with sea salt and thyme, and arrived at the table crispy and piping hot.

I got to build my own burger on my second visit: one identical to preset #1 except that I chose Gruyère over Gorgonzola. The result was equally impressive, and the taste was not materially discernible from the original in Hollywood. I mean, why mess with the battle-tested recipe when the original is already working brilliantly well? I also got to check out the wine list, which in my opinion was slightly excessive (in price) for a burger joint but nevertheless impressive given its geographical and varietal depth.

Twice exploited: one preset #1: ￥175; one build-my-own burger, one half-bottle of red wine (shared with two other friends): ￥180.

Conclusion

25 Degrees. Taste notwithstanding, 25 Degrees wins the ambiance test too. It has a hip but unassuming decor, and superior music. By contrast, the bistro-style dining and Henry Mancini-esque music at Let’s Burger are just a tad too formal. With a knowledgeable staff and attentive service, 25 Degrees also has the best service among the final four.

With pac’s Strictly 4 My N.I.G.G.A.Z. album playing in the background, my mind drifted, momentarily, back to the yesteryear when, after a burger at the original 25 Degrees, I would drive on Hollywood Blvd., with my windows rolled down, Cali. rap music blaring from the Cadillac in front and multiple Louboutin clogs clicking away on the sidewalk. That reconnection to the past, attentive but unobtrusive service, and plain ol’ good food are the reasons why 25 Degrees has my vote for the best burger in Beijing.