The Standing Room.

If you find yourself to be among those individuals who have never wandered into a beach adjacent liquor store and ordered a mind bogglingly delicious Korean-fusion western bacon cheeseburger that you were made to eat in the parking lot (don’t be shy, I was among you until very recently), you do not have to remain in this group any longer, should you desire to make the change. All you have to do is head to Redondo Beach, to The Standing Room; perhaps the most aptly named restaurant of all time.

Korean Fusion food is my jam. If you happen to not remember my espousing my very real man-crush on Kogi Godfather Roy Choi, allow me to share with you the fact that my next culinary goal is to build my own menu of Korean inspired Soul Food dishes, just to have in my catalog when entertaining guests at home. Korean BBQ is my favorite restaurant genre of all time. So when I showed up at The Standing Room without knowing that Korean flavors in the contexts of burgers and sandwiches was their shtick, you can imagine my stokedness upon this discovery.  Unfortunately I went alone, so I did not get a chance to taste more than one burger (they all have 8oz patties, I just couldn’t do two), but the one I got made me totally sure that I will return.

As The Standing Room, like many others, does not have a signature burger, I just asked what their top sellers are and chose what sounded the most interesting. The “Cash” according to the menu comes dressed in: bacon, hoisin BBQ, shishito peppers, crispy pepper onion, and cheddar- and is their version of the bacon western cheeseburger. Now I didn’t grab a to-go menu, and my phone ate my notes, but I swear mine also had American cheese and “Korean aioli” which looked and tasted like Siracha mayo but it wasn’t spicy at all somehow. Rich and messy, in 2 words, but boy was it great. The patty was pretty well seasoned but that got a little lost under the salt of the bacon and that gigantic magical onion ring. I would bet good money that the batter they make those onion rings out of starts with chili cheese Fritos in a food processor. If not, that is EXACTLY what they taste like, and in the best possible way. The bacon was chunks rather than strips, held in place by lots of melted cheddar and American. The shishitos were hardly cooked at all and maintained a freshness and texture that really stood out. Non-spicy Siracha aioli can go on everything I ever eat as soon as someone besides these guys figures out how to make it, and that sweet hoisin BBQ sauce very well may be my new favorite condiment.  Pretty much the only catch is- it’s a liquor store, and you eat in the parking lot- so there is nowhere to wash those sticky fingers once you’re all done.

Redondo Beach is virtually uncharted territory to me other than my most recent burger adventure, which would have never happened had I not stumbled across a gorgeous photo of the Standing Room’s wares while perusing for burger porn on Instagram. (Follow us if you don’t, by the way). I wouldn’t make much of an ambassador to the area, but I can say with much confidence, if you need to grab a bottle of liquor and lunch, there is only one place you should be considering.

-Geoff Sawyer

Rustic Canyon

Nestled between a fancy antique car dealership and a medical building, Rustic Canyon manages to be cozy despite being placed on the extremely busy Wilshire Blvd in Santa Monica.  Once inside you have two options: lie and say you have a reservation to get into the main dining room or snuggle up to the bartender and order from a stool in the lounge. If you’re like me and betting on the fact you bother reading this blog I’m guessing you are, you are never dressed for a chic restaurant in Santa Monica.  Dressing up to eat a burger and fries just seems ludicrous.

Perched on a bar stool next to a wall of tastefully placed candles, I got asked whether I preferred complimentary still or sparkling water, which immediately tipped me off that this was going to be expensive. Asking for tap water, I perused the menu and was horrified to discover the burger wasn’t on it.  Was this some kind of joke? All I had ever heard about this place was how wonderful their burger was. I knew they had gotten a new chef, but this was ridiculous. Why on earth would you bench your star player? It was like if the Heat showed up to a playoff game with Lebron James in a suit, not because he was injured, but because he didn’t feel like playing.  Indignant I asked the waiter if the burger was still available and he gave me a long pained look, “Yes, it is. It’s just not on the menu.” The poor thing must have been answering this question all week.  So it’s still there, it’s just become a secret.

When the burger arrived, I saw why people had been upset. It was magnificent. Glistening upon a brioche bun was a huge 80/20 Niman Ranch beef patty covered in sharp cheddar cheese, a five onion fondue (leek, Bermuda, Spanish, spring, and brown), housemade bread and butter pickles and creamy homemade herb remoulade with a side of golden hand cut French fries.  It is a slippery beast. The thing requires two hands and all of your concentration.

