Bar Artisanal

Bar Artisanal might be the one. This, dear reader, is precisely why this society is formed. Expectations were low. The large, designy dining room was empty, save for the masses of staff milling about. What few customers were there were not of our ilk; the hostess hemmed and hawed about seating us without a reservation. A few minutes at the bar and she managed to locate one of the dozens of empty tables for us. Dressed like the dickheads we are, we received shockingly good service from the bar, the waitstaff, the bus boys and whatever else the throngs of staff are. It's a new restaurant, we figured, it's empty we figured, they can't afford not be all over us, we figured. But, before eight, it was pretty packed, and although this would normally upset me greatly, it pleases me to know that they will almost certainly be around for a while.

Boasting a cheesebar that, um, has a helluva lot of fancy cheese that I know nothing about this was an atypical experience for burger club. They also had fried cheese, I know a little something about that. You can pick any of the cheesebar cheeses to cheeseup your burger.

The burger is fantastic. This is a burger you could eat with a wooden spoon and no teeth. The goddamn thing just melts in your mouth. This burger is as close to perfection as I have seen. I lost my score card, and I don't care, because it scored high, very high. I think the only category that it didn't score hgih was the "giving me three burgers so I can keep eating them" category which I just made up. It a month ago and I'm actualy salivating right now. The fries were great, delicious, crispy and just the right amount of a little too much salt.

For the last three burger club adventures all three of us, at some point, have said, "Let's just go back to Bar Artisinal." Good golly that was a good burger.

Sheep Station (THEY'VE GOT POUTINE)

For you poor culturally deficient bastards who don't know what poutine is: a heap of fries covered in cheese curds and smothered in gravy. It hails from Quebec, unlike juggling (Quebec's other notable cultural artifact), it isn't stupid, it isn't paid for by the government and almost no one outside of Canada knows what it is where to find it. There are a few places in New York that will indulge my poutine desire, all of which seem to be (at least) co-owned by a Canadian.

The poutine was not the only culinary curiosity. The burger came with a slew of exotic toppings, a beet, pineapple slice, and a fricken fried egg. I thought they were optional. I was extremely upset to find an egg dropped across my delicious burger, but, due to my otherwise calorie deficient meal (poutine+ several black and tans), I felt I should eat the burger, as presented, with the fired egg. You know, for health. And it was good. Fried eggs on foods have never applied to me (in France, they served pizza with a barley cooked egg on top, they called it "Le Cyclopse" (that's french for The Cyclops)). Anyhoo, all those things on the burger? Delicious. The burger? Delicious. The poutine? Didn't you read the first bit?! Delicious.

It's unfortunate that I lost my scorecard, because they'd get a pretty good score. This is not the best burger I've had on my magical journey, but it does have the most interesting toppings, and for christ's sake they have poutine. The beers were great, the black and tans poured perfectly and a large selection of Quebecois beers available. They even had a beer float! A scoop of vanilla ice cream in a goblet of La Terrible (French for The Terrible). Can you even imagine? A beer float!

Molly's Shebeen

Driven away by the 45+ minute lineup at Shake Shack we strolled a few blocks away to our backup: Molly's Shebeen. Molly's makes the believable claim that it's the most traditional Irish bar in New York. The selection of beer, although limited, is certainly very Irish and very delicious.

It's a dark, cavernous bar, you need to go down a few steps to enter. The few lights there are are orange. The floor is covered sawdust. This is strange. Regulars perch on the bar swilling back pints of Kilkenny's, Guinness, Harp and Smithwick's.

The service was very prompt, and the food delivered quickly. The burger was quite large, I suspect bigger than the 10 oz. they describe on the menu. It took a few bites to overcome my fears of an overcooked burger, but it was quite juicy and pink in the center (although hard to tell through what little orange lighting there was). The burger did have quite a well-done crust though, a bit peculiar, but it did lock in the beefiness, the juices and the flavor. The burger did not stay together well, an attribute that gets more and more important with each burger I attempt to stuff in my gullet. It was a surprisingly beefy tasting burger, not overwhelmed by the cheese, onions, lettuce (lettuce can't overwhelm very well, maybe only air?), tomato, and the obligatory ketchup and mustard. The bun was not memorable, the fries decent and plentiful. Overall this was a tasty burger, certainly better than average, but nothing special.

One of my fellow adventurers was horribly ill the next day. I felt great. It was a large burger and a lot of food, with a few pints I felt quite full and not quite right for a little while after, but experienced nothing resembeling food poisoning. My burger was also medium rare, because I like meat, not medium well like his because he's an idiot.

It's a good bar with decent, but not great food. The Waterfront Alehouse is only a few blocks away.