
It took crossing seven freeways to find my favorite new burgers
I consumed six burgers in the last seven days. One was wrapped in yellow paper on a restaurant patio in Eagle Rock that felt like a friend's backyard. Two were smash burgers with crunchy, lacy edges in a coffee shop in downtown El Segundo. I drove to Compton for double chili cheeseburgers. West to Santa Monica for a thick patty and east to South Pasadena.
In total, I clocked 204 miles on my Prius in pursuit of an excellent burger.
This is not something meant to elicit praise, surprise, disgust or a call from my gastroenterologist. It's what happens when I eat something spectacular, then fixate on it for days. Most of the time, that something spectacular becomes the subject of this column.
The accidental burger quest began in the patio of Cannonball in South Pasadena, with a cool breeze on my cheeks and the sound of the A Line train whizzing by, its tracks just beyond the restaurant's perimeter. The burger was familiar, a compact concoction of meat, cheese and bun that chef Matt Molina first introduced at Everson Royce Bar a decade prior.
At Cannonball, Molina's new restaurant with partner Joe Capella, the two built the sprawling two-story restaurant around the burger.
'We thought this restaurant should be anchored by a burger that you can eat and not feel self-conscious about while you're sitting at a bar,' Molina says. 'Simple and compact. We'll do the burger, and the rest we'll figure out.'
It's a burger resplendent in its simplicity, with every component precise. The four-inch patty, four-inch bun, 3-millimeter-thick slice of Tillamook medium cheddar and spoonful of Dijonnaise are four individual triumphs. The prime chuck patty is pressed into a ring mold, seasoned with just salt and pepper and cooked on the hot griddle. Light pressure is applied to create a discernible crust. On top is a slice of cheese, cut at the restaurant to ensure the proper melt and ideal meat-to-cheese ratio.
The inside of the egg brioche is toasted in canola oil, releasing the butter in the bread and forming a crisp, French-toast-like layer on the bun. Just the bottom half is smeared with Dijonnaise. There is no lettuce, tomato or onion; nothing to interfere with the glorious sensation of an aggressively fatty and salty homogeneous bite.
In its fourth week of operation, there is already so much to fixate on at Cannonball. Molina's biscuits, flaky, tender and impeccable, also make an appearance on the menu. But the burger ($23), accompanied by a cylinder of uncomplicated French fries, is a great place to start.
The thick patty reigns at Jeremy Fox's Santa Monica restaurant Birdie G's, with a heft that will require the full extension of your jaw. It's satisfyingly heavy in the hand, a burger that commands the attention of a full meal.
'I wanted it to be as special as possible, so we tested out a bunch of different cuts of beef,' Fox says. 'We do a lot of quality control and taste testing every day.'
The Birdie Burger that appears on the menu is the 19th iteration.
Fox landed on a blend of prime brisket and chuck, coarsely ground in house and formed into eight-ounce patties with a fat percentage that hovers around 25%. He seasons the meat with salt and the restaurant's own Montreal steak rub, with plenty of dried onion and garlic. It's a patty with the depth and marbling of a nice rib-eye, cooked over a blend of almond wood and charcoal.
A slice of melted havarti envelops the meat in a creamy layer of mild, buttery cheese that hangs over the edges of the burger. Fox makes a condiment he dubs Al's steak sauce, named for his grandfather, who was fond of A1. With tamarind, Worcestershire and plenty of onions, the sauce helps coax out the wood smoke in the meat. A caramelized onion jam cooked down with Manischewitz wine is the right amount of sweet. Thinly sliced raw white onion and dill pickles bring the flavors into focus, ensuring nothing feels too heavy.
It's a meat and cheese tower book-ended by a butter-toasted milk bread bun, made specifically for the restaurant by Petitgrain Boulangerie.
'Birdie G's was always the place that should have had a burger, we just never got around to it,' Fox says. 'It's our number-one seller. We really put a lot of love into it.'
The burger is available on both the happy hour ($23) and dinner menus ($32 with fries), and also on the new brunch menu, that launches June 21.
The burgers at Addy Pool's tiny walk-up counter in Compton are designed to taste like they came from her home kitchen. It's the way she learned how to make burgers when she started working at the now-closed Three Bears Burgers in Vermont Vista as an eager 19-year-old in the early '90s.
Later, she perfected her technique at the Original Snack Shack in Central-Alameda, where she worked for more than two decades until the restaurant shuttered.
Last summer, she opened Mama's Snack Shack in the former Bludso's Bar & Cue space in Compton. The name is a nod to the nickname she earned from her customers at the Original Snack Shack.
'Everyone calls me mama,' Pool says. 'It's a sign of respect for being so many years in the community. And the respect I give to everybody.'
