SRO

610 S Dearborn St.
Chicago, IL
312-360-1776

First thought: Standing. Room. Only. Nat, is this place formal? Do you think there will be a line?

Second thought: Man, I'm so sick of hamburgers. Really looking forward to the turkey burger as a change of pace.

Now, keep in mind, this was the ONLY turkey burger on the whole TOC list of five non-beef burgers. Using transitive logic, I'm taking that to mean this SRO turkey burger is being presented to me as the best turkey burger in the entire Chicagoland area. And with turkey burgers--moreso than with hamburgers--it seems like the possibilities for spice-centric creativity are endless.

We met up with Masur (the Shay of CBP) and an ominous separate party, a friend of Masur's who has lived upstairs from SRO for eight years but whom has only eaten their once. It seemed that the management was so rude on her one visit that in warranted never returning. Not a good sign, but we went forth with our mission. Stepping inside, Masur noted that the place reminded him of the Peach Pit on 90210. A fair assessment. There was definitely some Pop Tate-esque ambiance to it that was very pleasantly complimented by sports decor, specifically a signed jersey of Dennis Rodman's in the men's bathroom.

Nat and I ordered the Turkey burgers with fries while Masur ordered a normal cheeseburger with bacon and onions. Neither automatically came with fries, so we ordered those as well. When the burgers arrived, I had a brief moment of confused contemplation in which I wondered whether to put ketchup on a turkey burger (I hadn't had one in years), and I ultimately decided yes whil also noticing the surprising dearth of other condiments available.

The verdict simple and plain was that this was a dry, flavorless burger. It tasted more like a poorly done hamburger than anything distinctively bird-like, it was easily drowned out by just a small slap of ketchup and mustard, and the bun and extras did it no favors. Initially, I appreciated that the lettuce was chopped instead of in tact and serving as some unwieldy condiment boat, but then I realized that it was just stuff out of a bag. There was no freshness to anything being served.

[Apologies for the bad photos of turkey burgers, but you get the idea]

The fries were a disgrace. If fries aren't included with the burger, one should really get some sort of fried potato beyond a mere defrosted crinkle. The place didn't completely strike out, however. Masur reported that the bacon-onion cheeseburger was pretty decent.

[The SRO bacon, cheese, onion jumpoff]

[The Worm tribute was much appreciated]

So I am left wondering as we have so many times if we simply hit this place on an off night. For a place that boasts "Chicago's one and only turkey burger" on their website and that has been voted to not only TOC's list, but also by CBS Chicago as having the top turkey burger in the city, I am more shocked than I was disappointed. It was as if someone told me that Two Weeks Notice was a film masterpiece and then I had to see it, then...seeing it. As Harry Allen once told me, hype is truly something not to be believed.

The Grafton

4530 N. Lincoln Ave
Chicago, IL
773-271-9000

After our 8,000-calorie snacks at Max's, Adam and I rolled over to Lincoln Square (about half a mile north of Jury's) to see whether there was anything remotely special about the burger at The Grafton, one of at least ten prototypical Irish pubs within about a mile of each other. (Celtic Crown, also on our list, is the tenth---stay tuned.) We wandered around the restaurant unnoticed before we decided to seat ourselves in a booth by the kitchen and futz with our phones for a few minutes.

$7.95 buys you the burger, lettuce, tomato, and fries. Other toppings---even onions!---are 50 cents apiece. You can upgrade the fries to onion rings or a salad for $1. A side of curry sauce costs 50 cents. Napkins were free as of this writing. We ordered burgers (mine, medium rare with bleu cheese; Adam's medium with onions) and one side of curry sauce. (We received and were charged for two.)

Because we were sitting by the kitchen, we actually noticed that our burgers were ready well before anyone employees of The Grafton did. A busboy eventually picked them up, circled the restaurant, returned to our table, and then got the hell out of there before we realized how much our orders had suffered. Just look at the impenetrable skin that developed on the curry sauce:

Isn't that horrible? The fries were lukewarm by this point, but they're identical to the fries served everywhere else in the entire world, so we couldn't be too disappointed.

The tomato slice was pretty good (hard to screw up a decent tomato this time if the year); the limp mesclun added nothing. This patty's got some size to it, with a respectable amount of char and a generous serving of bleu cheese. The meat was a cut above what we expected; Adam dubbed it a better version of the Select Cut burger due to substantial sirloin flavor. I found mine to be drier than I would have liked, and decidedly cooked past medium rare.

My bun made it about halfway through the meal before falling apart. Putting the tomato on the bottom couldn't have helped. For the life of me, I can't figure out why places do this.

The best part of the whole experience? We've now put the Pub Burger category to bed.

Max's Italian Beef

5754 N Western Ave
Chicago, IL 60659
(773) 989-8200

More fries this week---but not just any fries, Ghetto Fries, which are average, frozen fries made "ghetto" with the addition of Merkt's cheese sauce, giardiniera, chopped onions, "gravy" (I think this is just giardiniera oil), and barbecue sauce. They are available at Max's Italian Beef, a pretty typical Italian beef/Chicago dog restaurant across Western from the Rosehill Cemetery.

These things get way too much attention for being standard-issue fries with a bunch of cheap condiments on top (to be fair, they'll only cost you $3.15). They're allegedly named for a former employee who went by "Ghetto Girl" and are decidedly not an attempt tap into the always-profitable stereotype of poor people putting Merkt's on everything (cf. Hecky's Mutt; Ghetto Latte). Anyway, these are exactly the sum of their parts---I'm a little mystified by a place hanging their hat on a dish so easily replicated by anyone with access to a Fixins Bar, but they've been around for 50 years, I think the sweetness of the sauce, the sharpness of the cheese, and the saltiness of the fries are supposed to play off each other, but they didn't do that so much as just kind of decompose into a homogeneous mass.

One note: these were really, really greasy.

Adam tried these Loaded Fries, which are loaded---not with socioeconomic overtures---but mozzarella, onion, bacon, and ranch dressing. They, too, are an uninspired pile of stuff. Without a base of good fries, I don't see the appeal.

For what it's worth, they were less greasy.

Morton's

Morton's
65 East Wacker Place
Chicago, IL 60601
312-201-0410

I had a really good date at Morton's once. It was probably the least impressive steak I've eaten in Chicago (David Burke's, Keefer's, and G&G are preferred), yet the meal also included probably the best desserts I've ever had in my life: the Grand Marnier Souffle and the legendary chocolate cake.

My feelings on the establishment before our burger trip, therefore, were one hundred percent 50%. We had actually intended that day to go to Saltaus for their lamb burger, but (surprise surprise) Saltaus no longer is in business. This makes at least to my knowledge three places that have closed since the Time Out list first came out (and Hackney’s can’t even get a mention??? 70 years STRONG IN THE GAME).

So, miniburgers it is. Show us what you got. Going to a respectable restaurant strictly for the purpose of downing miniburgers automatically puts one in an uncomfortable position for two reasons (1) One worries about offending/disappointing the staff by only ordering the piddliest thing on the menu (this is all probably exacerbated by my paranoia over reverse ageism and the fact that I often look like crap when hitting up restaurants right after work), and (2) As with any low-priced item at a somewhat higher end spot, one must be continuously vigilant about any “strings attached.” Like, what sort of drink special do I have to order to reap the benefits of the miniburgers? At what not-quite-dinner time do I have to arrive to obtain the miniburgers? Where am I allowed to sit if I want to eat miniburgers as a single item?

As I’ve gotten on in years I realize that I would pay a flat fee just to avoid all of this nudging and handwringing. Thankfully, Morton's gave us none of that business. We took a seat at the bar, were treated like adult homo erectuses, allowed the happy hour menu of burgers at half price (I think we ended up paying under 20 bucks apiece for burgers, [overpriced] beers, and fries), and were given no odd looks. The burgers were fine--probably the least greasy beef miniburgers we've tried so far. I lamented the fact that miniburgers really shouldn't have so much lettuce on them (seems like filler), and Nat quickly reminded me that he had complained about the Poag Mahone's burgers being too barren. There is truly no pleasing us.



The only conundrum was that Nat ordered the bleu cheese fries, and I the regular fries. As the bleu cheese fries constitute a separate dish during bar menu time (or whatever), Nat actually received more fries than I did, for the same price. All of which means I could have ordered bleu cheese fries--"hold the cheese"--and received more fries. This scenario is truly the Monty Hall Problem of the Chicago Burger Project. All in all, the experience really gave a good vibe on Morton's, and I think it is my new 100% foolproof Loop option during happy hour-ish time.

Sweets & Savories

1534 West Fullerton Avenue
Chicago, IL 60614
(773) 281-6778

Between a massive laptop malfunction, an insane work schedule, and a couple of unexpected locksmith fees, April was the cruelest month for Adam. Thank God for his parents, who, not wholly unlike Solomon, considered his situation and said, "There's nothing we can do but buy you dinner." In an attempt to maximize efficiency, we decided to take that offer to Sweets & Savories, one of the last remaining burgers that we expected to be any good. We left feeling physically ill. What a disappointment.

