[Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt]

Hudson Common

356 W 58th St New York, NY 10019‎ (map); 212-554-6000; hudsoncommonnyc.com
Cooking Method: From freezer to griddle.
Short Order: A joke of burger so bad even Yelpers have caught on. But if you've ever felt like eating excellent fries in an Epcot Center interpretation of a New York party, this may be the place for you.
Want Fries With That? You want fries instead of that. Their thrice-cooked fries are excellent.
Price: Tiny, poorly cooked patty, $12; extra for a slice of dried out Velveeta, +$2; fries, $5

Let me start this review off by telling you that the Thrice-Cooked Fries ($5) with duck fat and sea salt at Hudson Common, the new burger joint/beer hall in the ultra-trendy Hudson Hotel, are excellent. Like, best-in-class, how-do-they-get-them-so-crisp? level good. I suggest you go in, order those fries and perhaps a beer,* then get out while the gettin's good, because it's all downhill from there.

* If you can put up with their ridiculous system of no waiters and two different lines to stand on in succession for drinks and food.

I'm not really the type of person who deals in take-downs or overly negative posts. But once in a while I feel so duped, so cheated, so entirely frustrated that I just spent $13 on the worst burger I've had since my middle school cafeteria days that I feel a bit of warning is due to our readers, in the hopes that the same fate will not befall them.

Excellent fries.

I also only choose to write this post because the burger joint in question happens to be inside a very popular hotel—one which there are good odds that a visitor to our fair city may stay at, or even choose to visit for their impressive outdoor drinking space and lounge.

If you do happen to find yourself at the bar enjoying a cocktail, I implore you to look elsewhere for your meal. It's not that difficult, seeing as they don't allow you to order food from the bar, despite the fact that the bar window and burger window are in the exact same room.

There actually, is some degree of culinary magic going on in the kitchens at Hudson Common. How else can you explain a burger that manages to be charred to the point of blackening around the edges, yet pale and steamed-looking across its entire face?

I have seriously never seen a burger patty that looks like this and am a bit mystified as to how it was accomplished. Perhaps an overly-compressed, potentially frozen patty that cooked so hot the edges shrunk, causing it to cup up and lose contact with the griddle is the answer? I really don't know.

I believe—I hope—that those frizzled things sticking to the meat were some sort of blackened caramelized onion detritus, though the menu description didn't advertise them and their flavor offered no clues.

Want to witness a bit more kitchen wizardy? Just watch as we take this slice of Velveeta cheese—well known as the processed cheese that will melt into gooey sauce if you even look at it wrong—and convert it into a plastic sheet so dry and shriveled that it will actually refuse to melt under the heat of your burger. Ta-da!!

A strangely sweet, horseradish-flavored sauce distracts you from the meat, which can be a good thing. At least the bun was properly toasted.

This is a rare case in which the veggie burgers are actually superior to the regular burgers. Though not by much. They have decent flavor and appear to be made with real vegetables, but are mushy to the point that the squeeze out of the sides of your burger as you bite.

If you're willing to spend even more money, you can treat yourself to even larger sandwiches that aren't worth eating. The breaded cutlet inside the Pork Katsu BLT ($15) is alright, albeit greasy on its own. Smears of unidentifiable creamy sauce, insipid off-season tomatoes, and clumsy fat slices of iceberg lettuce doused in Japanese Worcestershire sauce don't do it any favors.

I'm serious here: stick with the fries. If you want a full-meal, order the Bloody Mary Bacon Fries, which, for $9, is not only cheaper than almost anything else on the menu, but is also infinitely more edible.

Think poutine meets barbecue meets bibimbap meets nachos and you have a fair idea of what's going on. The awesome triple-cooked fries are topped with slices of pickled okra and jalapeño, along with plenty of squeaky cheese curds, a soft-yolked fried egg, and tender chunks of braised pork belly (which I wish they wouldn't call bacon). The dish is so damn good that it makes you forget all about the earlier trespasses.

Until the deafening house music starts pumping. Dammit, time to get the heck out of here.

About the author: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt is the Chief Creative Officer of Serious Eats where he likes to explore the science of home cooking in his weekly column The Food Lab. You can follow him at @thefoodlab on Twitter, or at The Food Lab on Facebook.

[Photographs: Robyn Lee]

Burger Joint (in Le Parker Meridian)

119 W 56th St New York, NY 10019 (map); 212-708-7414; parkermeridien.com
Cooking method: Grilled
Short Order: Solid but unseasoned burgers served up in a unique space.
Want Fries With That? Sure, especially if you like McDonald's fries.
Price: Hamburger, $7.58; cheeseburger, $8.04; fries, $3.90
Note: Cash only

April was a good month for Burger Joint. While the original—open since 2003 in Midtown's Le Parker Meridien Hotel—had settled comfortably into the recognized pantheon of NYC burger excellence, the sudden, unexpected announcement of a second Burger Joint opening in Greenwich Village (joining other locations in Seoul, South Korea, and a planned restaurant in Dubai) set off a storm of excitement within our little food-centric universe. Chief among them was Eater, whose "Burger Week 2013" coverage was uncannily timed with the opening. Their coverage culminated in a March Madness-style face-off between "fancypants" and "budget" burgers. In the end, Burger Joint pulled off a stunning victory over dark horse Brindle Room, whose Steakhouse burger is easily my favorite burger in the city—twice as good as the Minetta Tavern Black Label Burger at half the price.

Now I have to clear the air and admit that I'd never been to Burger Joint prior to this review. Can you really blame me? Le Parker Meridien is located in a neighborhood anathema to most New Yorkers. Sure, I promised myself, if I should wander into the area during lunchtime with an hour to kill, I'd absolutely try a burger, but it turns out that the only time I'm ever in the West 50s is to visit out of town relatives (and they have other plans). It was the Burger Week victory combined with the new location that made the trip overwhelmingly relevant and completely unavoidable. So late last week, intrepid burger editor Robyn Lee and I ventured to both Burger Joints in succession—a semi-scientific experiment in burgerology.

First up was the original. The marble and mirrored lobby is dominated by an incongruously beefy smell emanating from the massive maroon curtains in the far western corner. For a moment I empathized with the jet-lagged traveler who books an expensive room in a stylish hotel, only to find that a half-hidden burger spot overwhelms the otherwise staid lobby without ever being seen.

Once we pulled back the curtains, the revealed restaurant evoked the basement set in Wayne's World after Rob Lowe's character took charge. Sure, years of use has naturally added character, but the faux-'70s basement setting feels forced, especially with '60s Music 101 blasting over the speakers, straight out of a Robert Zemeckis movie. Even at the awkwardly early dinner hour of 5 p.m. the joint was jammed with tourists waiting for burgers.

The menu is short: burgers, fries, drinks, and shakes. Choose from toppings including lettuce, tomato, onions, pickles, mustard, mayo, and ketchup, or you can get them all as "the works." A cheeseburger ($8.04) comes with two slices, a mixture of White American and Colby cheese. Since ketchup only belongs on fries or a McDonald's Quarter Pounder (leave your hate in the comments), I went with the works minus one.

