So the other week, trying to find high-end provisions for the fancy dinner, on a whim I turned into this place on an ugly stretch of an ugly main road because the sign says caviar and I figured they might also have truffles. Bingo. Now the truffles were not fresh, but in a jar, but they sure did the job. And in addition, they had the elk, foie gras, and a bunch of other stuff including U.S. Kobe beef (only ground, lamentably, but good for the wallet.) So I got a couple of Kobe burgers to see if they were any good; grinding such great meat seemed silly, but they weren’t very expensive, so what the hell.
So out of the freezer they come, and into a pan. On the adjacent burner, fingerling potatoes in smoked duck fat with garlic and rosemary. Next to that, shredded kale in a steamer. Once flipped, gruyère added to melt on the meat. Bread toasted. The suspense was palpable. Cheese melted? Check. Center pink? Check. Mustard, ketchup, and our new batch of gorgeous fuchsia kimchi (half red, half green cabbage.) Gentle pressure on top slice to compact and ooze the toppings. Bite. Chew. Smile. Damn good- very beefy. And smoky fatty spuds, and sweet silky-crunchy kale. And a 2002 Novy Page-Nord syrah, which is really not at all our taste any more, but it’s a good burger wine, and C likes ‘em big & fruity, like Tom Cruise. Worth the hype? Who knows, but it was a superior burger.