#BestBurger Quest Continues

Could the Best Burger in the World be found in Seattle?  Is my

22 Doors is in a tres cool Seattle neighborhood, Capital Hill.  This area is replete with fine eateries.  That is a nonsense kind of sentence that makes a blog seem more erudite.  See, I can't stop.  Anyway, this a how it looks up here:


In Capital Hill, if a restaurant isn't legit, it will get short shrift from the discerning clientele.  22 Doors has the right feel for the area.  The decor is eclectic angst- chandeliers from an 80's vintage Hyatt, bedroom doors complete with mirrors flanking the bar, poorly painted tin tile ceilings, wonderful pained people in the paintings.  Here is a picture:

The problem with the decor was really just me.  I am too obtuse to be seduced by coolness.  I like that the owners try so hard, they care.  That is exciting.  But balance is everything.  Too much cool with too little quality- feeble and superficial.  Too much money for the experience- predatory.  Let's just see how this will play out.  Keep reading...

Just to get past it, the service was enthusiastic and friendly, not very professional, just the right number of tattoos and piercings.  So far, so good, we are in balance.

We all thought we would have a beer,  but though no one discussed it, I think the $12 hamburger and $9 beer prices may have dampened our enthusiasm.  What?  What's all this talk about unemployment?

So, this burger WILL be good...right?

We ordered our burgers at different levels of doneness, a good test.  They took a good long time, so you know they are making them with care.  They show up looking good, appetizing.  Really nice looking bread, well, heres another picture:

Niiiiccce...

So we dug in.  First, cut them in half.  Two medium, one rare, one med rare.  They all looked the same.  Med well.  Uh oh!

OK, but the truth is in the taste.  Chomp, savor, chew.  Mmmmm!  All were moist, juicy flavorful.  More Chewing.  MMmmmmm!  Very flavorful.  Yes indeed.  Tasty beef, real tasty.  Robert Mitchum, Sam Elliott tasty.  Right down to the bit of gristle I discovered, like the Baby Jesus figurine in a Buche Noel.  A providential sign that the meat is indeed ground in house.  The buns were very nice, crusty, firm.  Not too firm.  Caramelized onions really added to the flavor.  One of us didn't care for the really nice house made mustard sauce.  A burger purist, he insists mustard belongs on hot dogs, ketchup on burgers.  The tomato slices were actually good, so some care in selection was exerted.  But really, where is the freedom to dress our own burger? The individual expression of doneness?  Burger Fascists!

The ketchup? House made.  The chunks are tomatoes, not clots.  Just the right amount of sweet and tangy.  The fries were perfectly cooked.  Proper shoestrings.  Good things.

As you may know, I like balance.  When the meat is over, so it the burger.  This is what was left:

Lotsa bread.  But that may be intentional.  Lotsa bread for this this bread.  A freakin $12 burger??!!! Are you nuts?