I don’t know if they’re necessarily “better.” Unique, maybe. Compact, certainly. I mean they’re better than a smack in the nuts or a poke from a big, sharp stick, but so are a lot of things. When you’re going to use a superlative, you really should just go for it and knock it up a notch and become Best Burger? I sense a little bit of an inferiority complex here. It could be their tiny patties. Those things are just not big. I’ve only gotten delivery from these guys, but the first time I ordered one of their turkey burgers, I could have sworn the thing shrunk in the sweltering humidity of the messenger’s bag. But, as I soon found out, what they lack in size is somehow made up for by density (or some kind of bizarro filler). I thought I was going to be starving after wolfing one of these shrimpy morsels, but was extremely surprised when my gut screamed ”no mas”–or at least ”soy bien, gracias.” My tasty nugget of a turkey burger was accompanied by a small-ish container of baked fries, which, if warm, might have been pretty good for not having been soaked and resoaked in a vat of animal fat for like hours. I’ve never had a cow burger at this joint, but maybe I’ll have to walk my ass over to the actual restaurant and get a fresh one right from the grill. There’s something oddly addictive about their stuff. Maybe it’s the weed these damn tree huggers, with their baked fries (an oxymoron, I know) and their whole wheat buns, put in every batch of ground meat. Or maybe they truly do make a better burger. [MF]
561 3rd Ave. (at E 37th)