I'd been to S&S once before, for their $60 Monday tasting menu. I don't really remember the specifics, but I seem to recall enjoying myself. In the interest of disclosure, my girlfriend had the single worst brunch experience of her life at S&S and is still able to conjure up unprecedented amounts of ire for aggressively bad service, but she did enjoy the food. We were able to OpenTable a 7 PM reservation for a Friday night on Thursday, which for a restaurant of this size (the dining room fits maybe 30 people) could be taken as a bad sign.

Things were going wrong from the minute we arrived. The restaurant was 90% empty, although half the room was reserved for a large party that would begin to arrive as we were leaving, so we were given the option of one of two tables crammed against the front window. Adam ordered his usual Negroni, which completely flummoxed our waitress, an odd reaction from a place that had their signature "pomegranate Negroni" written up in Esquire a year ago. She went to look it up. I ordered a dry Manhattan, and when they finally came, both drinks were excellent.

There's a menu on the S&S website, but don't expect it to reflect what's actually being offered on a given night; there were about five appetizers and five entrees to choose from, all a few dollars more than listed online.. We split a bowl of mussels and an arugula salad. The mussels were very fresh and were served bathed in a light lemony broth---quite good. We had to split the salad---consisting of nothing more than arugula leaves, a sprinkling of some shredded cheese, and lemon juice, for $10---ourselves at the table, which I hate.

The kitchen and the waitstaff desperately need to work on their timing. Halfway through our appetizers, we had to fend off busboys who were trying to clear our table "because the burgers are done." When we relented, the burgers ($20 apiece) were quickly brought to our table, but we had to wait several minutes for our $8 platter of duck fat frites (served with a smear of an admittedly tasty apricot and date chutney). They were fine, but naturally they called to mind the duck fat fries at Hot Doug's (~$3.00 for a similar-sized serving, available on Fridays and Saturdays), and they just weren't as good.

The burgers themselves, Time Out's Number One Dressed-Up Burger: "American Kobe" beef with a blob of "duck liver pate" on top and truffle-y mayonnaise on the side:

This patty is interchangeable with the ones that we've had at Park Grill and Rockit---which is to say, it's juicy, quality stuff, but no better than well-made examples of non-"Kobe" meat (as served at Kuma's) and not even touching the steak-like qualities of the Rosebud's burger. The wink-wink-nudge-nudge "duck liver pâté" may thrill some with its illicitness, but it doesn't do much for the taste. Think about it: we're looking at about a 10:1 beef-to-foie ratio. However, this is not to say that this topping is inconsequential: while it's not adding much taste, it's adding grease and fat, which definitely contributed to the gut-bombed feeling we'd both have in about ten minutes. This burger is just too big for it to just taste like meat: it would benefit greatly from some sharp bleu cheese, or even just a spoonful of mustard, which I'm sure would be simply heresy at Sweets & Savories. (Our waitress did inquire how we were enjoying the food, and instead of letting us answer, scoffed in an unendearing way: "I know I HARDLY have to ask."*)

A word about pricing: this is the most expensive burger we've had, and it comes without fries. $20 is getting into the "ridiculous" category. On Wednesdays, this burger is $10---and I'm so down on this place, I can't tell if I'm hating just to hate anymore---but rather than enticing me, this just made me feel like I was being ripped off. A hamburger really should never cost much more than $10. I resent your MSRP games, Sweets & Savories.

We grasped for redemption with a couple of desserts (an apple tart and some kind of chocolate-cake thing) that were nothing special. Our total bill was north of $120; I mentally committed seppuku while thinking of the meals that would have bought us at Gene & Georgetti's or Avec.

I can't impugn everything about this place, but man, do I want to; that's how much this burger offends me. But the fact is, some of what we had was very good, and I absolutely believe that things we didn't have are very good as well. So, why shoot yourself in the foot with weirdly insolent service and prices that are simply skewing too high?

*We would hear the same waitress confirm to another diner that the fries are cooked in duck fat "because it's healthier."

