[Pigging by Wilfrid: October 5, 2010]
So here it is, at last, the distinguished thing. Not often Henry James pops into one head when one reaches for a burger.
(Photo by kind permission of the ulterior epicure)
But those were the words singing inside my cranium as my Black Label burger was served at Minetta's bar a few evenings ago.
Now although those are the words James attributed to himself when he thought himself face to face with death (it was a stroke, and nobody was around to overhear his eloquence), I do not mean to imply that there's anything dangerous about the mighty Black Label patty. High in fat it might be - 70:30 lean/fat ratio, in fact - but I have always maintained that diets, not specific dishes, are healthy or unhealthy. Still, you wouldn't want to run for a bus after eating it.
At $26, a plateful of food is what you want, and the Black Label does come deluxe with predictably good McNally fries. The bun seemed unremarkable, and the patty is topped - without comment or question - with dark brown and gloopy caramelized onions.
The patty is legendary. Constructed, as experts will tell you, from skirt, brisket, short rib and a "secret" cut of dry-aged beef, this is the flagship blend of the city's burger supplier in chief, Pat LaFrieda. It's exclusively available, I believe, to the Minetta Tavern, and it is certainly dramatically different from LaFrieda burgers found elsewhere.
Unlike the burgers LaFrieda sells in packs on Fresh Direct (and which are certainly used at some restaurants boasting LaFrieda blend burgers), the Black Label patty is loose, rugged, and stands tall on the bun. I ordered medium rare; the crust was charred, the center correctly pink. After my first taste, I moved to scrape the onions away in the hope of tasting something else. Not feasible, as they'd welded themselves to the damp interior of the bun. They are cloyingly sweet and I'd advise you to hold them.
Through the onions, I could discern flavor - a remote but detectable funkiness presumably from the dry-aged component of the burger. People I've trust have said it tastes like a dry-aged steak. Maybe, is all I can say. It wouldn't have occurred to me. It's a curious flavor, but not as strong as I'd expected.
The truly notable thing is the texture. I have never eaten a burger with this kind of mouthfeel, which surely speaks to the high level of fat in the mix. It's soft. Very soft. You could take a flat knife and spread it like pâté. Hard to describe. Jelly-like would be an exaggeration - it doesn't wobble. For those of you who have tried the stuff, blancmange might be closer. Or a dense mousse. I guess steak tartare, but a high fat version.
I can't stress it enough. The texture is very unusual, and clearly there are those that love it. I didn't hate it, but I am kind of glad I don't have to try it again. I'll take a regular burger, thanks.
I sampled it, by the way, after a modest eight-to-ten minute wait for a bar-stool, mid evening on a weekday. You need to watch like a hawk, but the seats become available as drinkers move to tables. Why poor old Minetta's front room seems to have attracted countless drunken young Brits I don't know, but consider yourself forewarned.