Pool offers a short menu of beef burgers, turkey burgers, hot dogs and fries. There's the option to add bacon, a hot link or pastrami to any sandwich, but to appreciate what Pool does best, order the cheeseburger.
Her burger patties are just over a quarter pound of chuck meat, seasoned with a blend she grinds and mixes herself. She forms the patties by hand, each one with its own shape and character. The cheese is American, the bun fresh and appropriately bready. Think soft rather than squishy.
'My bun goes straight on the grill, with no butter or anything,' she says. 'You have to be able to taste the seasoning in my meat.'
Rather than a variation on Thousand Island, what's become the go-to spread for burgers across the city, Pool adds a dollop of hot pepper relish to her burgers. It's a condiment that adorned the burgers at both the Original Snack Shack and Three Bears Burgers. She's tweaked the recipe over the years, with the current version having a smidgen more heat. It's sweet but not overpowering, with both dill and sweet relish and a kick from crushed pepper flakes and chile paste.
The double cheeseburger requires a commitment, prompting a likely nap shortly after. Thoughtfully and smartly constructed, she layers the first patty cheese side down on the bun, then a middle layer of lettuce, diced onion and relish (tomato if you ask, but I have feelings about tomato on a burger and didn't) in the middle, then the second patty, cheese side up.
The construction guarantees even bites, with no spillage out the back.
The double chili cheeseburger ($9.35) is less refined, the backyard burger of your dreams drowned in a savory chili seasoned with lots of black pepper, garlic and Pool's secret blend of spices.
'We make the chili and everything else every single day,' she says. 'We make the fries to order. Every product I have is fresh. I tell my customers that the only old thing in the kitchen is me.'
Depending on the hour of day, you'll find a small group of Pool's family at the restaurant. During my last visit, two grandchildren were playing in the parking lot while her daughter and niece were in the kitchen. She also employs her son and nephew.
'In order to keep the prices down and keep the doors open, all my family have jobs and come help me,' she says. ' I want to make sure that everybody is able to buy a burger from me and not say it's too expensive.'
The cheeseburgers at Mama's Snack shack are $5.50 for a single and $8.60 for a double.
'I love making burgers, it's my passion,' she says. 'It's the person I am. That, and my faith in my customers keep my doors open.'
A little faith, and the cheeseburgers.
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4 hours ago
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It took crossing seven freeways to find my favorite new burgers
I consumed six burgers in the last seven days. One was wrapped in yellow paper on a restaurant patio in Eagle Rock that felt like a friend's backyard. Two were smash burgers with crunchy, lacy edges in a coffee shop in downtown El Segundo. I drove to Compton for double chili cheeseburgers. West to Santa Monica for a thick patty and east to South Pasadena. In total, I clocked 204 miles on my Prius in pursuit of an excellent burger. This is not something meant to elicit praise, surprise, disgust or a call from my gastroenterologist. It's what happens when I eat something spectacular, then fixate on it for days. Most of the time, that something spectacular becomes the subject of this column. The accidental burger quest began in the patio of Cannonball in South Pasadena, with a cool breeze on my cheeks and the sound of the A Line train whizzing by, its tracks just beyond the restaurant's perimeter. The burger was familiar, a compact concoction of meat, cheese and bun that chef Matt Molina first introduced at Everson Royce Bar a decade prior. At Cannonball, Molina's new restaurant with partner Joe Capella, the two built the sprawling two-story restaurant around the burger. 'We thought this restaurant should be anchored by a burger that you can eat and not feel self-conscious about while you're sitting at a bar,' Molina says. 'Simple and compact. We'll do the burger, and the rest we'll figure out.' It's a burger resplendent in its simplicity, with every component precise. The four-inch patty, four-inch bun, 3-millimeter-thick slice of Tillamook medium cheddar and spoonful of Dijonnaise are four individual triumphs. The prime chuck patty is pressed into a ring mold, seasoned with just salt and pepper and cooked on the hot griddle. Light pressure is applied to create a discernible crust. On top is a slice of cheese, cut at the restaurant to ensure the proper melt and ideal meat-to-cheese ratio. The inside of the egg brioche is toasted in canola oil, releasing the butter in the bread and forming a crisp, French-toast-like layer on the bun. Just the bottom half is smeared with Dijonnaise. There is no lettuce, tomato or onion; nothing to interfere with the glorious sensation of an aggressively fatty and salty homogeneous bite. In its fourth week of operation, there is already so much to fixate on at Cannonball. Molina's biscuits, flaky, tender and impeccable, also make an appearance on the menu. But the burger ($23), accompanied by a cylinder of uncomplicated French fries, is a great place to start. The thick patty reigns at Jeremy Fox's Santa Monica restaurant Birdie G's, with a heft that will require the full extension of your jaw. It's satisfyingly heavy in the hand, a burger that commands the attention of a full meal. 