Burgers for the Boy

I’ve been sick this past week, and soup did no good for this succulence seeking soul. I needed to carb up, Bro. It’s a risky thing eating next to nothing a near week and then having the gull- no, no, making the conscience choice- to seek out the kind of sustenance that could either put the bench presses back in my gym routine or make me another kind of sick. That said, I’m willing to bet the latter is more likely, mainly because I’ve never been to a gym in my life. There is, however, one kind of place I frequent more than I’d like to admit, which certainly can make any Baldwin or Betty meet their carbohydrate requirements.

You’d think the burger place would have me jaded by now. How many have I reviewed? How many have I complained about? Snaps. I complained briefly about burgers a few posts ago, but when carb cravings hit you, carb cravings hit you, and nothing satisfies more than deep fried, stuff your face, can’t breathe fixings. And, I admit it, there was still a place I had my meat eating eye on. Hey, I heard things; anyway, by now my hamburger restaurant reviews have been pretty underwhelming, so I figured what’s one more potentially sub-par review?

Frat Burger has been getting a questionable buzz. Maybe because it’s located across Wilfrid Laurier University and the fraternity mindset is a questionably easy marketing ploy in them there parts, but that’s all the cheap fraternity jokes I’ll attempt to make. For all we know, dear readers, Frat Burger could be the burger golden boy this town needs. The grindhouse guild all the best brothers want to be affiliated with (last frat allusion). Either way, I would be the judge of that.

Let me first set a cynical, anachronistic, and unimaginative stage, larger than expected, corrupted with time-honoured movie posters, a beer bar, chalk boards, neon signs, televisions on sport channels, stools, those old swollen plastic chairs that have sparkles in the fabric and steel legs. I could go on. Everything you could possibly imagine in a sports theme eatery Frat Burger does well to reproduce. Did I mention the wooden booths? Why? Perhaps to move customers in and out quickly? Although I can’t imagine Frat Burger thinking like a cramped Japanese Ramen shop. How about the industrial ceiling? Aw, yes. I could certainly go on. But you understand the platitude of the place even if you haven’t visited it. You’ve lived long enough, and watched enough television. Don’t fret. I didn’t say I didn’t like it. It has the ambiance it needs.

But what I love about Frat Burger is the food. The simple menu, the uncomplicated choices, the burgers and the fries and nothing else. Okay, some poutine too. And drinks. But nothing else. That’s it! The choice is easy! The portions worthwhile. I’m always a stickler for price. You all know I am. 4.99 for a plain burger may seem somewhat pricey. Extras like sauces and cheeses (one extra dollar) and bacon fixings (a comparable 1.25) can certainly add up. But when it does, it still isn’t that much. The most expensive item on the menu is a 6.99 Portobello mushroom cap burger with thin bun; the vegetarian burger, a quinoa, lentil bean base, 4.99 too. Of course, if you purchase fries with your ground sandwich there’s some lax. A huge serving can be a mere 7 dollars before tax. But the price alone isn’t what won me over, oh no.

Seated charily by the help, I was offered a beer to start, but declined, having expressed my marked discomfort of getting over a bad cold like a bad breakup. Whiskey was the next suggestion, and though I felt the waitress was a woman after my own, potentially alcoholic, heart at one in the afternoon, I expressed that water would have to suffice. Next, we talked burger. I yearned, for whatever reason, for the soy based savoury sensation of a vegetarian burger, but was stopped there to be told about the vegetarian option. No fakers at Frat Burger, unfortunately for me. Hey, sometimes processed can be damned good. So I settled for that dear ground round, smothered in guacamole and guyere cheese, accompanied with pickles, tomatoes, lettuce and, of course, fries. Low and behold, that was all I was gonna need.

Settled in front of me in a basket with brown wax paper was a palm sized burger in a soft white bun, and a whole lot of fries. It wasn’t too disconcerting. The more I thought someone was pulling the one over on me, the more I thought I could work with. I picked up the burger, and though the size intrigued me, I soon forgot about the burger being the size of my tiny hands, because I had already bitten in. The lettuce a little limp, the guacamole a little bland, and the guyere a little dry, I thought nothing of it all, the chucked paddy being a spectacle for any eater. Pure ground beef dripping clear with juices, not fat, and a flesh that was pink inside made me wonder just what was going on? The paddy was enough on its own, sharing the characteristics of a medium well steak, the meat needed no spice, no seasoning. It was firm, it was moist, it absolutely melted. Or maybe it was me.

I was always afraid to cook a burger like this, but I was glad someone had the cuts to keep that raw, yet paradoxically fresh flavor. Sure, I didn’t like the idea of kids in sweats cooking my food, but it was so good I didn’t care. Before I knew it, like some sirloin spirit, it was gone.

Nothing was left but a basket of fries cooked to a deep golden brown. My only qualm may have been the flaccid character that accompanied them. The element of crunch was a simple memory of all the fries of my yesteryear, but the bold starchy flavor was still there, smothered in salt, and all the collected flavours that came together in a clean deep fryer. But even after, I was still dreaming about my burger. It’s a huge claim to say that Frat Burger offers the best burger I’ve had in town, but even as I type this, I’m still willing to stand by it.

Frat Burger

519.954.FRAT (3728)

1a & 1b- 247 King St. N,

Waterloo, ON

N2J 4V2

Mon-Wed: 11:00 am- 1:00 am

Thu- Sat: 11:00 am- 3:00 am

Sun: 11:00 am- 1:00 am

Cash, or credit. No debit.

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