Now, I didn’t spring for the extra fried egg and bacon that you can order on top. Why? Because I’m too cheap.  At $18 I think a burger is pricey enough. (Honestly dudes, you don’t need five kinds of onion. One would be fine.) The extras jack the price up to a whopping $25, which is absolutely crazy.  After the first couple bites, I knew I had made a good decision. The burger is incredibly rich.  Fingers dripping with greasy and remoulade, I could barely finish half of it before calling it quits. My eyelids drooped and it took all of my willpower not to curl up on the sticky floor for a quick nap.  It was like a meat sleeping pill.

If you find yourself in Santa Monica, this is a perfect burger to share. If you’re going with a buddy, hole up in the bar, split the burger, and spend the money you would have spent on the fried egg and bacon on a beer. Trust me. Half a burger is enough. Or if you’ve acquired a sugar daddy/mama this is a great place to have them prove just how much they love you. Nothing says love like a $25 burger. Although why stop there? Take them to the antique car shop next door and have them buy you a ride.

The Pie Hole

Before beginning I should admit bias, I love this place.  The Pie Hole is one of the shining lights of baking in Los Angeles, a city that is so anti-carb and gluten-free that it makes me want to cry. Through the power of their handmade buttery crusts alone, this place makes LA a better place to live. However, it is their combination of old fashioned filling classics from apple to banana cream to more adventurous Mexican hot chocolate and Earl Grey tea is what makes me want to tattoo their shop sign on my right buttock.

So when I heard that they had created a cheeseburger pie, I freaked out.  That golden crust wrapped around a burger? I couldn’t get down there fast enough.  Tucked away in the Arts District, the tiny shop is bare bones, but glows with warmth.  Wooden tables and aluminum chairs line the dining room, a glass display case with white ceramic plates displaying the specials, and the menu is written in brown butcher paper on the walls.  They serve only pie and coffee, nothing else, which is fine by me.  It’s always humming with customers doing work or getting dessert after a fancy meal elsewhere.

The cheeseburger pie turns out to be visually unlovely.  It’s a brown Cornish pasty sized half moon of pastry with fillings of mysterious origins, with a side of salsa. Why the salsa is included is beyond me.  But bite into it, and all the flavors of a cheeseburger show up in hot tempting glory: ground beef, cheddar cheese, onion, and a little bit of pickle. It is incredibly satisfying. The one gripe I had was the addition of the salsa side.  Why? Ketchup or mustard would have been much more appropriate. Also there were no gooey strands of cheese that poured forth, which I had looked forward to wiping from my chin. So, stuff that thing with fromage and douse it in ketchup and I would have been one happy camper.

Bear in mind, the cheeseburger pie is not a meal. It’s much too small, but fear not. You can save all of that room that you would have spent on a burger to indulge yourself on one of their massive slices of pie. I chose Earl Grey cream and was not disappointed. Who knew that Earl Grey would lend itself so well to pudding? The delicate tea flavor combined with the layer of salty chocolate on the bottom really made it stand out.  So if you’ve had a rough week, I would pop over and get a slice of something warm and filling. Also, their cheeseburger pie is a special, so if you want to try it for yourself, you will need to get over there soon.

Eden Burger Bar.

This week’s review is purely the product of social media. Powerful stuff, that hand held internet. These guys followed our Instagram, and after seeing a few gorgeous photos of my favorite food (and never otherwise hearing of Eden Burger Bar in my life) I had all the evidence I needed to justify a meal with them. Subsequently, they will definitely join my list of pleasant finds.

On Verdugo Road, just south of the 134 overpass, there is a very unassuming (and generally pretty busted) little strip mall, featuring the usual fare for the area: a tobacco shop, a liquor store, a cheap Chinese restaurant, a nail salon, a dentist, etc. and none of these businesses really look like anywhere you’d be thrilled to go. However, a lone island of building in the parking lot bears secrets worth discovering. Eden Burger Bar is not significantly more impressive than its neighbors from the outside, but the inside is an entirely different story. The interior design looks like a bottle service Night Club owned by the Tao Group more than a hamburger restaurant. You probably wouldn’t bat an eye if you to walked into this establishment on the Vegas Strip, but being in a totally unimpressive pocket of Glendale makes it almost seem like a  film set that you can enter and order a hamburger, and a delicious hamburger at that.

