Hey everyone! Did you hear the good news? Our good friend Steven Dolinsky got pink eye?
Yeah, he got a little too down with this:
Can’t really blame him, all those 8×10’s gotta get you some primo trim. Time to go find a Kinko’s. But enough about assholes, lets talk burgers.
Designer burger places are popping up like Cash 4 Golds these days. You can’t walk a block without some dude wearing a sandwich board offering you ten bucks for your fillings or choking on the ass-puckering smell of truffle oil and beef tallow. Fuddruckers be jelly. With so many options and so little time, it takes something very special to stand out.
Recognize: these motherfuckers are paramount: DMK Burger Bar
Why, you ask? Let us count the ways. Take our hands, burger virgins, as we walk you through the conveniently enumerated DMK menu. It’s burger nirvana. Lettuce watch the bunset as the wind gristles through your hair and pickles your senses. This menu is like the Kama Sutra: you might not admit it in public, but deep down want to try out every option. . . with a fried egg.
Feast your fat fucking eyes on these shits:
Errrr, not that, that’s for later…lets try it again:
Now that we have your attention, let’s go over a few things about DMK burgers. First, they’re not huge–they’re not cardiac arrest burgers. They are perfectly-balanced, glorious C-cups. Not unwieldy but still motorboatable. They’re perfectly at home served on saucers the size of Starr Jones’s aereolas. Second, they are made with grass-fed beef, et cetera, et cetera, jerk-off-motion, jerk-off-motion. These are adult burgers. They’re also served on insanely good potato buns that are soft and pillowy like a bear-endorsed Toilet Paper and dusted with enough flour it looks like Richard Pryor sneezed on the prep table.
But on to the burger at hand. Number nine, the Patty Melt, the burger of our dreams. It’s Smoked Bacon, Burnt Onions, Leroy’s Remoulade, and Smoked Swiss on Griddled Rye. Its got so much flavor that you almost don’t notice the bacon. Take a minute to let that sink in. Bacon usually stands out like Darius Rucker after a stage dive, but in this burger iteration, the rest of the ingredients are so tasty you almost forget its there.
You body doesn’t want this burger, you body needs it. There is a difference.
Overwhelming. This is the Shirley Hemphill of burgers: It a little too big, has a bad additude, and hates Rerun. Loosen up that belt. It’s unexpectedly thick, like Bishop Eddie Long‘s business at a Justin Bieber concert. By the way, the special sauce is thousand island.
Sweet potato fries get an undeserved bad rap these days. So many restaurants (*cough* Fountainhead *cough*) fuck em up beyond recognition. DMK, on the other hand, comes correct. Like Betty White, these little guys are crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside, with the perfect amount of sweetness. By default these guys come with a side of Lemon Tabasco Aioli. Honestly, we lose interest when you mention Tabasco. There are much more interesting hot sauces to choose from. Pro Tip: Ask for the Truffle Cream sauce as well. Dip, eat, repeat.
Also reminiscent of novelty vomit. But so good you’ll start pinky-dipping your dog’s throw-up just to see if it tastes like this.
They may be a few cheese curds away from poutinedom, but these gravy fries still come through thick. You don’t have to be a Canadian to appreciate the concept. DMK balances these fuckers perfectly. They don’t saturate the fries and still get a crunch, but with a meaty burst of beef gravy that’d make even Ghandi break his hunger strike.
Don’t tell the British.
It’s a gangbang of flavors – Big Bites (2009)
Aaah the #2. This burger is one of the old stand-by’s that will comfort you in even the most troubling times. Made up of Chili-Rubbed Onion Strings, Amish Blue, Spicy Chipotle Ketchup, this work of art will make you feel funny in your pants. . . in a good way. The combination of ingredients here is on point — smoky and tangy ketchup, crispy onions, pungent cheese, savory burger. We haven’t seen harmony like this since Bone Thugz dropped The Crossroads.
Let’s also save some room for #4 on the menu, the Roasted Hatch Green Chile, Fried Farm Egg, Sonoma Jack, and Smoked Bacon. Ladies and gentleman, may we introduce you to the least spicy chile burger ever conceived. Granted, we don’t default to hatch chiles for our heat, but goddamn, DMK, this shit packs less heat than a West Side Story gang fight.
Once we got over the mild chiles, though, we still have a badass burger on our hands. Everyone puts eggs on burgers these days. The shit’s as ubiquitous as hipsters in skinny jeans, but far less gross and you can’t tell when the eggs have a boner. Every other menu in the city, it seems, has a fried egg burger on it. And most of them are horseshit. They’re often served with a hard egg yolk (why the fuck would we want a hard boiled egg on a burger?) or with a bun/condiment combo that causes the egg to slip out of the bun like an N-bomb at a Michael Richards stand-up show or on a patty so big it makes the egg look a Yarmulke. Thank the Good Lord DMK is better than this. Their #4 comes on an egg that fits perfectly inside the bun, oozes the good shit when bisected, and stays nicely in place when lifted to one’s mouth (insert your own joke here). Not spicy, but not without flavor, this burger is a shining eggs-ample of how to top a burger with an over easy. (Yes, we went there again.)
Well folks, that brings us to the end of our tour. Like Lindsay Lohan in rehab, DMK is the kind of place that you aren’t going visit just once. It’s the kind of place you take your parents to when they come to visit, silently demonstrating why you don’t live in [insert suburb here] anymore. This is beyond comfort food, it’s the kind of burger that tucks you into bed at night.
Ladies, this is where the magic happens.
It’s a sanctuary for true burger lovers, try it once and it will forever become part of your life. . . unless, of course, you don’t like it. In that case, go fuck yourself.
If you don’t love DMK, you don’t love burgers.