Ordered medium rare, the burger arrived after about a 15 minute wait. The texture of the five-ounce patty itself was the best part of the burger. Well-ground, pleasantly chewy and meaty without being mushy, it helped that it was cooked correctly. In a 2006 Diner's Journal article, Frank Bruni pinned the beef as ground top sirloin and shoulder, but I'm told it's 80/20 chuck, ground in-house daily. The most powerful element came from the grill, which added distinct char marks and a smoky, grilled flavor not often found within Manhattan. Sadly, the burger was unseasoned. It was fine, but unremarkable, tasting like one of the better backyard burgers cooked up on a distant summer Saturday when you went crazy at the toppings bar (but with slightly better beef).

Fries ($3.90) were better. Once we added salt, they were exactly what we craved: effectively crisp and almost exactly like a McDonald's fry. But at the price, I was disappointed (it's always difficult to meet high expectations).

Burger Joint

33 West 8th Street, New York NY 10011 (map); 212-432-1400; burgerjointny.com
Cooking method: Grilled
Short Order: Lack of salt undermines what is otherwise a solid burger
Want Fries With That? A little soggier than at the original location, but better seasoned
Price: Hamburger, $5.50; cheeseburger, $6; fries, $2.75; milkshake, $4.75

We now rested our hopes on the new downtown location, where the vibe couldn't have been more different. When we arrived at 6 p.m., Robyn and I were the only two people in the vast (at least compared to the original) wooden space. Prices here are about $2 cheaper across the board, and, unlike the original, Greenwich Village takes credit cards. Most importantly, the music was much better, with Gipsy Kings and Harry Belafonte underscoring the meal before Herb Alpert blasted "Zorba the Greek" as we finished our shakes.

Sadly, the burgers could not compare. While the components were the same and were ordered and delivered medium rare, the burgers tasted even less seasoned than before (even though the other burgers were similarly unseasoned). They also lacked the distinctive grill flavor that I'd honed in on earlier. I can only assume this is from the extra mileage on the grill uptown.

Fries ($2.75) were better seasoned, but not as crisp. Our strawberry and vanilla shakes ($4.75) were good, but didn't leave a lasting impression, especially when compared to similar shakes around town. Either way, despite the relaxed atmosphere, the burger was ultimately a disappointment.

If I placed Burger Joint head-to-head, Burger Week-style against its most obvious competitor, Shake Shack, I can't see myself recommending Burger Joint. While I'll likely return to the Greenwich Village location once the bar area is finished, the original location is best left as a novelty.

About the author: Noah Arenstein is a practicing lawyer, freelance writer, and co-founder and managing editor of Real Cheap Eats, a site dedicated to finding the best dishes under $10 throughout NYC. He can also be found at Smorgasburg in Williamsburg on Saturdays, making "Global Jewish Sandwiches" for Scharf & Zoyer. Follow him on Twitter @ChiefHDB.

[Photographs: Robyn Lee]

Cup & Saucer Luncheonette

89 Canal Street, New York, NY 10002 (map); 212-925-3298
Cooking Method: Griddled
Short Order: Not a burger you'd go out of your way for, but not a bad option for the neighborhood
Want Fries With That? Skip the fries
Price: Cheeseburger deluxe, $8; regular cheeseburger, $4.50

I love old school diners—counters with swivel stools, decor that hasn't changed in decades, waiters and cooks with white paper hats, pancakes for dinner—but I rarely think to eat at them. And not for any good reason. I just forget they're there.

Why is why I felt like a failure for never having eaten at the 25-year-old Cup & Saucer Luncheonette until this month. Because Cup & Saucer—a mere 10-minute walk away from Serious Eats HQ in Chinatown—is a lovely spot for friendly service and decent wallet-friendly fare in a classic all-American setting.

The cheeseburger deluxe ($8) is the regular cheeseburger ($4.50) plus two slices of tomato, more chopped iceberg lettuce than could fit on a burger (it's more like a boring side salad), a pickle wedge, and a pile of unsalted, not crisp enough french fries. I'd say skip the deluxe and just go for the cheeseburger. The six-ounce patty comes on a standard squishy sesame seed bun and two slices of melted American cheese, under and on top of the patty.

I ordered my burger medium rare and got a satisfyingly juicy patty. Unfortunately, it was bland because they don't season the meat before they cook it. Maybe they'll salt it if you ask. The two slices of cheese sandwiching the patty helped in the salt department.

I wouldn't go out of my way for this burger, but I would go out of my way to eat at this welcoming, friendly little diner. I'll definitely be going back to Cup and Saucer, perhaps for fish on a bun.

About the author: Robyn Lee is the editor of A Hamburger Today and takes many of the photos for Serious Eats. She'll also doodle cute stuff when necessary. Read more from Robyn at her personal food blog, The Girl Who Ate Everything.

Love hamburgers? Then you'll Like AHT on Facebook! And go follow us on Twitter while you're at it!

Editor's note: Please welcome AHT's newest contributor, Noah Arenstein! Noah is a practicing lawyer, managing editor of food blog Real Cheap Eats, founder of sandwich stand Scharf & Zoyer, and now a professional burger reviewer. He's kicking off his New York burger reviews with the classic Peter Luger.

[Photographs: Robyn Lee]

Peter Luger

78 Broadway, Brooklyn NY 11211 (map); 718-387-7400; peterluger.com
Cooking Method: Broiled
Short Order: Dry aged, impeccable beef seasoned and served simply
Want Fries With That? Skip them and save room for dessert
Price: Burger, $11.50; w/cheese, +$1.50; w/fries, +$1.95; w/bacon, +$3.95; creamed spinach, $9.95; hot fudge sundae, $10.95
Notes: Burger available until $3.45 p.m. daily. Reservations recommended.

I consider myself a seasoned burger aficionado, but for the past few years I've been a mostly silent witness to the proliferation of gourmet, needlessly complex burgers in New York City. It's sad, really, when a cook is inspired to mask the meaty essence of a burger with guacamole, salsa or—God forbid—a red wine reduction. Instead, I subscribe to the Ron Swanson school of thought where the meat is the star, salt is the only condiment, and a plate is an unnecessary luxury. That said, Ron Swanson would find himself at home contemplating a burger from Peter Luger in Williamsburg.

Luger is a haven to the art of dry-aged meat, straddling the Orthodox South Williamsburg and the hipster-ridden North. While dinners are booked months in advance, lunch is a simpler proposition. The burger, served daily until 3:45 p.m., is exactly what you would expect from Luger: a study in simplicity.

The basic burger ($11.50) comes with just a slice of raw onion, and American cheese and bacon are the only listed add-ons. I'd recommend cheese, but if you insist on their absurdly thick-cut bacon, eat it on the side. The burger sits on a sturdy yet fluffy sesame bun that comes, according to the hostess, "from the bakery, in Queens." No further information seemed necessary, and despite more pressing, none was offered.

