Burger, Pittsfield, Massachusetts

Update: Burger closed for good in September 2008.

I take my burgers seriously. By the same token, I’ll note the charms of In-N-Out Burger were lost on me the one time I had occasion to try a double double, which I know calls my burger street cred into question in some circles. This gastronomic lapse notwithstanding, my personal gold standard includes Bartley’s in Harvard Square, and O’Sullivan’s in Somerville, MA. Lanesboro’s Olde Forge serves a terrific burger as well, but there it’s mostly by way of accompanying their beer menu, for which any superlative is too faint praise.

Recently, The Lovely Wife, The Kid, and I visited Burger, the recently-opened spin off of Pittsfield’s Spice restaurant.

Burger’s decor called to mind an idealized fast food joint, with a central aisle for ordering, and a range of table, booth, and counter seating arrayed throughout a large, well-lit, and comfortable dining area. There were a few retro signs (a Coke-branded luncheonette sign, and other, similar adornments) hanging on the walls, but these were tastefully restrained, thematic accents rather than an indication of mistaking aggressive kitsch for design sensibility. Granted, the faux broken plaster and distressed brick near the back entrance was a bit cheesy, but I saw it as a sign of the pride the owners take in the work they have done renovating the building. That pride was apparent in the caliber of the service as well; from counter to table, it was efficient and friendly.

Now, the ideal burger must have a nice crust on the outside, while being rare and juicy on the inside. It should be mostly pink in the middle, but not so undercooked that the meat lacks texture. I’ll rarely say no to a nice slice of cheddar and a couple strips of crisp bacon on top of my burger, but when trying a new place, it’s best to let the sandwich speak for itself.

The Lovely Wife and The Kid chose to have their conversation with Burger’s Classic 1/4 Pound burger. TLW’s medium well burger was a bit overcooked for my taste, but that’s going to be true of any medium well burger anywhere. TK’s medium was more to my liking, as it held on to more of the beefy flavor that TLW sacrificed on the altar of doneness.

This being a special occasion, I opted for Burger’s Kobe burger. It came slightly less than the medium rare I ordered, which meant that the balance of juiciness to texture wasn’t where I prefer it to be, but it was still incredibly rich and flavorful. It was definitely worthwhile as both a curiosity and an indulgence, but ultimately, the classic burger acquits itself so well that there is little reason to indulge except to be indulgent.

While all the burgers were quite good, the real star of the show was the rolls. Most of the time, I take the roll — or the rye, in the case of a patty melt — for granted. It’s a mere container, a delivery system for the patty payload. If it’s doing its job, you don’t notice it. On either extreme however, the roll can make or break your burger. Bad bread can ruin an otherwise excellent slider. Great bread can elevate an average burger to heights undeserved on the merits of the meat itself. While Burger’s burgers are well above average, their rolls most definitely put them over the top.

The bread itself had a slight sweetness similar to a Portuguese roll. The inside was moist, with an almost steamed texture, while the outside was apparently finished on the grill, or on a grill press. The result was bread that adhered, almost melted into, the patty, while having a crisp texture on the outside.

For sides, we ordered plain french fries, chili cheese fries, and eggplant fries. TLW’s eggplant fries were the clear winner, and that’s coming from someone who usually prefers to avoid eggplant. They were light and crunchy without being greasy. The result was something that tasted like a glorious hybrid of french fry and onion ring.

The plain fries were nice (although next time, I might opt for the “dirty,” which I take to mean skin-on, variety), thick cut, crisp on the outside, fluffy on the inside. The only way these might be improved is by including a bottle of malt vinegar among the condiment options on each table. I’ve got nothing against good old ketchup, but chips this good and this substantial would be best with salt and vinegar.

The fries also served as a solid foundation for Burger’s chili cheese fries. The fries had the structural integrity required to support the mass of nicely flavorful chili, accompanied by straight-from-the-nozzle Technicolor orange processed cheese. Unfortunately, beside a hefty burger and a large milk shake, these fries were perhaps an exercise in undue optimism. They were very good, but more than I could handle. Next time, I believe I’ll opt for Burger’s sweet potato fries.

