Meat Cute
The Chinese may dub 2006 the year of the dog, but it's truly the year of the burger. Ground cow is the cat's meow, as hamburgers are the season's "It" sustenance. Gander at Shake Shack: Its lunch lines rival that of Depression-era soup kitchens. But waiting 90 minutes for a meat circle doesn't make it taste better; it makes you an idiot. Especially with an eruption of lesser-lined options.
Despite its unimaginative moniker, I admire the just-opened Burgers and Cupcakes' attempt to capture culinary zeitgeists. It's an unwieldy task, akin to a drug dealer trafficking incompatible addictions like cocaine and acid. As expected, the sweet-and-savory spot executes its mission to so-so effect.
I visit the Lincoln Tunnel area's Burgers and Cupcakes-announced by an arresting pink-and-brown sign near a police station-with thoughts of a quaint cubbyhole manned by a grinning line cook and a grandma baking cupcakes. Instead, I find bathroom-tile floors, light rock music and pink walls (with drawings of cupcakes and burgers hammering home the theme). The expansive, diner-like dining room feels more antiseptic than cozy and quaint. The only whimsy is a sign reading, please do not feed or touch the cupcakes.
No problem there-I want a freakin' burger. Among the veggie, salmon and lemon-grilled chicken options (available with toppings like double-thick bacon and veggie chili), I select the plainly named "hamburger," ($5.95, with fixins) and a wicker basket of fresh-cut fries ($2). My waitress, wearing a pink B and C tee (it's also for sale, of course), scampers back to the kitchen. In short order, I'm equally disappointed and sated.
The fries are as dark as a Florida tan. They're crunchy and, still wearing their skin, taste like taters, not old grease. I could eat these all day. Sadly, my lumpy, misshapen, "medium-rare" burger is pinker than Pepto-Bismol. The meat tastes like average, Key Food ground chuck, and the bun lacks squishy, grease-sopping quality. My solace is watching Hell's Kitchen parade past the wide picture window, while nibbling a chocolate cupcake ($2).
Still, I find my just desserts at Midtown East's Zip Burger, conceived by Les Halles veteran, Ted Pryor. His restaurant's red-neon signs, god-bless-America color scheme and upstairs dining room decorated with faux-cow-print furniture perfectly re-create the sock-hop era, right down to '50s-era friendliness.
"Hi, welcome to Zip Burger, how can I help you?" an apple-cheeked counter girl asks on a recent visit. She's deliciously subverting the fast-food cliche, much like Zip. House-made veggie burgers, all-natural turkey burgers and salmon burgers provide bases for upmarket toppings like Coach Farms goat cheese, grass-green guacamole, applewood-smoked bacon and roasted piquillo peppers. Tempting, right? Temper yourself. Each topping (except for pickles) has a price tag, from a quarter for a lettuce leaf to $.50 for raw red onion to $2.50 for guac. I understand the fancy-ingredient surcharge, but two bits for lettuce? Please. Free burger fixins is an American right as inalienable as life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
I take the classic ($4.50, and made from flavorful, finely fatty Hereford beef) topped with lettuce, pickles and grilled onions, as well as double-fried Belgian fries, and wait beside famished office workers and women cradling purse-size pooches. In a jiffy I'm upstairs dipping a blonde, undercooked fry in heavenly, homemade mayonnaise.
It's a mixed feeling: The mayo is a thick, tangy treat, but the wilted potatoes lessen the experience. I leave my fries in their brown, paper-bag coffin, wash 'em down with some summer-perfect minty iced tea ($1.50) and move onto my burger. Woo-eee, it's chin-drippingly tasty nibbles. The softy bun and tender, perfectly pink meat perfectly integrate with the toppings, creating a two-handed treat you should chomp slowly and savor. Zip's namesake is no Corner Bistro gut buster, but that's for the best: This way you can save space for a homemade milkshake.
Though B and C and Zip are excellent role players, in this hypercrowded meat market they're hardly destinations. Instead, these newcomers will ably serve their local, under-burgered neighborhood crowd?until another trend boots cheesesteaks, tacos and burgers to food's fickle curb.
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