The patty itself is composed of trim from Luger's fabulously dry-aged beef, which is coarsely ground and formed into large, half-pound patties. A deep, brown crust is formed by cooking the patty under the same super hot broilers used on their steaks. While I've read enough independent accounts of unevenly cooked burgers to suggest a trend, both burgers ordered arrived exactly medium rare.

Upon first bite, the most noticeable aspect of the patty is the rough grind, which provides a steak-like chew, while preventing mealiness. The salting was impeccable, accenting the buttery, dry-aged funk of the meat, and the previously mentioned sesame bun did a professional job of holding in the juices (a fair amount, but far from a torrential leakage), while the bite of the raw onion balanced the fat.

Your waiter will likely encourage you to load up on sides, but he will wisely advise against smothering your burger. This is good advice. At a nearby table, a man demanded lettuce and tomato atop his medium well burger. Despite his friends' embarrassment, the waiter relented for a cost: $6, $3 each for lettuce and tomato. An extortionate amount, but well deserved for someone unable to appreciate the burger. Please don't be this guy.

Save room for a sundae.

Speaking of sides, fries (+$1.95) were merely acceptable, well seasoned but dried out (Luger's German potatoes are not available on the lunch menu). Meanwhile, creamed spinach ($9.95) could have used a bit more salt. Better yet, save room for a classic hot fudge sundae ($10.95).

In a time where many self-styled burger maestros subscribe to the theory that more is better (rather than simply just more) those purported burger conceptualizers would be well served by trying the Luger burger. Hopefully they'd learn that, just as Ron Swanson preaches, the true secret to burger making (if there is one at all) is balance and simplicity, and no amount of premium toppings will disguise fundamental beef weakness.

About the author: Noah Arenstein is a practicing lawyer, freelance writer, and co-founder and managing editor of Real Cheap Eats, a site dedicated to finding the best dishes under $10 throughout NYC. He can also be found at Smorgasburg in Williamsburg on Saturdays, making "Global Jewish Sandwiches" for Scharf & Zoyer. Follow him on Twitter @ChiefHDB.

Love hamburgers? Then you'll Like AHT on Facebook! And go follow us on Twitter while you're at it!

[Photograph: Robyn Lee]

Burger Joint, the well-loved restaurant in the Parker Meridien Hotel, now has a new location in Greenwich Village, Eater reports. The new space is much larger than the original, a boon to the crowds likely to follow, and will also be serving liquor. The rest of the menu will be the same as the Midtown branch.

In Eater's interview, Burger Joint's president describes the restaurant's future franchising plans, both in the U.S. and around the world—a Seoul location just opened a couple weeks ago! The current American expansion hopes include Washington, D.C. and Cambridge. Expect a review of the West Village location in the weeks ahead.

More on Burger Joint

• AHT Review from waaaay back in 2005
• The Vegetarian Option: The Burger Joint

Burger Joint

33 West 8th Street, New York, NY 10011 (map)
212-432-1400
burgerjointny.com

[Photographs: Damon Gambuto]

Root Hill Burger

256 4th Ave., Brooklyn NY 11215 (map); 347-689-9040; roothillburger.com
Cooking Method: Griddled
Short Order: A new Brooklyn burger spot delivers makes gentrification taste delicious
Want Fries with That? Yes, please! Stellar spuds are one of many worthy sides
Price: b01, $10.50; fries, $3; Garbanzo Poppers, $4; beet salad, $3.50

While there's little hope I'll ever make the move back to my hometown, visits to New York City are welcomed reminders of my childhood and a look at just how far the city and I have come. Such was the case when I recently visited a Brooklyn neighborhood that I used to call home in the mid-'90s. Back then, the strip along 4th Avenue around President Street was little more to me than where I'd go to by a used tire for my beloved '79 Ford Granada. My apartment up the block on 5th Avenue would get broken into about once every three months (ah, the NYC of my youth). The neighborhood wasn't the parade of gentrification that it's become.

One of the first bellwethers of the transformation came in 2008 with the opening of Root Hill Cafe. Now the folks behind that enterprise—lead by partner and designer Stephen Kelley—have decided to double down on their neighborhood with a shining star of a burger joint called Root Hill Burger.

The most pleasing or disappointing aspect of Root Hill (depending on your taste) is its sparkling fast casual set up. The undeniably attractive mid-century-inspired interior was designed by Kelley and looks like it's ready-made for replication. Perhaps this speaks to the very heart of the gentrification conundrum: how to make something embrace the new without bulldozing the past. The upside in the case of Root Hill is this isn't all just patina of professionalism; this is thought out restaurateuring. They hired chef Cali Rivera, who has the excellent Prune and Gramercy Tavern on his resumé.

Besides burgers, fries, and shakes, the menu has some other pretty tasty goodies as well. I started with the Garbanzo Poppers ($4), deep fried Garbanzo beans tossed in honey and served with a yogurt and preserved lemon sauce. They were fantastic, without question the very best iteration I've tried of what I had previously thought was a questionable preparation. The crunch from the frying was just right and the balance of flavors from the honey and yogurt were spot on. If I still lived up the street, I'd watch every game with a bowl of these in front of me.

Next up was the beet salad ($3.50). This was less of a revelation than the garbanzos, but still, the creamy remoulade made it a tasty little side salad.

Of course, the main event was Root Hill's burger. They have a number of options available with beef, lamb, turkey, mushroom, and veggie patties. Unsurprisingly, I went for the first option. The b01 ($10.50) is the Root Hill custom beef blend that gets a Fontina cheese crisp (or tuile), a slice of tomato, sour pickles, and mayo on a brioche roll. It's all very familiar fast casual burgering.

That said, Root Hill manages to tease out a lot of personality and deliciousness from the otherwise familiar construction. It all starts with their patty. The blend of brisket and short rib was deliberated over for quite some time. The eight-ounce patty is coarsely ground and gets a beautiful crust from the spanking new flat top. It's a rich and full flavored patty that crumbles perfectly when you bite into it. Further, the patty is beautifully seasoned and has some serious juice. The toppings are all in good order save for the Fontina crisp—it isn't so much bad as it's not as good as the rest of the burger. Even the brioche bun from Amy's is better than the classification would suggest. The bun is decidedly spongy and matches the patty's size nicely.

The fries ($3) are excellent in their straightforward execution. Cut fresh in-house, they retain a strong potato flavor along with a great crisp from the double frying. These are a worthy accompaniment to the very good burger.

Root Hill Burger is what I'd hope for from a burger spot born from gentrification. That might sound like a slight, but I don't mean it to be. The folks behind it are earnest participants in the neighborhood and have lived there for years. Their restaurant is less a thumb in the eye of the neighborhood's legacy and more of an attempt to embrace the changing landscape. "We wanted burgers for this community and that means a lot of different elements and backgrounds and ethnicities," says Rivera. I'd hoped the least a place like this could accomplish is a tasty burger. Root Hill has done more than that; it's made a restaurant that's worthy of the neighborhood.