Riverview Tavern

Riverview Tavern
1958 W. Roscoe St.
Chicago, IL 60657
773-248-9523

Sometimes I just don't get Chicago. There's seemingly a million places like the Riverview Tavern. ESPN HD. Bar food. Some innocuous name...In fact the name was so generic that Nat and I almost missed the place, instead stopping at some place called the Westside Grill or the North Street Bar, or the Lakewood Pub. And yet, our fearless guides TOC decided that this place miraculously housed one of the best 50 burgers in the city.

Let's cut to the chase. I began by asking our adorable waitress how the Bloody Mary was. Her response? "We can make you one." Quite the endorsement. On the other hand, I thought, screw it, I wanted a Blood Mary, so I got one. I was watered down and amateurish, much like the Riverview itself. The rest of the night proceeded with Nat and I ordering decent Buffalo Wings and burgers--Nat got The Bobs, a "rollercoaster of flavor" served with cheddar, jalapenos, and chili. I got mine plain.

[My burger]

[The Bobs]

So, like most things that Nat takes pictures of, "it photographs well," but was completely standard. Nat likened it to the couch that your friend lets you crash on, which is kind of uncomfortable, but you're really tired so you just sleep on it anyway, and it's *fine.* I, on the other hand, have scarcely a thought on the thing. The patty was suspiciously round, as though they cut the meat with a compass. The bun was pretty good. The fixins were despicable, highlighted by these pathetic tomatos pictured below. BOTH Nat and I received the "ends," which really encapsulates the low-ness of the standards here. Oh, and the fries got really old really fast, as though they were sitting out for a long time in the kitchen.

[Seriously? We BOTH got the ends?]

The question I left with was why does this place exist? I guess it commemorates some cool old amusement park, but then again, Barnum & Bagel commemorates an entire circus, and it shut down. The experience as a whole was similar to stopping somewhere on a cross-country roadtrip, after days of eating Subway, and being surprised at how not-bad the place was. In other words, we are thankful to cross the Riverview off the list once and for all.

Feed

2803 W Chicago Ave
Chicago, IL 60622
(773) 489-4600

Major annoyance directed at TOC this week. In an earnest effort to attack some of the less-anticipated burgers, Adam and I resolved to check out the---sigh---$13 "buffalo sliders" at Fixture. We parked the car, walked over to the restaurant, and found, to our surprise, this restaurant of no repute had ceased to be, despite any kind of notice on the website.

Did we wait too long? Or just long enough? It's all in the eye of the beholder...I must confess, I was less-than-excited to drop the kind of cash that I knew we would at a restaurant we didn't care about and probably wasn't great (suggested by middling reviews on LTH), and it would seem that the market took care of that for us. In honor of the pending recession, we turned the car around and headed south to investigate the burger at Feed, a eminently solid rotisserie chicken meat-and-three restaurant.

I've had plenty of fine meals at Feed, usually plates of perfectly roasted half-chickens and a few fine sides of the collards/mac and cheese/cornbread variety. Everything's been between somewhere between fine and really good. Were it not for the Project, I doubt I'd ever waste a trip to Feed on a hamburger any more than I'd have the chicken at Rosebud, but here we were.

As Adam noted, they take the chicken theme very seriously:

Both a Big Burger (1/3 lb.; $6.50) and a Really Big Burger (1/2 lb.; about a dollar more) are available. Cheese costs $.50; bleu cheese costs $1. We both placed orders for regular Bigs with the exceedingly friendly counter-guy (note: Feed is cash-only). By default, burgers come with fries and slaw as sides, but you can upgrade to any of the others for $.50.

After about ten minutes, our burgers were up.

Sadly, this wasn't a very impressive showing. The meat was grilled to our specifications, sufficiently juicy without being greasy, but the lettuce and tomato on the side were sadly representative of the late-winter season, and as Adam put it, "we've seen this bun before." It's a really common kaiser-style roll that's too soft to not soak up juice (even when toasted, as we saw it here). There wasn't really enough bleu cheese to make any sort of impression.

Fries, however, were much more impressive: crisp exterior, soft interior, indicative of a fryer knowledgeable in the proper two-stage cooking technique. Feed features an impressive assortment of condiments, including Adam's coveted yellow mustard, malt vinegar, sriracha, and El Yucateco habanero sauce. It's always a treat to find a place with slaw that's not soaked in mayo, and Feed's is a pleasantly vinegary variety.

Still irritated, I placated myself with a slice of Feed's homemade peach pie. All pie-relevant superlatives are applicable here. The filling was light and sweet, but not too sweet (far from the jellied crap in most commercially available pies). The crust was nothing relevatory, but crisp and flaky, and decidedly worth the calories.