Since Eden doesn’t have a namesake on the menu which is always my move when I know nothing about a place- I just got the first thing that looked intriguing, which happened to be the very first thing I saw. The “Firehouse” is described as: 35 day dry aged 8oz. beef patty, house spicy bacon, habanero jack cheese, giardiniera (which I had never heard of by name but have eaten over and over; it’s pickled jalapenos, carrots and cauliflower), tomato, and avocado mayonnaise, on a brioche. The whole time I was eating it, all I could think about was “Umami on steroids.” The burgers at Eden are probably 30% larger than at Umami, the same price, and though the menus of these 2 restaurants share virtually no parallels in terms of burger topping combinations, the grind and bread are strikingly similar in both cases, and neither are short on originality. The Firehouse patty could have been a little more seasoned, but otherwise there is not a thing I would change. It’s spicy but nowhere close to overwhelming as long as you like spicy food, while being just cheesy enough, just messy enough, and cooked perfectly rare. The bread is chewy, the aioli is mild, the bacon is thick, salty and cooked dark, the tomato gets lost but is probably helping cool your tongue off and not getting credit for role it plays, and before you know it, the burger is gone and you’re stuffed. Mine was accompanied by truffle fries, which, size, shape, and texture-wise are also very similar to Umami, though rather than cheese on them there is a healthy toss of parsley and truffle oil.  A delightful meal over all, and delivered by a very cheery bartender.

I am already looking forward to my next visit to Eden. The rest of the specialty burger menu looks swell (they have 10) a few of which feature exotic meats. I have never tried boar or duck in burger form, and Eden Bar offers both. The more innovative beef options include the “Rehab” which boasts spicy bacon, swiss cheese, sweet potato/sausage hash, maple-mustard/mayo, and a fried egg (a hangover cure if I’ve ever seen one) and the “Fig” which is dressed in fresh figs, lemon basil aioli, smoked gouda, sundried tomato, crispy prosciutto, and fig & olive tapenade. You can build your own as well, if you prefer a more traditional presentation, and their beer and wine selections are surprisingly comprehensive. So hats off to Instagram, for leading me to burger salvation. The food is sinful, but my guess is you’re going to eat it anyway. I certainly plan to.

-Geoff Sawyer

This is 15 feet wide and it sparkles.

The Morrison.

Let’s talk about show-offs; specifically those who strive to appear sophisticated. Generally, dedicating excessive effort to anything for the purpose of appearing as impressive as possible is misguided if not wasted entirely. I’m talking about people who name drop their favorite philosophers’ theses in otherwise modest conversation not because they actually have their heads around why Slavoj Žižek’s papers on false concsiosness are the most brilliant shit ever (for example), but because they know that you’ll act like you know what that means and google it when you get home. I know I have. Forced intellectualism when paired with a distaste for simple (awesome) things is exponentially worse. People who universally  turn their noses up at things like bowling, dumb funny movies, and crummy domestic beer at a profissional sporting event about which you actually care very little, tend to get the same smug “cool, bro”-themed reaction from me. Taking pride in your passion is one thing, but fancy for fancy’s sake is another, and it usually sucks. Usually. I am not sure who developed the recipe for the burger at the recently opened Los Feliz Scottish pub The Morrison, but that individual is most assuredly a show-off, and contrary to where the last several sentences seemed to be leading, one who deserves every praise soaked word of syrupy flattery that I am about to spew.

That busted little sushi place on Los Feliz blvd. just East of the L.A. River finally shut down. I never ate there, nor had I ever heard anyone speak of it. What replaced it however, immediately bore allure. Several friends made mention of the new phoenix of a Gastropub, risen from the sushi slums ashes before the paint dried it seemed. It still took me a few months to get there, mainly because no one managed to note that this new neighborhood watering hole had a burger. My suffered lag in discovering this place is of no consequence. What matters is this: I know about it, and now you will too.

The Morrison is fancy, and it’s no accident. The menu features Scottish themed cuisine and from what I am told some of it is pretty legit, though I wouldn’t claim to be able to grade the authenticity of Highland inspired dishes. They have a specialty cocktail menu that I did not fully explore but the apple wood smoked apple bourbon is definitely worth a go, which is not something I often say about an eleven dollar drink. The smoked salmon and scotch egg appetizers are good too: the first being huge sashimi sized hunks of house smoked salmon on grilled rye corners, and the latter a runny egg deep fried inside a sheath of lightly breaded venison sausage. Neither would have me writing home, though both are recommended. The burger however, has got me writing right now.