About the author: Damon is one of our roving burger reporters and food writers. When he's not eating more than is warranted or healthful (and then writing about it) he can be found writing and producing for television and film. You can contact him at seriouslydamon@gmail.com.

Love hamburgers? Then you'll Like AHT on Facebook! And go follow us on Twitter while you're at it!

[Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt]

Red Rooster

310 Lenox Avenue, New York NY 10027 (map); 212-792-9001; redroosterharlem.com
Cooking Method: Grilled
Short Order: A great burger with an even better bun
Want Fries with That?: Yes, picture-perfect shoestrings
Prices: Red Rooster Burger (w/fries), $19

Just a quick update from my neck of the woods.

It had been a while since I had the burger from Red Rooster. Its former incarnation was made with house-ground chuck and came topped with a pile of sautéed mushrooms that kind of overwhelmed the mild mannered beef. It wasn't a bad burger by any means, but not the best in the neighborhood. That distinction used to go to next door Chez Lucienne for their juicy, perfectly-cooked, and ultra-cheesy burger. But Red Rooster has upped its burger game, switching out their house-ground patty for a much juicier, tastier patty from LaFrieda, as well as getting rid of the mushrooms in lieu of more classic topping choices. Both of these are wise moves.

The new burger has been on the menu for about six months, comes grilled to order, and is served on a housemade, sesame seed-studded pretzel bun, another improvement over their old version.

Even better are the fries, which have now lost almost all pretense of being anything other really great thin-and-crispy fries. That pretense comes in the form of a light dusting of grated parmesan. There are worse things to be pretentious about.

Available on the lunch and brunch menus for $19, it's on the pricey side, but it's a big burger and, well, for better or worse, everything in the neighborhood is starting to get on the pricey side.

About the author: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt is the Chief Creative Officer of Serious Eats where he likes to explore the science of home cooking in his weekly column The Food Lab. You can follow him at @thefoodlab on Twitter, or at The Food Lab on Facebook.

Love hamburgers? Then you'll Like AHT on Facebook! And go follow us on Twitter while you're at it!

[Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt]

Harriet's Kitchen

502 Amsterdam Avenue New York, NY 10024‎ (at 84th street; map); 212-721-0045; harrietskitchen.com
Cooking Method: Grilled
Short Order: Big, classic cheeseburger with non-descript beef
Want Fries With That? Only if you like'em limp and greasy
Price: Cheeseburger, $7.75; with fries $10.25; chicken tenders, $10; sides, $3.75 to $7.50

My wife and I take the dogs to the run by the Natural History Museum on 81st and Columbus a few times a year for a good runaround followed by—if they're well-behaved—a doggie-sized "Poochini" sundae from the Upper West Side Shake Shack, along with a Shack burger each for us. There's no beating the burger, but truth be told, there are times when I've wished for slightly more expeditious burger service in the neighborhood, so I've been on a constant quest to find a suitable alternative to the Shack.

Next on the hit list: Harriet's Kitchen, an Upper West Side institution known for its large burgers and extensive list of Southern-inspired sides.

The grilled eight-ounce burgers ($7.75) look terrific coming out at you in their styrofoam take-away containers (they'll come that way whether you're taking out or staying in). Thick, glistening with grease, coated in perfectly melted American cheese with a pile of deeply caramelized onions tucked underneath a sesame seed bun.

Cutting it in half reveals a juicy pink center—properly medium-rare, as requested, though a touch gray, as if the meat had already started to oxidize from a bit of overexposure to the air. Biting into it reveals the same story. The patty is plenty juicy, but it's got the bland flavor of generic beef with a hint of staleness to it. Texturally, it's faultless, but in this day and age when every other burger joint in town is taking extra care in sourcing great beef and ensuring that it's fresh, a stale patty like this sticks out like a sore, cheese-coated thumb.

Sides are not all that much better, with greasy, limp fries and sweet potato fries bordering on burnt. I preferred the slightly over-mayo'd cole slaw and the perfectly fine mashed potatoes and gravy.

The place has got enough character that you really want to root for it, but it's tough when something as simple as chicken fingers ($10) come out looking and tasting like they had been forgotten, languishing in the fryer since before styrofoam became un-cool.

The best I can say is that the portions are big and the service and staff are as friendly as can be. The recipes and feel of the joint may be classic, but this is one case where the burger—figuratively and literally—hasn't aged well.

About the author: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt is the Chief Creative Officer of Serious Eats where he likes to explore the science of home cooking in his weekly column The Food Lab. You can follow him at @thefoodlab on Twitter, or at The Food Lab on Facebook.

VIEW SLIDESHOW: Long Island City: A Taste of Greenwich Village History at Corner Bistro

[Photographs: Nick Solares]

Corner Bistro LIC

47-18 Vernon Boulevard, Queens NY 11101 (map); 718-606-6500; cornerbistrony.com
Cooking Method: Broiled in modified salamander
Short Order: An NYC classic and arguably the city's first "destination hamburger." This half-pound pub-style burger comes loaded with toppings and served on the perfect white bun.
Price: Bistro Burger, $8; Chili Burger, $8

Few hamburgers have withstood the test of time with more imperviousness than the Bistro Burger at Corner Bistro. It has proven impervious to almost any food trend you can think of since it was crafted back in the 1960s. Impervious to the overnight popularity brought on by a 1977 Mimi Sheraton article in the New York Times. Impervious to the hordes of tourist that quickly followed and never abated. Impervious, thankfully, to the cynical pricing that often follows such success—a Bistro Burger costs $8. Impervious, even, to our own Kenji's less than positive assessment.

One thing that the Corner Bistro is no longer impervious to is branching out. The venerable West Village institution opened an outpost in Long Island City, Queens, last year and one can only assume that more will follow. In a world where chain restaurants go to great lengths to create a feeling of "authenticity" either by inventing some convoluted back story or building a set piece bar designed to look weathered and worn, Corner Bistro is the real deal. So much so that subsequent iterations need to get a few things right to live up to the legacy—they need to be on the corner, they need to have the iconic red neon sign, but most importantly the burger needs to be exactly the same as the one at the original location.

The Bistro Burger from the original Corner Bistro.

The Bistro Burger ($8) is an eight-ounce patty made from a blend of chuck, sirloin, and top round. The beef is delivered fresh daily and the patties are hand formed before being broiled in a modified salamander. The beef is no longer walked over from the meat packing district the way it was for many years—the Bistro's long time butcher has disappeared along with the rest meat packing industry in downtown Manhattan. These days New England Meats supply the blend for the burger.

The broiler has been modified so as to slow down the cooking and to stop flare-ups from occurring. The meat never gets charred the way it might on a regular broiler but rather develops a crust the color of dark mahogany and flavors that are closer to a roast than a steak. Internally, the lean yet juicy blend remains flaky and tender. This is a patty with a delicate texture, despite the overall heft of the thing.

The Bistro burger sits atop a sliver of white onion and underneath a blanket of American cheese, a slice of tomato, a wedge of iceberg, and a tangle of impossibly crispy deep fried bacon. The bun—which everyone from Mimi Sheraton to herds of Yelper's has complained about—is perfect in my estimation. Studded with sesame seeds, the enriched bread stands little chance under the deluge of beef, bacon, toppings, and any condiments that might be applied.

Because of the sparsity of grill space at the Bistro there is a tendency to pre-cook burgers in anticipation of lunch and late night rushes. This can lead to some rather dried out burgers, as Kenji discovered. The trick, I have found, is to order it rare. This usually ensures that you will get a freshly made burger. Or you could ask for a freshly cooked patty—just be prepared to wait. Because of the size and relatively languid cooking times it could be a while.

At their best—which in my opinion is a freshly broiled patty cooked rare—I liken Bistro Burgers to filet mignon. It isn't abundantly flavorful (in fact the Bistro burger isn't even seasoned), but it's is tender and juicy and comforting. There is no greater advocate of the Bistro Burger than George "Hamburger America" Motz, who considers it his "home town" burger. Its greatness, in his estimation, lies in its simplicity. There is nothing fancy about it—it is just a classic hamburger.

The Bistro Burger from the LIC Corner Bistro.

The good news is that the burger at the LIC branch is a virtual clone of the original. The exact same brand of salamander is used with the same modifications and the effect is the same: a dark brown exterior, a plump juicy yet lean interior. Everything is sourced from the same vendors—same beef, same produce and the same bun, which happens to come from a bakery just down the street from the new location.

The only real difference, putting aside the atmosphere of course, is that burger at LIC comes on a real porcelain plate, as opposed to the disposable variety that the original location is famous for. But that aside, the burger really is a taste of Greenwich Village history in a different borough.

It would be unrealistic to expect that ambiance could be as easily exported, and truth be told the story of the Corner Bistro elsewhere will be different. The LIC location seems to be more of a neighborhood sports bar with a wider selection of beers and an expanded menu that includes some terrific chicken wings (fresh, not frozen, just like the burger), a sandwich, and—gasp!—even a salad. But most importantly, the burger is exactly the same as the original.

For more photos of the original and LIC Corner Bistro, check out the slideshow.

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Back Forty West

70 Prince St., New York NY 10012 (map); 212-219-8570; backfortynyc.com
Cooking Method:Grilled
Short Order: A potentially great burger that falls short with peripheral dryness
Want Fries with That? Sure—fresh cut and well-cooked, but not earth-shattering
Price: Grass Fed Burger, $12; +$2 for cheese, Heritage bacon; add fries, $2; basket of fries $6

Close your eyes for a moment and let these terms evoke some mental imagery: "Slow Food," "locavore," "farm-to-table." What do you see? A bearded Brooklyn chef cooking some glorified cornish hen that came from less than 20 miles away? A $20 plate of seasonal vegetables? Or perhaps Alice Waters crouching in a garden? Well, maybe you see none of these—but I'm pretty certain that almost nobody has imagined a hamburger.

In theory, a standard burger—fatty beef cooked fast and topped with American cheese, forgettable veg and mass-produced condiments—goes against nearly everything the so-called locavore restaurants stand for. Nevertheless, these restaurants are bold enough to experiment with farm-to-table burgers on their menus. In fact, Peter Hoffman, one of the original innovators of Slow Food, offers a grass fed burger ($12) at his Back Forty restaurants in Lower Manhattan. Ed loved the burger at Savoy (Hoffman's original restaurant in this location) back in 2010, so I was particularly excited to give BackForty's version a shot.

Back Forty's primary mission is to provide accessible and affordable organic meals while maintaining "farm-to-table ethics." The website literature even goes so far to claim that "at its core, Back Forty is a burger joint." The woody décor didn't necessarily scream "burger joint," but the patrons seemed happy enough. I placed my order without hesitation; when my waitress swiftly delivered squeeze bottle of deep red, earthy-looking ketchup, however, I couldn't help but cringe a bit.

Arriving open-faced with veggies on the side, the burger itself certainly looked appealing. Although many AHT'ers deride cheddar for its melting issues, the slice of sharp white Cabot was melted (but not gloopy) and seemed to hug the patty like a tight sweater. Underneath the cheese, a pleasantly plump eight-ounce grass-fed beef patty boasted some beautiful browning from the grill—dark and crusty, but not burnt in any way. The commercial-looking Orwasher bun, additionally, had a light toast on it that just crisped it up around the edges.

As I cut the burger in half and saw a medium-rare center with sad, grey edges, I realized what I was dealing with: Back Forty's burger suffers from grass-feditis. There is a seemingly constant (though still inconclusive) dialogue on AHT regarding the merits of grass-fed vs. grain-fed beef. In simplest terms, grass-fed cows seem to produce more complex-tasting, beefier meat with less marbling (lower overall fat content). Back Forty claims their blend (mainly trimmings from in-house butchered half steers) is 80/20, although sourcing beef from three different New York State farms doesn't scream consistency.

Here, the fat deficit led to significant dryness on the burger's periphery. There is a chance that my doneness issues were an isolated incident. The more likely scenario, however, is that the cooks, working with a hot grill, face a tradeoff between rare insides and crusty outsides. Couple these cooking issues with the generally higher cost of grass-fed beef (a similar-sized burger costs $7.50 at two8two), and the burger's main ingredient becomes its own worst enemy. In other words: grass-feditis.

Nonetheless, my first bite, which I took from the burger's rarer center, was absolutely delicious. The well seasoned, crusty and subtly grill-flavored outside gave way to an intensely beefy inside. Combining the juiciness of a fatty burger blend with the funky mineral punch of grass-fed beef, this blissful bite hinted at what my burger could have been had it not suffered from overcooking. Though I could have added mixed lettuce, pickles and red onion, I found that the cheese was a sufficient topping for the burger. The sharp, aged Vermont cheddar complemented the beef well, though it wasn't present enough to distract from the overcooked edges.

Beyond the patty, the Orwasher "potato" bun ultimately tasted like simple, dry white bread (which in turn compounded the patty's issues). I would have turned to condiments to save the burger, but the three housemade condiments (which I sampled with french fries) were all quite flawed. On one hand, the magenta ketchup had a rich, deep one-note tomato flavor, but it lacked Heinz's vinegary tartness. Furthermore, the house mayo had great texture, but little flavor. Finally, the Dijon mustard tasted only of horseradish, as unpleasantly potent as the fake wasabi one finds in supermarket sushi.

My side of rosemary fries (+$2), however, was a more consistently pleasing affair. Although fries of this vein are rather standard at self-respecting NYC restaurants, the fresh-cut spuds were cooked until crispy and liberally salted. The fried batches of rosemary (rather than individual leaves) were also nice to bite into, though I wish I'd had some Heinz on the side instead of the trio of housemade condiments (in the end I mixed ketchup and mayo for a somewhat satisfying dipping sauce).

