Day Two: The Meat to Beat

I've often said that I'd have no problem being a vegetarian if it weren't for cheeseburgers. Damn, I love cheeseburgers. They are my ultimate comfort food. David is not averse, so we often go in search of the gold standard when we visit someplace new. We enjoyed Vera's Burger Shack in Vancouver and Five Guys in Washington, D.C. We really loved Taylor's Automatic in Napa.

Here in San Diego, I'm always on the lookout for reliably delicious burgers. I have my preferences. They have to be juicy but not too rare, with yummy sauce and a bun that doesn't cut the roof of my mouth. A couple of my favorites are at the Kensington Grill and Hamburger Mary's (now called Urban Mo's.) The former is served on focaccia bread with interesting greens and a metal container that holds a paper cone of delectably herbed shoestring fries. It also comes with two little ceramic pots, one with ketchup and the other a yummy pink sauce. The Mary/Mo's burger is special because it's served on Hawaiian bread toast, which contrasts sweetness with the savory burger, and more pink sauce. I'm a sucker for the secret sauce.

Recently, our favorite San Diego burger is at Burger Lounge, where they put thought into every ingredient: grass-fed beef, choice of cheese, crisp lettuce and tomato, onions (grilled or raw at your pleasure) and a homemade bun. The pink sauce is chunky and zesty, but I get it on the side so the bun doesn't get soggy. I think what I like most about Burger Lounge is that the whole restaurant is devoted to burgers, and while it's casual enough for kids, when you're seated at a sidewalk table enjoying a great burger, gourmet root beer, Panko onion rings and one of the best salads I've ever tasted (topped with taro matchsticks) it feels like a real event.

But my most memorable burger to date is not so easy to access. I tasted it in summer of '05 in New York City on W. 57th in Le Parker Meredien Hotel. You might be thinking, what does some hotel chain know about good burgers? A bunch, as it happens. I'd read about the place in my Frommer's New York, and they were not faint in their praise. One day my friend Sue (read about her in "Leg One: Marshfield") trained in from Boston to spend the day with us, and after a jaunt to Ellis Island, a sugar rush at Dylan's Candy Bar, and an aborted late-afternoon stop at Serendipity 3 for frozen hot chocolate (the line was just too long) I mentioned my Frommer's findings and, in the spirit of scientific research, off we went.

The hotel was very white and chrome and sleek and minimalist. It looked like a hotel. There was a cafe off the lobby, and the reception desk, the usual. We walked around and around and David and Sue probably thought I had the wrong place. Suddenly, I saw a little hallway, totally unobtrusive, covered with a black curtain. Above the curtain hung a neon-lit burger, about the size of my hand. "THERE!" I shouted triumphantly. We parted the curtain. Inside was a magic world.

The place is small, with wooden booths covered in scratched graffiti, and framed photos on the wall. There's a counter with a cash register, behind which a sizzling grill can be seen and heard. There's a little chalkboard that says something like "burger, cheeseburger, fries, milkshake, that's all." A combo with cheeseburger, fries and a shake was about $9.00. In New York City. The place was deserted.

Sue and I are eating buds from the olden days when we were 21. This was clearly no time to stand on ceremony, or dainty pretense. We bellied up to the counter and ordered three combos.

Readers, I wish I could describe to you what made that burger so sublime. I really do. (For one thing, all my training insists that I provide evidence for my claims.) But all I remember is a combination of burger, bun, cheese, sauce and heaven in my mouth. I had to close my eyes to finish the bite. The next was just as good. The fries and shakes didn't suck, either. But the burger....oh my.

The next day we were nearby (about 15 blocks away for a Broadway matinee) and, like a fevered junkie, I forced David to hike in the sweltering humidity at a brisk clip so I could find out if I'd dreamed the whole thing. This time, it was noon, and there was a line out the door, as is only sensible. Clearly, other people (none of whom seemed to be tourists) knew about...well, what do I call it? Most listings refer to it as "Burger Joint," but there's no sign, and even the hotel is coy on its website. After a long wait, I bit into my burger with trepidation: would the fantasy burst? Not a chance. If anything, it was even better than I remembered.

Back at home the following week, the "Seen and Heard" section of Us Weekly spotted Sarah Jessica Parker and family at their "weekly" visit to Burger Joint. So, it's not just me.

Dear Readers, I need your help if I'm going to keep my NaBloPoMoJo going...what, with the theme of "Food," would you like to hear about this month?

And tell me about your most memorable burger. (If you're a vegetarian, you're exempt.)