The Fillet Mignon Burger at The Morrison is called that because (care to guess?) it has a steak on it. Predictably, this instantly flipped my skepticism switch on. Allow me to build this thing for you, from the bottom up: English Muffin, celeriac remoulade, ground sirloin patty, port salut cheese, a fucking steak, and marrow butter. Now allow me to elaborate on some of these ingredients in case they don’t sound snobby enough. Celeriac remoulade is a thin caper (and possibly anchovy) aioli with coarsely chopped celery root, which ended up being best described as sloppy, salty, cole slaw. Port Salut is very similar to muenster cheese but with a higher fat content so it’s extra creamy, and marrow butter is literally soft butter with roasted bone marrow folded in, because plain butter just isn’t rich enough (obviously). This burger’s description is the kind that makes me say “cool bro” and assume that their goal is more to create something impressive to discuss than delicious to eat. Well I sincerely hope that this is the only time I have ever been so completely wrong about anything. This burger is stunning. The distinctly different flavor and texture of the fillet vs. the patty was far more discernable than I expected, and the other 3 components add a TON of richness without any strong or competitive flavor, so you really taste the quality of the meat. The caper in the remoulade must come from the juice, you don’t see them in the “slaw” but the distinct flavor is in there and nearly the only thing offering any sharpness at all. Every other component is mild and as rich as can be. A side of heirloom pickles, which were also spectacular, perfectly contrasted the soft round flavors of the burger with cold crunch and acid. Butter and remoulade will run down your arm, so don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ll look good eating this burger, but rest assured you will not care. Also, it’s small compared to what L.A. restaurants have trained us to expect, which works out perfectly because if it were significantly larger it would be overwhelming. When I say it’s rich, we’re talking RICH. I’ve never had anything quite like this burger, and I went back 2 days later to eat it again just to make sure that I hadn’t gotten lucky the first time.

Apparently sometimes fanciness is genuine. The Morrison definitely gets my full cosign, and while this burger is probably not something you’re going to be craving once a week till the end of time, if you have a taste for well-executed, quality, non-traditional and RICH, then you have really got to experience the fillet mignon burger from this place.

-Geoff Sawyer

Check out the puddle of marrow butter on my plate.

Comme Ca

Photo by Tony C.

I’m gonna try and write this, but man oh man friends it’s been a hard week. As we speak there’s a full on manhunt in the city of Boston for a Chechen man who may or may not have set the bombs at the Boston marathon. His brother was shot last night. There were explosives being thrown out of vehicles, a shootout, and their relatives have been on the radio all morning denouncing their nephews.  A cop at MIT was shot and killed.  Young men who had nothing to do with the bombings have been targeted because of irresponsible reporting and Reddit. My cousins are under lockdown in their apartments. All of this has happened in less than 24 hours. It’s a lot to process.  I probably should have written this review last week when my heart was not sick with worry. But I didn’t.  So bear with me.

In Los Angeles, the police have been blowing up every suspicious package in sight. CicLAvia is going forward as planned on Sunday as is Coachella, but everyone is on edge. Seems like a good a time as any to talk about burgers because after this week we ALL need one. (With fries, extra cheese, bacon, and a spiked chocolate malt.)

Last week I headed to Comme Ca, a fancy French brasserie in West Hollywood. I knew this was going to be one of the big ones.  It’s a burger that is named dropped in most of the discussions I have with strangers about my favorite burger. It usually goes like this, “Yes, but have you tried the Comme Ca burger? OH you HAVEN’T?” *purses lips* “I see…” It’s one of those burgers that completely destroys your burger Los Angeles aficionado status when people find out you haven’t had it.

Comme Ca is one of those odd places that are supposed to make you feel at home and fails to do so. They have lovely wooden floors, chalkboard walls with specials written on them, framed French themed sketches on the walls, exceptionally handsome waiters in pressed Ben Sherman checked shirts, low lighting, and white tablecloths. It’s supposed to feel like a bistro in Paris, but ends up feeling overdone. It’s a little too exact. It reminds me of a brand pair of jeans that you put on for the first time. It’s a wonderful color and fits you well, but still smells foreign and is a bit stiff.  It hasn’t formed to your body yet.  That’s how Comme Ca feels, not lived in yet.

The menu had a variety of gorgeous things from house cured salmon gravlax to roasted beef marrow and oxtail jam with toast, but I was there on a mission. Their burger has its own little section on the menu with a cow next to it (in case you were confused about what was in it?) It’s listed as a special blend of certified Angus beef, Vermont cheddar, and pomme frites. When it arrives however, the first thing you’ll notice about it is the giant scoop of coleslaw on top of it. Why it’s not mentioned in the description is beyond me. It’s like describing Charlie Chaplin without mentioning his mustache. It’s right there, people.  It is a wonderful sloppy mess.  The creamy coleslaw has a satisfying crunch that counters the juicy beef patty draped in cheese in the middle. It’s very hard to hold on to.

