A few months back, my friends and I all bought Living Social coupons for 8oz Burger Bar. This place is so popular that when Groupon featured them a few months prior, the Groupons SOLD OUT. And that never happens. So we were like… gotta try this place!
We didn’t read the fine print that you can only use one coupon per table per visit, so we realize now that we’re going to have to eat there several times, in order to use all the coupons. Oops. About that.
Whit, Bea, and I met up for our first Burger-fest last night. Cole was supposed to come but he got all Anne-Hathaway-in-DEVIL-WEARS-PRADA on us (AKA he had to stay late at work), which prompted me to say, “I want to be Rich Sommer!”
All three of us got the Estancia Grass Fed Beef burger, which consists of… “heirloom tomato ketchup, garlic aioli, sliced tomato, onion, pickle, charred escarole, [and] roasted mushrooms.” (We all love mushrooms.) (FRIEND REQUIREMENT.)
You can’t really tell in this picture, but the burger was REALLY rare on the inside. Like, pink. Like, still mooing.
But we went with it.
Overall it was a tasty burger, although there was a note of smokiness, which is not really my thing. Mesquite, etc– no thanks. I think it might have been in the charred escarole (some sort of lettuce).
We got two sides– the truffled (is that a word?) potato skins, and the roasted baby broccoli. Our waiter warned us that ketchup would cover up the truffle flavor, but eventually we caved to the power of the ketchup. Truffle oil is okay, but ketchup improves everything. (As GOD once said: To truffle is human; to ketchup is divine.)
The truffled potato skins looked like flat french fries in person. In the photo, they look like an artery’s biggest nightmare:
Luckily we had the itty baby broccoli (broccolini?) to help even the score… maybe.
Driving home from the evening (which didn’t end here… but more on that later), I talked to my dad and mentioned that I’d been at 8oz Burger Bar. “Wow,” he said. “That’s a big burger.”
“No, eight ounces,” I said. “You know, a small number. Eight. Little burgers.”
“Eight ounces is half a pound,” my dad informed me. (He handed the phone to my mom, and she said the exact same thing.) (Married people!)
WHAT? I swear, the burgers looked so small in Living Social’s promotional material. And apparently I couldn’t identify a half pound burger with my EYES?! (This happened to me once before, when neighbor-Kyle and I cooked Greek burgers from a Rachel Ray cookbook.) (You think I’d learn.)
I guess it makes sense that the burgers were meatier than I realized, because by the time I got down to this last quarter I was sweatin’ it out. (I also thought I was getting sick, due to feeling cold (it was cold out) and a stomachache (I was hungry), so I was worried about being visited by the vomits.)
I ended up eating that. (And did not get sick, due to actual illness or over-fullness.)
In summary, I ate a full half pound of almost-raw cow meat.
But hey, it was grass fed!
As full as we were, we had to move to a second location. (Our waiter got Emily-Blunt-in-DEVIL-WEARS-PRADA frosty and was blasting us with hate rays, because he thought we weren’t going to tip him… but we were just waiting for our change.) (FOOL.)
(By the way, seeing as how the waiter was a guy… apparently all men are women in my DEVIL WEARS PRADA scenarios.) (AND I’M RICH SOMMER, BITCHES!) (Yes, he’s also Harry Crane on “Mad Men.”)
Um, okay, anyway. Tomorrow I will tell you about the second location, and the gluttony that ensued… and was a gift (from Bea) that keeps on giving, because I’m off to some “Glee”-viewing and [secret leftover food]-feasting.
Oh, and next time I’m totally trying the fried pickles. Because I’m a total Snooki.