What's the take away? If you're at BackForty and want to order the burger, order it rare. But if you're seeking a destination worthy $12 hamburger, perhaps you should make the trip to Roberta's, where cheese, fries (and an "insanely tasty" hamburger) are included in the price.

About the author: Sam Levison is a college student, food TV lover, and kinda wishes Big Kahuna Burger were a real thing.

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[Photographs: Sam Levison]

LT Burger

8 West 40th St. New York, NY 10018 (map); ltburger.com
Cooking Method:Grilled
Short Order: Mediocre burgers at tourist trap prices fail to prove their worth
Want Fries with That? Absolutely—a delicious fresh-cut take on fast-food shoestrings
Price: The Standard, $9; +$1 for cheese; LT Backyard, $12; fries, $3.75

Before I associated it with a catchy jingle and post-WWII hegemony, the word "empire" meant one thing: the bad guys from Star Wars. These dark, coercive (and scarily austere) guys with accents were trying to take over the galaxy and their name evoked fear within the galaxy. As a naive child, I was petrified at the thought of an empire ever being real. Perhaps this is why the phrase "restaurant empire" still leaves such a bad taste in my mouth anytime I hear it. Yet restaurant empires make burgers, too, and therefore the newest addition to the LT family deserved consideration.

Despite his messy split from esquared Hospitality, Laurent Tourondel is still alive and kicking in the (restaurant) empire-building game. And after losing BLT Burger and GO Burger in the divorce, Tourondel has wasted no time reasserting himself in the burger realm. Enter LT Burger, a fast casual burger joint near Bryant Park, which bears Tourondel's now ubiquitous initials.

Housed in a former Tesla lab on West 40th Street, LT Burger exudes the peculiar essence of a Midtown concept restaurant. From the calculated modern decor to the absurd prices ($9 for a plain hamburger, no fries) to the hostess command center by the entrance, the place feels more like a stereotype than a dining establishment. Despite this refined appearance, my experience was rather bumpy.

On my noontime visit, I faced a substantial wait for a seat at the bar. Instead, I opted for take out, figuring I could enjoy the burger in the park on a cold, but sunny, afternoon. As the hostess took my order I, as a responsible AHT'er, asked about doneness. She responded: "Our kitchen cooks to medium/medium well by default and don't usually make accommodations for takeout orders." I exhaled slowly and quietly to mask my vexation and sat down to await my order. Within ten minutes my burgers were ready. I double-checked with the staff that utensils were in the bag; they weren't.

I unwrapped the first recycled paper package to reveal the Standard ($9), a straightforward hamburger with lettuce, tomato, pickles and onion. Besides appearing a bit overdone, the burger looked relatively harmless—perhaps the empire wouldn't be so criminal after all.

Sadly, the burger tasted less like beef and more like a grilled salad. The Certified Angus patty, seven ounces of "2 way chuck," was cooked to medium/medium-well as promised, which left it tasting only of char and a bit of salt. The pickles and onions were distractingly potent, so I discarded them only to reveal a burger that looked as if a child had scribbled grill marks on it with a black magic marker. A fire-kissed burger can be a beautiful thing, but this densely packed patty was more fire-ravaged than fire-loved. The sesame seed potato bun was nicely toasted, but its dry, brioche-like interior only compounded the overcooked patty's shortcomings.

Fortunately, the LT Backyard ($12) was a better burger on all fronts. In a testament to the kitchen's inconsistency, the patty was cooked to a solid medium rare. This doneness allowed for a better assessment of the beef. While relatively juicy and well seasoned, the patty still tasted overwhelmingly of grill. The bacon and cheddar cheese surely helped matters by adding fat and salt to the equation (they have a way of doing that), but only after I relieved the burger of its overwhelming salad doused in LT sauce (spiced mayo). Still, after the changes and the serendipitous doneness, the resulting burger was okay at best; and certainly failed to justify its $12 price tag. In the age of fantastic and thoughtful burgers under $10, LT Burger is for those who simply don't know any better (or put great confidence in a brand name).

The french fries ($3.75), on the other hand, overshadowed both burgers in flavor and execution. Essentially a fresh, hand-cut take on McDonald's shoestrings, these fries are thin, salty sticks that boast a bit more potato flavor than their fast food counterpart. Most impressive of all, the fries stayed crispy and relatively tasty after a long subway ride back to SEHQ. In the end though, no matter how good the side order, it cannot resuscitate an unimpressive main.

Thus, Tourondel's empire has attempted burger greatness and fallen sorely short. With lower prices, LT Burger's offerings might be acceptable, though still far from great. And while the New York burgerscape has no need for Laurent Tourondel's overpriced patties, the bizzaro universe of gaudy midtown concept restaurants will likely keep these mediocre burgers around long enough to crush another place like Prime Burger. Maybe everything will take a turn for the better in the sequel.

About the author: Sam Levison is a college student, food TV lover, and kinda wishes Big Kahuna Burger were a real thing.

Love hamburgers? Then you'll Like AHT on Facebook! And go follow us on Twitter while you're at it!

[Photographs: Jamie Feldmar, unless otherwise noted. Above, Robyn Lee]

Blue Collar

160 Havemeyer Street, Brooklyn NY 11211 (map); 347-725-3837; facebook.com/bluecollargoodjob
Cooking method: Flattop
Short Order: Simple, fresh, classic fast food-style burgers are some of the best in Williamsburg
Want Fries With That? Sure, the extra-crispy, thin fries are worth adding on
Price: Single burger, $4; w/cheese, +75¢; double burger, $5.75; w/cheese, 50¢; fries (sm/lg), $2.25/$3.25; shakes, $4.75-$5.50

With a name like Blue Collar, this tiny Williamsburg burger joint makes it clear from the get-go that they're not attempting to reinvent the burger. Instead, the cheery shop focuses on perfecting a small selection of Americana-style classics. And for the most part, they succeed.

This is a strictly counter-order operation, with a menu consisting of a burger, a hot dog, fries, and some milkshakes. That's about it (unless jalapeño poppers are on the specials board). It's not the kind of place that brags about its burger pedigree—although the chef is in the process of perfecting a custom sirloin/chuck/loin blend, right now, they use a standard Angus 81/19 blend of indiscriminate origin. But for these prices—$4 for a single, $5.75 for a double, with cheese for 75¢ more (50¢ on the double)—premium sourcing likely isn't their top priority.

That might sound like a knock, but in context, it isn't. The beef is fresh, and the burgers that Blue Collar turns out with great efficiency are compulsively edible and highly crave-able, so long as you're not expecting a gourmet experience. Parallels have been drawn between Blue Collar and those two high priests of thin patties, In-N-Out and Shake Shack. It's not an entirely off-base comparison, though one noteworthy difference is that there's rarely a line at Blue Collar.

Thin 3.5-ounce patties are pressed down with a weight on a flattop grill, and cooked to medium by default. While I prefer a medium-rare with a thicker burger, thin patties like these really benefit from that extra time on the griddle, developing a solid sear that plays nicely off of the soft potato roll they're swaddled in. The single is petite enough to almost be considered a snack, a boon to those looking for a lighter bite (or a late-night treat—the griddles stay hot until 2 a.m. on weekends), while the double obviously packs a beefier punch.

My cheeseburger ($4.75)—with American, the only option, and really, the only cheese that belongs on a burger like this—still maintained a thin layer of pink within, and was so juicy I went through about five napkins. Then again, that might have had something to do with the smear of secret sauce oozing out, which mingled nicely with the melting cheese and juicy patty. Toppings were simple—crinkle-cut pickle rounds, beefsteak tomato, raw onion, a sheaf of crisp lettuce—but fresh and portioned in a way that didn't overwhelm the patty.

Fries ($2.25/$3.25) are thin and extra-crispy, with a dusting of housemade seasoned salt. The milkshakes are very thick and creamy, though the chocolate version ($4.75) is sickly-sweet, thanks to a heavy-handed squirt of Hershey's syrup.

[Photograph: Robyn Lee]

The décor is retro-roadside chic: ketchup-and-mustard squirt bottles on the table, kitschy burger-themed posters on the walls, cherry-red plastic chairs. Service is ambivalent at best, but your interactions with staff are relatively limited—there's even a soda fountain for DIY drink-filling.

I feared in a snark-ridden neighborhood like Williamsburg that a place named Blue Collar would get mired in its own irony. But I was pleasantly wrong—it's a simple roadside-style joint, serving simple food at affordable prices. It's not destination dining. But it's not trying to be, and that's what makes Blue Collar succeed.

About the author: Jamie Feldmar is a Brooklyn-based freelance writer and editor eating her way across Southeast Asia for the next three months. See more of her work at jamiefeldmar.com or follow her misadventures on Twitter at @jfeldmar.

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Green Chili Cheeseburger. [Photographs: Max Falkowitz]

Nighthawk's Kitchen

At the Troy Waterfront Farmers' Market (indoors November through April at the Uncle Sam Atrium); 518-618-2333; nighthawkskitchen.com
Cooking Method: Griddled
Short Order: A coarsely ground smashed burger that balances meaty intensity with tangy, spicy toppings.
Want Fries with That? None; opt for mac and cheese instead (which can also go on top of your burger)
Price: Green Chile Cheeseburger, $6.50; toppings like lettuce and tomato, free; special toppings like green chilies and bacon, +$1
Notes: The market is open every Saturday year-round from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m.

Ed has said it before about farmers' markets, and I have to agree: in most cases, the food is pretty skippable. A farmer's prowess growing peaches is no guarantee that he makes good pie; a shepherd's lamb may be the best in the region, but that doesn't mean her sausage is.

But there are exceptions, of course, and fortunately for upstate New Yorkers just across the Hudson River from Albany, the Troy Farmers' Market is full of them.

Troy, the major city of Rensselaer County, New York, boasts one of the largest and most diverse markets in the state. During the winter (the market runs year-round, but is indoors from November through April) over 50 vendors come every Saturday; in warmer months that number grows even larger. Unlike New York City's Union Square market, where fruit and vegetables are the star of the show, the Troy market gives equal billing to winemakers, brewers, cheesemakers, food artisans, bakers, and pop-up food stands. The most enterprising of those stands, and arguably the tastiest, is Christian Noe's Nighthawk's Kitchen. His griddle-based operation draws the longest line at the market, and after a taste of his steak-y smashed burger, it's easy to see why.

Noe believes in a griddle without boundaries, and his menu gives equal billing to bacon-egg-and-mac-and-cheese sandwiches, ham biscuits, burgers, and homemade hot dogs. Those burgers come in a few topping iterations, each $6.50: Hatch chilies and locally made white American cheese, bacon and cheddar with fried onions, and mozzarella and tomato with sautéed mushrooms.

But it's the meat that makes them count: a 50/50 blend of brisket and chuck ground the day before market and shaped into 1/3 pound patties. The patties are cooked like classic smashed burgers: the griddle is hit with salt and pepper, then the meat is pressed right into the seasoning.

The resulting crust delivers: salty and intensely meaty with a crackle on first bite. Though what really sets Nighthawk's burger apart is the grind, which is coarse enough to leave little steak-y chunks strewn throughout the loosely packed patty. If I have a complaint with this burger, it's that the medium rare interior could stand to be more evenly salted and more juicy, but the satisfying bite of those larger chunks alleviates any hard feelings.

Pictured above is the Green Chili Cheeseburger, and though I didn't get to try the other toppings on my visit, this is still what I'd order next time. The roasted hatch chilies are more about tanginess than heat, and they give the meat all the brightness it needs. The American cheese comes from nearby Sycaway Creamery, and I'll applaud them for making a cheese that melts like Kraft but still tastes like real dairy. Noe uses Martin's potato rolls for his burgers, and to get them extra soft, he steams them on top of the patties once he adds the cheese. (There's no extra charge for the party streamer that's stabbed into the bun.)

Nighthawk's doesn't currently offer fries, so if you need something starchy to go along with your burger or breakfast sandwich, spring for an order of the Buffalo Mac and Cheese ($4 for 8 oz., $8 for 16 oz.), which is studded with blue cheese and spiked with hot sauce. The mac and cheese is pretty cohesive without much in the way of excess sauce; it performs admirably as a burger topping, which many customers request.

Nighthawk's is still a relatively new business, and the Troy farmers' market remains Noe's current base of operations. But he's keeping himself busy with caterings and cooking classes around the capital region. And more exciting: he's aiming to expand down in New York City, where he's already done a few catering jobs. Considering the constant growth of NYC burgers that cost three times what Noe charges for a less satisfying bite, here's hoping that he does so.

About the author: Max Falkowitz is the editor of Serious Eats: New York. You can follow him on Twitter at @maxfalkowitz.

[Photographs: Niki Achitoff-Gray]

Café Ghia

24 Irving Avenue, Brooklyn NY 11237 (map); 718-821-8806; cafeghia.com
Cooking Method: Griddled
Short Order: These patties are infused with bacon fat, giving them an amazingly rich, smoky flavor. Topped with roasted tomato aioli and some thick, juicy braised bacon, this burger leaves virtually nothing to be desired.
Want Fries with That? You won't find fries on this menu, but the herb-roasted potatoes are crisp, creamy, and perfectly seasoned
Price: Grass-fed cheeseburger, $13; braised bacon, +$2; roasted potatoes, + $1

If Roberta's and Northeast Kingdom are the only Bushwick dining destinations on your radar, then it's time for a serious tune-up (mixed metaphors aside). The last few years have seen the opening of a dozen or so "urban rustic" bars and restaurants that, for better or worse, seem ubiquitously and inextricably associated with Brooklyn gentrification.