But is it worth its fame? No. Why? Because it’s eighteen freaking dollars.  That’s right. Eighteen.  A burger that costs that much should throw you into ecstasies.  After consuming such a burger, you should be weeping with joy. It should make you feel that if you keeled over and expired afterwards, you could die happy. The Comme Ca burger is a very good burger, but the price is absolutely unreasonable.  I don’t care how “special” their Angus beef blend is. At the end of the day it’s just a burger.

 

 

Father’s Office.

Once upon a time I moved to L.A. Thanks do a dear friend, client, and maker of fine rap music, I was immediately made aware of the innumerable amazing places in this wonderful town where one might shift his or her stomach level from E to F. Within a very short window of time I also learned of the fact that Los Angeles is arguably Mecca to burger-heads such as myself, which lead to my frequent asking of any and everyone (which has yet to dissipate) “so what’s your favorite burger in L.A.?” A few answers came up far more than any others: Umami (of course), The Oinkster, Apple Pan, and this week’s burger maker: Father’s Office.

I excitedly made my way to the Culver City location immediately after hearing about it, and only shortly after calling Southern California home. At the time, Father’s Office was perhaps the most talked about burger of which I was aware, though to be fair, the burger quest on which I currently find myself had not yet begun. Rather than recount the entire experience I will distil to one point: the staff was SO rude, I hardly remember anything about the food. I have not been spoken to by a hostess that way in my life, before or since. I left completely disappointed and did not return for over 3 years.

Over the course of those 3 years, I really dug into this city and its burgers, and while the journey thus far did not suffer for a lack of Father’s Office, I did continue to encounter people who cited it as their all-time favorite. The masses had spoken, so a return trip, this time to the original Santa Monica location, had to be made.

Upon entering this quaint, nostalgic taproom, a bubbly young man offered to show me to a seat. His cheer and desire to please instantly bagged the other place. There was no way it was going to be as shitty this time. I found a seat at the crowded little bar and ordered my burger and fries (each are offered a la carte). They have a rather impressive draught beer selection as well that I would have loved to show you and I might have even ordered one, had the bartender not reprimanded me for attempting to take a photo of the taps. “House rule” he said. Apparently the fear is that someone will plagiarize their beer list. He was relatively polite considering his role at that moment in our interaction though. So far so good, kind of.

Shoestring fries and ambiguously herby mystery aioli.

My burger came quickly, and I may be grading on a slight curve because I was STARVING. According to the menu, which I inspected closely only after I ate, the Father’s Office burger comes adorned with: caramelized onion, applewood bacon, gruyere, Maytag blue, and arugula. My notes about the onions were that they were very bouillon heavy: salty and sweet at the same time, and nearly overpowering of the other flavors. Upon reading the description, I inquired as to why my burger hadn’t had bacon on it (because it didn’t). The same cheerful gent who greeted me explained that the bacon wasn’t strips but is confit, and it’s IN the onions. I would absolutely never have known, but I really wish I had because I wonder if the experience would have been any different. I never picked bacon out as a flavor in those salty onions, and I’m so bothered by it now that I almost want to go eat it again as I write this. In any case, the burger is pretty well assembled even if one flavor dominated. The cheese appeared to be broiled on to the patty, making it melted and browned a.k.a delicious. Arugula is always a good pick for sharp green, and F.O. serves its burgers on buttered Portuguese rolls, which I thought was innovative. Instead of being yet another brioche pusher, they slap their burger on some cheap yummy white bread. The patty wasn’t particularly seasoned that I could tell, and was firmly packed for my preference but overall, Father’s Office has a great and somewhat unique burger.

There’s a bug on my thumb. I didn’t eat it.

So the verdict is: there is some truth to the hype. Do I think that Father’s Office’s burger should rank amongst L.A’s finest? I might if it was six bucks, but for the money you spend I can think of many places I would rather eat. A burger, fries, one beer and decent tip is $30, and for that you can just about have your pick of any of Los Angeles’ finest ground meat sandies. To lay my initial Father’s Office experience to rest was not cathartic but important, and for the first time my opinion of this place is actually objective. This all feels good, but I’m still in no hurry to go back.

-Geoff Sawyer