Bareburger

“So, inside, right?” the hostess smiles as we walk in breathing heavily, foreheads glistening with sticky sweat from our 40 minutes walk from midtown to downtown. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but the 101 degree heat caught up to us around 14th street.

A chuckle is managed as we nod, yes, inside please. The hostess gestures towards a booth and before our butts hit the 100% recycled polyester vinyl, a large carafe of water hits our table.

“Thank you,” we both squawk and begin to pour out water immediately. One of us has our senses about him still and gestures for my very empty water bottle.

“Let’s fill this up first.”

“You’re a genius.”

We have been here before, thanks to a burger-themed Groupon, and I took the risk of buying two at once so we were here to redeem our second Groupon, already discussing how this could become a regular burger spot.

Reason #1: Meat selection round-up: beef, chicken, turkey, ostrich, bison, elk
Reason #2: all meat is either organic or all natural, grass-fed, and pasture-raised
Reason #3: So are their cheeses, breads, sauces, and vegetables. Heck, their tables are made from trees felled in storms and their tin roof is from leftover siding from barn raisings.
Reason #4: Curry ketchup dipping sauce.
Reason #5: Can their waitresses be any nicer?

We ooh and ahh over the meat-cheese-bacon combo options and finally decide.

“The baby blue with ostrich, please,” I tell the waitress.

“What kind of bread?”

Whoa, pop quiz time. I didn’t notice they even had a bread selection. “Uh, brioche.” First thing on the list, never a bad call.

“Western bacon burger with bison on a multigrain bun.”

“Oooh, wait, me too! Can I switch to a multi-grain bun?”

Our waitress nods, concentrated look on her face as she tries to maneuver the electronic PDA-like order-taking contraption with her stylus (wow, I really had to pull that word out of my 2002 memory word bank).

“Can we also get assorted pickles and an order of fries?” Good call, boyfriend.

She nods, brows still furrowed. “Don’t mind me,” she jokes. “I got it.” One final flourish of her stylus as she asks us if we’d like anything to drink.

“Just more water,” I say –

“And a beer for me.”

A few minutes later, the beer arrives and seconds after that, another carafe of water and a glass full of ice is in tow.

“Ahhh, you’re the best!” I exclaim and promptly whisper, “give her a big tip,” as she walks away.

“She just earned it right there.”

Our burgers, pickles, and fries basket (“good thing you remembered not to order two,” he says later in the meal) arrive, and well, look at them!

Photo 1: ostrich burger with danish blue cheese, applewood smoked bacon, lettuce, mushrooms, sauteed onions, and peppercorn steak sauce on a multi-grain bun
Photo 2: bison burger (it’s bison month!), pepperjack cheese, applewood smoked bacon, fried onions, cole slaw, and peppercorn steak sauce on a multi-grain bun
Photo 3: pickles! So many pickles! (wow, that’s a lot of pickles!) – regular, spicy, and garlic, and a side of slaw

And yes, they were as good as they looked. I never had ostrich before and it was love at first bite. It’s everything you love about a burger minus everything you hate about a burger. It tasted like red meat but you feel like you had turkey. The blue cheese was a small kiss at the end of each bite and the bacon rounded out the meat-fest with a sweet, crunchy hello.

I had a bite of the bison burger and managed to find one that didn’t include the hot sauce flood and pickle pile-up that it was subsequently slathered with and wow. All the flavors met in that happy middle place of everything-belongs-here.

“This might sound crazy,” he says, halfway through the burger, “but I might order another one.”

By the time we get to the end of our burgers, his mind is changed. He shakes his head. “Not getting another burger.”

For the next hour, we sit there in a vegetative state (ironic as we’ve just eaten so much meat), attempting and giving up on attempting to move or get up. We paw at the fries occasionally, shifting them around in the basket more than actually eating them.

“You know, we should really eat at places like this more often,” the bf says. “We talk about eating well and eating consciously and if we who are so passionate about this can’t do it ourselves, then how can we expect other people to do the same?”

“When you’re right, you’re right.”

Vegetative state continues as we do one of our favorite things – shoot the shit.

Our waitress checks in periodically to make sure we are doing all right, insisting that we take our time.

About two hours from when we first walk in, we feel adventurous enough to stand up and ask for the check. We have the pickles and the fries packed up (we made a small dent in the  basket and still have about three potatoes’ worth of fries left over) and lumber to the door.

We muster up enthusiastic thank you’s and brace ourselves for the heat. It’s gone down about 10 degrees and feels comfortably below 100.

Next time, I’m trying the elk.

Ostrich burger – unexpected and delighted flavor shimmy
Bison burger – perfectly crafted shimmy
Pickles – didn’t-try-them-but-they-looked-good shimmy
Fries – make-sure-you-only-order-one-basket shimmy

Bareburger
535 LaGuardia Place
New York, NY 10012
(212) 477-8125
bareburger.com