My vegetarianism is now so well beyond selective as to be declared dead. Sarah and I have elected unanimously a twice-monthly burger binge, and are in the process of sampling the fabled carnivore cradles throughout the area. Last night, it was Matt's, home of the infamous Juicy Lucy.
The menu had seven items on it, four of which were beef-based variations on the burger. This makes sense. If you've learned to hit for power, why suddenly try to bunt? Built in 1954, the restaurant is comically spartan, with booths along the one wall, and a smattering of tables dotting the main floor. To the right, a small bar, with the grill by the entrance, visible to customers.
We arrived around 7pm, and encountered a fifteen minute wait, a not uncommon occurrence for Matt's. We busied ourselves admiring the framed accolades from multiple magazines and restaurant reviewers that covered the golden wallpaper. The burgers were prepared in under ten minutes, wrapped in paper, and served with the disclaimer of being incredibly hot. Sure enough, the thick slab cheddar cheese cooked inside the patty oozed like lava. I thought of asking for a bib.
The first bite brought us straight into the molten core, and grease dribbled down our chins. We burned through napkins. Sarah and I finished our burgers, and the better part of a basket of fries, in no time. Briefly, we considered splitting another, but gamely gave ourselves time to digest. There will be other burgers to try, but for now, Matt's is undisputed champion.
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