Beijing Boyce

A marathon session with our company’s annual report last week has the “YES, we’ve seen progress, BUT the following needs to happen” attitude oozing from my pores. In that vein, here’s part two in a three-part “yes, but” series on Beijing (check back here tomorrow for part three: “Yes, but I want a fapiao with my fries.”)

Eddie O: First He Brought The Bird, Then He Brought the Bun

YES, I suppose it’s absolutely fabulous that our city’s high-end eateries offer such fare as Roasted Marjoram-scented Medallions of Black Angus Tenderloin or Lightly Seared Foie Gras with Carmelized Apple and Teardrops of Clarified Chodofu Jus Misted with Essence of Maple Syrup and Dijon Mustard (I made up that tofu part, though chefs of Beijing are free to borrow). BUT, there seems to be a major gap between such lofty fare and your average roadside chuan’r stand. In other words, why is it so hard to find a decent burger?

True, you can find a burger at Kiosk, American Cafe or dozens of other places about town, but how about a spot where they’re made with flair, akin to those plump Beijing ducks cooked over red-hot coals? Imagine sliding a grill into that oven, slapping down a few burgers and cooking them medium rare (with a few duck drippings to boot)? Now, that would be something.

The best Beijing burgers I’ve had were those of ex-Mexican Wave guy Trevor Kuchar, who with his colleague Kenn put on some most excellent BBQs, on the Q Bar deck, last summer. Trevor got his meat from “the German butcher”, marinades it overnight, then cooks up burgers to perfection. Unfortunately, those BBQs are rare.

Given this, sometimes customers need to take matters into their own hands. There was a time when a certain Beijing bar figure named Eddie O liked the live music at Cheers, but loathed the bar’s lack of The Bird (Wild Turkey). This was easily solved — he bought the place a bottle and, when that was empty, another.

Eddie O has turned his attention to food. Last Friday, at high-end Italian joint Capone’s, he proclaimed his desire for a burger, an item absent from the menu. All evidence points to an animated discussion in which he promised to provide the bar, this coming Friday, with a bottle of Knob Creek Bourbon in exchange for the chef, Marco, putting aside the squid ink for a few minutes and making a burger. Eddie also offered to bring his own bun.

I called Eddie to investigate and he said, “I’ll be there with the bun at seven. I don’t care if they take steak tartar and turn into a burger, but I want something on that bread.”

Being the diligent sort, I visited Capone’s tonight (last night) and learned that, indeed, “Wild Turkey Man” had raved about burgers. This inspired the staff members to reflect: one noted the dearth of good burgers in Beijing, another drooled as he created an image for us of a patty topped with cheddar cheese slightly melted by fried mushrooms and onions, and yet another said that he makes the best hand-packed, three-quarter-inch-thick patties you could imagine. Given that Capone’s was fairly empty, I imagined the place full of people enjoying 65-kuai “gourmet” burgers and washing them down with plenty of drink.

In any case, on Friday night, Eddie shall appear there with his Knob Creek and his bun, and we shall see if this man, against all odds, can somehow bridge the gap between high-end eateries and that most basic, but nearly impossible to find in Beijing, of foods — the burger.

Note: The reference in the title to “corn-fed songbirds” comes from the “Today’s Special” chapter of David Sedaris’ book, “Me Talk Pretty One Day”:

[New York’s SoHo] is where the world’s brightest young talents come to braise carmelized racks of corn-fed songbirds or offer up their famous knuckle of flash-seared crappie served with a collar of chided ginger and cornered by a tribe of kiln-roasted Chilean toadstools, teased with a warm spray of clarified musk oil… What I really want is a cigarette, and I’m always searching the menu in the hope that some courageous chef has finally recognized tobacco as a vegetable. Bake it, steam it, grill it, or stuff it into littleneck clams, I just need something familiar that I can hold on to.

Compelled by the constant praise M-Dawg heaps on the place, three meals had I at American Cafe. His favorite, the Cobb salad, was a heavy hitter, the lineup including cubed chicken, sliced boiled egg, tomato, lettuce, bacon, blue cheese and black olives, among other ingredients. The spicy chicken wings were lackluster, though, and the hamburger drier than I remembered from my last visit some six months ago. But a big thumb up for the breakfast croissant with cheese (non-processed) and sides of fried potatoes, bacon and scrambled eggs. All in all, this place serves up solid food in the 35- to 40-kuai range and uses fresher ingredients than most.

(From Beijing Boyce XX, first emailed on July 13, 2006)

Light and airy, with pine furniture and a tile floor, the American Cafe is said rumored to have Beijing’s best burgers. It’s decorated with posters and prints with, um, eclectic themes. One side has Toy Story and the Muppets, the back has the all-too-predictable James Dean, Marilyn Monroe and Elvis Presley combo, while the front left has a black and white photo of Jackie Robinson stealing home during the 1955 World Series (nice!), among others. Anyway, the Boston burger (RMB40) came with fried mushrooms, cheese and bacon, plus tomato, onion, pickle and lettuce on a sesame bun. It was tasty, though the patty could have been firmer, and came with crispy fries seasoned with herbs. Said a dinner mate: “The Boston burger was quite satisfying in terms of size and flavor, even though (a) it appeared to have nothing to do with my hometown of Boston, and (b) had a little too much of that charcoal-grilled taste. That could be because I asked for it well done. Try it at 70 percent done (qi fen shou).” All in all, we were a satisfied crew and recommend giving the place a try.

(From Beijing Boyce VII, first emailed on December 29, 2005)