![]() It’s an idea, but it helps explain why, even before the Eater takedown, I’ve always used grandparent-like adjectives like “nice” and “wonderful” to describe the burger. I go simply because I like the place: it fits nicely under an umbrella of what I like to call old-school preppy bars. But I could conceivably go there and not get a burger and enjoy it just as much. Melon, I know that I’m going to a place that some carnivores consider holy ground. As a longtime fan of the place, I got plenty of texts and DMs to the tone of “Can you believe this guy?” To which I answered, Well, yeah, actually. The reaction I saw after Sutton dropped his piece was mostly eye rolls and people suggesting that he was trying to “pull a Wells” by going after such a well-known and beloved place like J.G. More recently, he went knives out at famed Brooklyn steakhouse Peter Luger and carved that place up like a rib eye. I let a little Ric Flair “Woooooo” when Pete Wells of the New York Times, the exemplar of the form, revisited Thomas Keller’s Per Se five years after the paper first awarded it four stars, handing it a lowly two. I’m usually a big fan of the slaughtering of sacred cows and then tossing the meat on the grill. Until earlier this month, at least, when Ryan Sutton at Eater tore down the iconic bar with a scathing review, saying that the “squishy white bun” was the best part of the meal. Melon was already written at the top, as if by magic. When somebody went to write a list of places to eat a patty with some cheese on it in Manhattan, J.G. Its status has just been agreed upon as fact. Just about any “Best of” list includes Melon, from Bon Appetit to Town & Country. Melon.” The tableau on any night you spend there looks like a modern retelling of a Damon Runyon story, which is to say that it is very, indelibly New York City.įor years, the Upper East Side spot has been hallowed ground for burger lovers. In The Andy Cohen Diaries, the TV mogul notes that “Jerry and I are perennially searching for the best burger in town and we keep coming back to J.G. On any night, you might catch a member of the Yankees, finance guys in Patagonia vests, Columbia students, tourists, Broadway stars on their way home and everyone in between. Michael Bloomberg loves it, as does Gigi Hadid (although, not as much as she used to). It’s one of those places that has gained institution status in Manhattan. Melon doesn’t really need another appreciation post. The bar will give you splinters, the music is good, they still have matchbooks and the best thing on the menu is the burger (Mike Falco for InsideHook) While I stopped going out of my way to find some old-school gem or try every regional variation when I traveled, I still made it a point that if I had to be on the Upper East Side for whatever reason that I’d stop at J.G. And that eavesdrop at Minetta was the moment it all went downhill for me and burgers. 2 I’ve said this about a million things, from whiskey to politics: nothing makes me learn to dislike something more than obsessive fans. The way they discussed the taste had the insufferable tone of record-store heads talking about why one Miles Davis album from the early-1970s is better than another. I once sat at Minetta Tavern in Manhattan and listened as a “burger club” sat next to me pitted the house version topped with cheddar and caramelized onions ($25) against the Black Label that is made out of dry-aged cuts and costs a few dollars more 1, breaking down every little flavor they “detected” like they were savoring the perfumed air of the Roseraie de L’Haÿ. The burger is something we’ve put too much thought into, and frankly, it’s taken the enjoyment out of eating them. The burger as a transcendent experience is a quest I’ve been hammering away at for the better part of two decades, and I’ve come up short of enlightenment every single time. None of them have brought me to tears, and a few downright sucked. I have had many burgers, and at the end of the day, most of them have been fine. I have driven to New Jersey to try the two White Manna locations in one day to decide for myself which is better. I’ve had burgers on the beach ( Rippers, baby!), at the top of a mountain, and once ate Shake Shack in a graveyard (long story). I’ve taken advice from sages (read: “best burger” lists on the Internet) and tried everything high and low. These proclivities meant my first stop in Japan was a Wendy’s, and a pilgrimage to a kosher McDonald’s in Israel was a must. I’ve had a Juicy Lucy in the Twin Cities and made the trek to New Haven to try Louis’ Lunch. I’ve walked through a frozen wasteland to get an Au Cheval and journeyed across the country to go Animal Style.
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