'I wanted it to be as special as possible, so we tested out a bunch of different cuts of beef,' Fox says. 'We do a lot of quality control and taste testing every day.' The Birdie Burger that appears on the menu is the 19th iteration. Fox landed on a blend of prime brisket and chuck, coarsely ground in house and formed into eight-ounce patties with a fat percentage that hovers around 25%. He seasons the meat with salt and the restaurant's own Montreal steak rub, with plenty of dried onion and garlic. It's a patty with the depth and marbling of a nice rib-eye, cooked over a blend of almond wood and charcoal. A slice of melted havarti envelops the meat in a creamy layer of mild, buttery cheese that hangs over the edges of the burger. Fox makes a condiment he dubs Al's steak sauce, named for his grandfather, who was fond of A1. With tamarind, Worcestershire and plenty of onions, the sauce helps coax out the wood smoke in the meat. A caramelized onion jam cooked down with Manischewitz wine is the right amount of sweet. Thinly sliced raw white onion and dill pickles bring the flavors into focus, ensuring nothing feels too heavy. It's a meat and cheese tower book-ended by a butter-toasted milk bread bun, made specifically for the restaurant by Petitgrain Boulangerie. 'Birdie G's was always the place that should have had a burger, we just never got around to it,' Fox says. 'It's our number-one seller. We really put a lot of love into it.' The burger is available on both the happy hour ($23) and dinner menus ($32 with fries), and also on the new brunch menu, that launches June 21. The burgers at Addy Pool's tiny walk-up counter in Compton are designed to taste like they came from her home kitchen. It's the way she learned how to make burgers when she started working at the now-closed Three Bears Burgers in Vermont Vista as an eager 19-year-old in the early '90s. Later, she perfected her technique at the Original Snack Shack in Central-Alameda, where she worked for more than two decades until the restaurant shuttered. Last summer, she opened Mama's Snack Shack in the former Bludso's Bar & Cue space in Compton. The name is a nod to the nickname she earned from her customers at the Original Snack Shack. 'Everyone calls me mama,' Pool says. 'It's a sign of respect for being so many years in the community. And the respect I give to everybody.' Pool offers a short menu of beef burgers, turkey burgers, hot dogs and fries. There's the option to add bacon, a hot link or pastrami to any sandwich, but to appreciate what Pool does best, order the cheeseburger. Her burger patties are just over a quarter pound of chuck meat, seasoned with a blend she grinds and mixes herself. She forms the patties by hand, each one with its own shape and character. The cheese is American, the bun fresh and appropriately bready. Think soft rather than squishy. 'My bun goes straight on the grill, with no butter or anything,' she says. 'You have to be able to taste the seasoning in my meat.' Rather than a variation on Thousand Island, what's become the go-to spread for burgers across the city, Pool adds a dollop of hot pepper relish to her burgers. It's a condiment that adorned the burgers at both the Original Snack Shack and Three Bears Burgers. She's tweaked the recipe over the years, with the current version having a smidgen more heat. It's sweet but not overpowering, with both dill and sweet relish and a kick from crushed pepper flakes and chile paste. The double cheeseburger requires a commitment, prompting a likely nap shortly after. Thoughtfully and smartly constructed, she layers the first patty cheese side down on the bun, then a middle layer of lettuce, diced onion and relish (tomato if you ask, but I have feelings about tomato on a burger and didn't) in the middle, then the second patty, cheese side up. The construction guarantees even bites, with no spillage out the back. The double chili cheeseburger ($9.35) is less refined, the backyard burger of your dreams drowned in a savory chili seasoned with lots of black pepper, garlic and Pool's secret blend of spices. 'We make the chili and everything else every single day,' she says. 'We make the fries to order. Every product I have is fresh. I tell my customers that the only old thing in the kitchen is me.' Depending on the hour of day, you'll find a small group of Pool's family at the restaurant. During my last visit, two grandchildren were playing in the parking lot while her daughter and niece were in the kitchen. She also employs her son and nephew. 'In order to keep the prices down and keep the doors open, all my family have jobs and come help me,' she says. ' I want to make sure that everybody is able to buy a burger from me and not say it's too expensive.' The cheeseburgers at Mama's Snack shack are $5.50 for a single and $8.60 for a double. 'I love making burgers, it's my passion,' she says. 'It's the person I am. That, and my faith in my customers keep my doors open.' A little faith, and the cheeseburgers.


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