[Another suggestion: gravy for the fries, either alone, or as part of the classic gravy and cheese goo tandem affectionately known as Disco Fries.]

The shakes were merely all right. The consistency was nice — neither too milkily thin nor so thick you risk an aneurysm trying to suck it through the straw. I had a coffee shake, and the Lovely Wife and The Kid each opted for strawberry. Burger’s shakes weren’t overly sweet, which is nice. Too much syrup is often the unfortunate norm, and Burger avoided this pitfall. Our shakes were indeed coffee-esque and strawberry-ish, but I believe Burger accomplished this by using less syrup — and sacrificing flavor along with sweetness — rather than by using a syrup with a higher flavor to sweetener ratio.

For those for whom a burger just isn’t a burger without a cold beer alongside, Burger offered several varieties, as well as wine for more refined tastes. For those for whom wretched excess is an excellent starting place, Burger featured a range of spiked shakes that blend in various spirits along with the ice cream and other flavorings. The serving counter also boasted a tempting array of cookies, pastries, and other delectables for who prefer their decadence in solid, rather than liquid, form. I can offer no assessment of those, as we had a dessert date with some whoopie pies from Molly’s Bakery in North Adams (but that’s a story for another day).

Burger is located at 279 North Street in Pittsfield Massachusetts; 413-997-9797; www.eatatburger.com; open from 11:30 a.m. daily.

Presidential Courage, by Michael Beschloss

“Courage” may not be the correct term for Mr. Beschloss’s collection of presidential defining moments. His use of the word echoes John F. Kennedy’s Profiles in Courage, but I’m not convinced it is the correct description for the stories he tells. In some cases, he recounts cases of presidential pragmatism (as with Presidents Lincoln and Truman, and their respective decisions to make emanciaption a condition for ending the Civil War and to recognize the state of Israel at its founding), presidential willingness to pick a fight (as with President Jackson versus the Bank of the United States and President Theodore Roosevelt versus the trusts), and presidential being dragged kicking and screaming into bowing to the inevitable (President Kennedy’s slow response to civil rights).

As a result, the reader is left with the sense that leadership is a reactive, rather than a visionary, undertaking. If there is vision to be found, it is the purview of history and historians to bestow that quality.

Like You’d Understand, Anyway, by Jim Shepard

I go back and forth with short stories. Most of the time, I prefer longer form fiction. When I read short stories, I find that I’m too aware of the craft to really appreciate the application of the author’s tools. I get too engrossed in trying to determine the position of the mirror to appreciate the performance behind the illusion. In longer fiction, it’s usually easier to focus on the story first, and the structure later.

In the case of Jim Shepard’s latest collection of stories, I suffer that same problem. Reading the book, I was so wrapped up in the package, that I occasionally lost my appreciation of the contents. No matter, though, because Mr. Shepard can write the living @#$% out of a story. The technique and the precision are masterful. You get the steak and the sizzle, the flash and the substance. Actually, that’s not entirely fair. Flash and sizzle imply distraction from the content. In this case, it’s a question of mass and heft. It’s picking the apple off the tree, and knowing that the first bite will exceed the promise of the object in hand.

Read this book.

The Book of Fate, by Brad Meltzer

It’s goddamn Scooby Doo is what the problem is. The modern thriller is nothing more than a glorified cartoon in which a bunch of lucky amateurs — “meddling kids” if you will — unravel mysteries. These characters unearth clues, make lucky guesses, and draw wild inferences that reveal truths overlooked by experts.

In the case of The Book of Fate, the novel’s core Scooby Gang works out the real meaning of an assassination plot involving the President of the United States. Even allowing for the plot thread of a secret cabal within the nation’s intelligence establishment, the notion that investigators looking into such a crime would fail to examine essential evidentiary stones which would therefore lay unturned for years until conveniently uncovered by the main characters stretches credulity.