When the brick-walled and sun-soaked Café Ghia opened in 2011, I expected more of the same. But if I'm completely honest, I didn't really care. What lured me in was the promise of brunch a full seven days a week—a feat virtually unheard of in the area, and the ultimate temptation for an under-employed freelancer looking to keep the hand-to-mouth cycle going full steam ahead. But it was the burger that made me stay.

Apparently I've been waiting my whole life for beef to taste a little more like pork. Head chef Vitorio Arviv infuses his grass-fed burger ($13) with smoky bacon fat, resulting in a patty with the texture of beef (only porkier, and therefore better) and the flavor of pork (only beefier, and therefore also better). You're pretty much sure that you're eating a new breed of animal. I like to imagine it with the head of a cow and the corkscrew tail of a pig, but to each their own.

Before beef purists get too dismissive, let me just say: don't. You may love beef, but this is beef, if beef had superpowers. Both the beef and the pork come from Arcadian Pastures in upstate New York. The coarsely ground, super-fresh patty of short rib and brisket weighs in at six ounces. Served on a perfectly portioned buttery brioche bun, courtesy of Grandaisy Bakery, the patty gets a thin melted coating of tangy shredded Vermont cheddar. Smoky and tender with a glorious charred crust, it reaches a mouth-shattering crescendo the moment you hit the generous, thick slab of pork belly (+$2) slapped on top of the patty.

Sprouts and pickles add a briny grassiness to the burger, but the real kicker is the roasted tomato aioli. Garlicky, sweet, tart, and oh-so-creamy, it's the kind of condiment I find myself wishing were a side dish in and of itself. Because yes, I could definitely eat that mayonnaise with a spoon.

Ghia's delectable roasted potatoes.

You can order your burger with a side salad, but I'd highly recommend dropping an extra dollar to substitute the roasted potatoes. Fries? Fuhgeddaboudit. Crisped to a golden-brown, the potatoes are deliciously smooth and powerfully seasoned with Herbes de Provence.

All in all, there's no way you're walking out of this Bushwick joint with anything but a full stomach and soaring spirits. And, of course, a hybrid cow-pig imaginary friend.

About the author: Niki Achitoff-Gray was once an intern at Serious Eats. Now she's a freelance journalist, Web Editorial Assistant at Saveur.com, and a student at the Institute for Culinary Education. She's on an endless quest to eat the most unusual foods NYC has to offer.

Love hamburgers? Then you'll Like AHT on Facebook! And go follow us on Twitter while you're at it!

[Photographs: Sam Levison]

two8two Bar & Burger

282 Atlantic Ave., Brooklyn NY 11201 (map); 718-596-2282; two8twoburger.com
Cooking Method:Griddled
Short Order: Not reinventing the wheel, but a delicious burger nonetheless
Want Fries with That? if you insist; they're nothing special and the rings are a bit better
Price: Billy Burger, $7.50; Lamb Burger, $12; Burger and Fries Lunch Special, $8; fries, $3; onion rings, $4

Between Mel's and Bill's (and countless other joints with less personal names), New York City has no shortage of burger bars—fast and simple restaurants that deal exclusively in reasonably priced burgers and craft beers on tap. The average burger bar tends to serve fine, if not revelatory, fresh-ground hamburgers that get the job done, but rarely catch the attention of serious burger fans. These joints have become so ubiquitous that diners, myself included, have come to assume that they are all the same.

A small bar in Cobble Hill, however, seems committed to breaking this cycle. At first glance it seems standard: the interior is distinctively bar-like and the eccentric beers (Arrogant Bastard Ale, Sixpoint Diesel Stout) are still present. Yet two8two Burger is quietly transcending the burger bar stereotype one patty at a time.

Two8two starts taking other burger bars back to school with its beef. Their house blend, ground daily by local butcher Los Paisanos, is coarse, very fatty, and packed gently into plump five-ounce patties. Although the menu provided no specifics about the blend, I figure it must incorporate some short rib or brisket along with the chuck to add fat and deepen the flavor.

On my visit, I opted for the Billy Burger ($7.50), which features cheddar cheese, grilled onions and the mayo-based two8two sauce (à la Big Mac). I placed my order with Taylor, the friendly bartender, and patiently awaited its arrival. The burger appeared in less than ten minutes. The patty sat perfectly atop a butter-toasted Martin's Potato Roll (never a mistake) with a heap of well-browned onions hiding a slice of cheddar cheese. Although all of two8two's burgers come medium by default, I ordered mine medium-rare and the kitchen delivered with a pink inside and well-seared outside. Slicing into it, a small slick of juice leaked from the patty, but most of the fatty goodness remained within.

My first bite evoked what I like to call the Jules Winfield reaction: "Mhm, this is a tasty burger!" The flavors proceed in a sequence that I consider nearly ideal. The meat hits first with a flavorful punch of a well-seasoned flattop-given crust, followed by more complex beefy notes from the high quality blend. Next, the onions, cheese, and mayo cut through the patty's flavor; this tangy trio tends to make even the weakest burgers palatable and here they enhance an already great base. Finally, the toasted potato roll delivers a buttery finish, like icing on the burger cake. There's nothing particularly groundbreaking about this type of cheeseburger—it merely works flawlessly. Despite being perfectly content with my order, I kept envisioning how add-ons such as poblano chiles, bacon, and fried eggs could only augment my experience. The burger, though it disappeared faster than I would have liked, was filling and wholly satisfying.

Unfortunately, the second burger I tried was much less impressive. The Lamb Burger ($12) is not necessarily bad, but it fails to justify its price tag. While it boasted with a pretty crust (the cooks work wonders on the flattop) and a dollop of impressive house-made tzatziki, the burger was only okay. Cooked past the requested medium-rare, the patty was still somewhat juicy, but its flavor ultimately suffered from an excess of dried spices and bits of onion mixed in with the patty. I would recommend sticking to the beef offerings, which deliver much better flavor for dollars less.

I hoped two8two's fried sides would be impressive meal additions, yet they were merely okay in light of the delicious burger. The fries ($3) are skin-on, likely frozen spuds that are cooked until crispy (though they look a bit pale) and sufficiently salted. Not bad, but immediately forgettable.

The onion rings ($4), on the other hand, fared a bit better. Beer battered and thick cut with a mild onion flavor, the rings win the fried side contest against the standard french fries. Still, a good pint might be single essential side for any of two8two's burgers.

While two8two may not be changing the hamburger game anytime soon, its standard beef burger exceeds all expectations for a simple neighborhood spot. The burger boasts a notable blend and impressive execution that should put a smile on the face of even the most jaded burger enthusiast. What's more, the low-key environment and friendly service sure beats Shake Shack or another highly trafficked NYC burger destination. Now if only I lived in the neighborhood...

About the author: Sam Levison is a college student, food TV lover, and kinda wishes Big Kahuna Burger were a real thing.

Love hamburgers? Then you'll Like AHT on Facebook! And go follow us on Twitter while you're at it!