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There was no question in my mind after biting into the Lair of Minotaur burger from Kuma's Corner at a time when I'd normally be crawling into bed that it was worth the two hours wait for it to make it across my plate. But--as I told my host--it remained to be seen whether it would be worth the two hours of indigestion afterwards. I'm only halfway through my workday, but so far the answer is a definite "Yes!" My only regret is that the third I didn't eat got cleared before it could make it into my bag; a bite or two now would do wonders to cement my confidence.
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his_regard is spot on in saying that the pretzel buns are the "unsung stars of this burger", since even the less baroque combinations would be unthinkable without their perfect marriage of strength and softness. But it takes more than one kind of integrity to hold a sandwich together and, with a lesser sauce, mine would've been just a pile of stuff. To avoid making that two hours three or four, I had go for one of the mildest alternatives, but that's where I think the craftmanship shines the most. After all, if the heat's at 11, it doesn't matter so much if the smoke's at 9 and the sweetness is at 3.
My perfidious digestion also prevented me from ordering anything alcoholic, which is a damn shame given the breadth of their beer list. (They even offer a top-notch scrumpy!) But I was kept free of temptation by our decision to stand out in the open air rather than packing ourselves in next to the bar. It was such a glorious night, in fact, that I walked all the way from Damen. (And still arrived before any westbound 77 bus would've, fuckyouverymuch, CTA!) Good god, how I've missed doing that! Whoever described the recent climatic shift as "the return of walking weather" was totally on the money.
his_regard is spot on in saying that the pretzel buns are the "unsung stars of this burger", since even the less baroque combinations would be unthinkable without their perfect marriage of strength and softness. But it takes more than one kind of integrity to hold a sandwich together and, with a lesser sauce, mine would've been just a pile of stuff. To avoid making that two hours three or four, I had go for one of the mildest alternatives, but that's where I think the craftmanship shines the most. After all, if the heat's at 11, it doesn't matter so much if the smoke's at 9 and the sweetness is at 3.My perfidious digestion also prevented me from ordering anything alcoholic, which is a damn shame given the breadth of their beer list. (They even offer a top-notch scrumpy!) But I was kept free of temptation by our decision to stand out in the open air rather than packing ourselves in next to the bar. It was such a glorious night, in fact, that I walked all the way from Damen. (And still arrived before any westbound 77 bus would've, fuckyouverymuch, CTA!) Good god, how I've missed doing that! Whoever described the recent climatic shift as "the return of walking weather" was totally on the money.