Is the $33 Black Label burger in New York the best in America?
No cheese. Lots of effort.
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.The late Anthony Bourdain had a handful of unbreakable rules when it came to creating the perfect burger.
Perhaps his most important, and most widely agreed upon commandment, was that the perfect burger should not be laden with too many toppings. Burgers should go in your mouth, not down your shirt, was the thinking.
This writer would agree; there should no tolerance in the food world for those towering greasy Jenga puzzles, within which an underdone onion ring balances on top of Portobello mushroom, which, in turn, is slowly gliding off a beef patty on a mudslide of spicy mayo.
At Minetta Tavern, the dimly lit, clubby bistro in Manhattan's West Village, the $33 Black Label burger is, perhaps, the finest example of fast food simplicity writ large; for the hefty price tag you get a bun, a beef burger, and some onions.
Would this completely satisfy the great food explorer? Perhaps not - the ideal burger demands cheese, he once said, processed cheese at that - and there's not slice of Kraft in sight at this West Village bistro.
They will, on request, crown it with a slice of cheddar at no extra cost, I'm told. Which, given it costs the equivalent of about 25 quid, isn't quite an act of kitchen kindness. However, we're encouraged to try it as the chef intended.
It arrives on a huge plate, embraced by a gigantic semi-circle of so-so fries.
Served medium-rare at our request, the meat's crisp and surprisingly thick crust gives way to a dense soft centre, and unleashes an umami-laden, almost barnyard taste and aroma which comes, in-part, from the extensively dry-aged ribeye that's in the patty mix, along with skirt steak and brisket.
A few bites in, and you're experiencing that almost cartoonishly beefy flavour you get on beef crisps - that distilled, salty essence of the perfect Sunday roast and gravy.
There are all sorts of things that the kitchen team took into account to create the burger, and tales abound online of wine-tasting style sessions where the chef sampled an array of beef blends before finding The One. It's cooked at a lower temperature than other burgers too, to allow the heat to penetrate the thick crust that quickly develops, without burning the burger.
The onions on top have been rendered down, almost to the level you'd find acting as the base for an onion soup. Their flavour sits in the background, to some extent, their most important role being to add some of the melty, gooey texture in place of the cheese.
It's served in its own custom bun - a sesame seed-studded brioche which has had the sweetness toned down. It's sliced ahead of time to allow its open faces to become just a touch stale, to better stand up to the meat's juices.
It's an immense level of attention to detail.
When the burger first launched in 2009, it cost $26 and marked the peak of the Manhattan burger boom. It's crept up to $33, but it's not the only sticker shock on the menu.
A souffle, which we shared, was $20. Ice-cream on the side? Add another $9. The souffle was so mouth-coatingly rich that it was eventually necessary to plop spoonful after spoonful of ice-cream into the hole we'd jabbed in its dainty crust to dilute it enough to finish. This is not a criticism, this is a Very Good Thing. Elsewhere, a bottle of water cost $9, pricey for a bistro.
The wine list is another weak area, in our view. The Independent's wine writer Adrian Smith is treated like Apple's Siri by some members of our lifestyle team. A text to him, day or night, with a picture of a wine menu and a preferred dish, is responded to with a recommendation. The man does not appear to sleep.
In this instance, he was left grumpy. "Oh dear," he responded to our request at Minetta. "Don't get your hopes up. I call this a 'trying too hard' wine list. Fancy names from old school regions, massive price tags, none of which are exceptionally good for the money you're paying."
In the end, he picked the Côtes de Provence Rouge, excited to show us how Provence creates more than just outstanding rosé which - happily - was the cheapest option on the menu at $48.
Almost 10 years on, is it really the best burger you can buy? That's asking the wrong question. The allure of humble, classic, dishes like pizza, burgers and hot dogs comes from their simplicity, their accessibility, and typically, their associations with good, fun, low-key times.
My favourite hot dog is any one I can get my hands on at Citi Field while watching a Mets game after a few beers, my favourite pizza slice is served at the mini-chain closest to my subway stop alongside $5 beers, where I hole up after work in the winter.
So, right now, the best burger can be found at my cosy corner bar, which drips with cheese from a packet and has been blasted at high-heat by a sullen lone cook working on auto-pilot out back.
But for one of the most considered, pure, complex burgers you can buy, Minetta Tavern is worth a visit whether you're a local, or on holiday.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments