A generically good burger (Lure Fishbar)

As I sat down to right this post, I had one of those "who the hell am I?" moments. I realized I haven't had a legit burger in weeks, and I haven't written about one since I had that oh-so-sensual encounter with In-N-Out months ago. As someone who used to live, sleep, and breathe burgers - this just feels weird. Anyway, I was watching the Oprah interview of Lance Armstrong today (because obviously Oprah's expertise of bike racing comes in as only a close second to her knowledge of mac and cheese), and something dawned on me - Lance ruined the sport of cycling just as gimmicky fusion burgers topped with everything from foie gras to chocolate has ruined the classic burger. Every burger we eat nowadays, you expect it to be doped to the gills with some ass-hat stupid combination of toppings. Everything not covered in a mountain of crap is instantaneously boring. Now I'm not saying there isn't a place for candied bacon on a burger (I'd be the last person to tell you otherwise), but in no way should that define how good a burger is. A good burger should be able to stand on its own: meat, bread, and optionally cheese... nothing else.

Like I said, people want to buy into these ass-clown gimmicks. I know I did. Just like people wanted to believe some dude could beat up on cancer and then come back with one testicle to waffle-stomp a bunch of other dudes in spandex (no matter how much you want to argue the aerodynamics of a full set of nuts vs. a single nut), adding random shit on top of burgers isn't normal. Sure it might not taste like absolute asshole, but that doesn't mean it's done the right way. The moment you mask the unadulterated flavor of beef with a cranberry-infused garlic aioli, you've missed the point. Lure Bar gets this. When every other brunch joint is pushing their mozzarella stick covered freak-burgers, all they're going to pimp is a plain cheeseburger... an absolutely spectacular specimen of a cheeseburger.



Oh hello there [/George Takei voice]. If you're uncomfortably excited, it's okay. On visuals alone, Lure Fishbar deserves some slow clapping. A proportionally balanced combination of a semi-sweet brioche and a 6 ounce block of Pat LaFrieda blend bound together with a slice of sharp cheddar glistening with meat "love juice" looks its weight in gold. This is a veritably beautiful burger. An Audrey Hepburn looking burger. This is the type you would take home to your mother because it's so fucking classy you don't even understand why you're smitten with someone you just met.



Now Lure Fishbar saw all that they had made, and indeed, it was very good! There's a certain art to executing a proper burger. Step one, buy the right bread. Check... their brioche was porous, soft yet crusty, and had a subtle hint of buttery sweet richness. Step two, pick the right meat. Check... pretty hard to go wrong with the Pat LaFrieda blend. Step three, don't fuck it up. Good job Fishbar, all three of these - you did. See that patty? See how the fringe isn't grey? Getting a medium-rare correct is probably harder than it seems - cook to 135 Fahrenheit and let it sit for 5 mins on carryover heat. Except 90% of places either leave me with a mush that's cold in the center or a blob reminiscent of grey matter. Fishbar killed it. Then they put cheese on it, which is always the correct thing to do (coming from someone who's lactose intolerant). If you've ever played Dynasty Warriors, this is like a 150+ hit combo success with a special move to finish off the stage boss: historically accurate, but with a modern interpretation.



Also, there's fries. They're good fries, but they're standard fries. Like McDonald's fries. Which is actually probably the highest praise I can give considering my love for McDonald's fries. There's nothing that'll make these stand out, no duck-fat rendered crunch, no ginger ketchup condiment pairing, just plain old fries. Nothing to detract to detract from the burger, this is likely the best thing they could've trotted out on the plate. Again, bang up work Fishbar.

Anyway, I'm not sure what I'm trying to convince you of here. When I started writing this post three days ago, I think I was annoyed at Lance Armstrong for being a massive ass-schnozzle in his interview. Then I forgot about it somewhat and had to tie it into a burger. Then I got angry at how burgers are now bastardized with everything short of ape shit. Then I got mildly aroused reliving the Lure burger. So I'll end things here in cliff-hanger fashion.

tl;dr - I have ADD and can't finish a single post with a cohesive theme. Lure Fishbar makes a really good plain cheeseburger, which is awesome, because everyone else seems to be focusing on making ass-clown burgers with 50 ingredients piled on top. Something about Lance Armstrong too.

Lure Fishbar
142 Mercer Street, New York, NY 10012
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Bye Philadelphia... you make good burgers (Ladder 15)

For some stupid reason, back when I was still in high school, Penn was my dream school. Hell if I can remember why. Sure everyone shits on Cornell and Brown for being the crappy Ivies, but at least people know they're part of the Ivy League. I mean... no one confuses any of them with Penn State ~sigh. Yes, I realize how much of a pretentious asshole I sound like right now, and yes, I have since learned that choosing schools based on prestige is dumb (you realize I'm Asian right?). The point is, I really wanted to come to Penn, and I really wanted to live in Philadelphia. In hindsight, 17 year old me was a dipshit, because, let's be honest... Philadelphia kind of sucks. Everything basically shuts down at 10 pm if you're not an alcoholic, everyone is a hipster, the subway system smells constantly like a blend of hand soap and urine, the homeless people here are meaner/scarier (than the ones in NYC), and you produced M. Night Shyamalan.* Damn son... Avatar was pure crap and everyone knows it. Way to suck.

Well I guess that's not fair. Philadelphia isn't entirely worthless. Home to some seriously dope-ass cheesesteaks (and sandwiches in general), Philadelphia is the place where they signed the declaration of independence, where the finest pitching rotation since the mid-90's Braves is assembled, where the mythical "gobbler" is available year round, and most importantly... where some of my favorite burgers can be found. Like the "Burger 15" at Ladder 15.



I already wrote about this burger on AHT (it is my last post... gooooo read it), so I won't rehash the details... but here's the breakdown. The Burger 15 is $15 (how clever ಠ_ಠ) worth of brioche, a prime sirloin patty, caramelized onions, mushrooms, truffle sauce, shredded beef short rib, and... my oh my... fatty-ass bone marrow. It sounds expensive and it is expensive, but is it worth it? Yeah man. Just like I said on Serious Eats, "like eating the freshest cow available."



Look how overcooked that shit is. Not one fuck was given that day. As an aside, I'm pretty okay with not doing burger posts anymore. Not that it wasn't fun and all not having to pay for burgers, but cutting them in half was sapping a lot of the enjoyment out of my meals. But yeah, I'm usually pretty anal about medium-rare. I feel like cooking the meat properly should probably be of more importance than sourcing the finest produce available from domestic farmers (or crap like that in general). The Burger 15 apparently isn't like other girls on the block. I like it no matter how overdone it is. Despite the fact that it looks like it was prepared by a line cook at Chili's, the burger remains fantastically juicy (undoubtedly aided by a layer of marrow fat). Combined with the caramelized onions and the brioche, there exists an aftertaste of sweetness that makes this burger straddle the line between meal and dessert.



Truffle fries... truffle aioli mayo. Absolute perfection. I'm not even going to add context to that statement, because apparently it's all the rage lately to make stupid ass statements without backing it up. If you don't agree with my opinion about these fries, well you're just wrong. That's what perfect means. All joking aside, these things are pretty much the tits when it comes to fries that I've had. Structurally they possess the combination of a crisp shell with a fluffy homogeneous center. Flavor-wise, they're properly salted and drizzled with a phenomenally even coating of truffle oil. The slight sweetness of the potato vs. the herbal goodness of seasoning makes for a terrific handful of fries. Oh and that mayo? Creamed myself in excitement.

Oh yeah, so back to the main point of this whole post. Goodbye Philadelphia. I'm pretty excited about leaving you (even though I've been here less than a year). For the most part I won't miss anything since the number of good friends I've made here I can probably count on one hand. I'll admit that I will miss your ability to construct magical sandwiches out of ground beef and bread. You might be pretty shitty at almost everything that doesn't involve beer, but my god are you good at making burgers.

*please don't take me seriously for hating on Philadelphia, it's just an opinion. As for M. Night Shyamalan movies sucking major ass? That part is fact.
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When is a burger not a burger? Pt. 2 (Bridget Foy's)

What up peeps? This week's installment on "My Inner Fatty" comes to you courtesy of my post over on AHT about a charming little eatery in East Philly called Bridget Foy's. Long story short, it's a brunch slash bar type thing that blah blah blah, whatever. If you want to read about the cheeseburger you can do so on Serious Eats... because I'm not going to talk about that here. Instead... spurned on by some of the responses to the initial post... I'm going to rehash the question of "what constitutes a burger," I'm going to discuss the ridiculousness of (some) commenters, and I'm also going to explain why broad sweeping generalizations aren't good! Basically, I'm going to write everything I'm not allowed to say on AHT here, using inappropriate analogies and colorful language. Fun times!

Now... the last time I brought up the idea of a "burger not actually being a burger," it was about the Monte Cristo burger - one consisting of a beef patty, smoked turkey, barbecued ham, and French toast - found at RUB Barbeque. In that post, I said that their creation was a sandwich, not a burger. Sure, Wiki's definition of a ground meat patty between bread would classify such a thing as a burger, but in this case Wiki's definition is looser than a cheap hooker. By what the "common braintrust" is suggesting, if you took meatloaf and put it between Wonderbread it'd also be a burger. That would be straight stupid... to me, RUB's creation... is no burger. Is it delicious? Yes. A burger? No.



I get it. In a lot of cases there's ambiguity on where to draw the line between calling something a burger vs. just a monstrosity of food. This isn't one of this cases. Bridget Foy's "Head House Market" burger definitely falls into the former category. Everything about it screams burger. It has a standard bun (yeah it's a brioche... but it's an uber sensual brioche), it has a patty comprised of an 8-ounce matrix of luscious beef, it's topped with a pretty standard cheese (gruyere), and it uses a fairly standard topping in grilled mushrooms. So where's the problem?



An egg? Are you freaking joking? Someone suggested I stop reviewing egg topped burgers because they weren't hamburgers, but were "breakfast burgers." Someone else suggested I stop reviewing egg topped burgers because they're "old news." Guess what bro-skis, no can do. First off... in case you didn't realize it when you were typing... the phrase "breakfast burger" has the word burger in it. I might not be the brightest guy on the block, but that suggests to me that an egg topped burger fits in perfectly at home on a site called "A Hamburger Today." So if it's alright by you, I'm going to kindly ignore your suggestion. As for commenter number dos who thinks egg burgers are boring and overplayed? So's apple pie. That shit's been around since well before your grandfather was spitting mad game at your grandma. That doesn't make it any less delicious (apple pies, not your grandmother). I realize that fried eggs on burgers probably isn't anything innovative, but a yolk soaked sweet brioche bun paired with the sharp contrast of gruyere and the subtle flavor of beef? It's a sexy party in your mouth. An instant tongue boner. It's like a Kevin Durant 3-point shot from the top of the arc. It's just... right.



Regarding how burgers should be cooked? That's personal man. Too personal. You can't just come all up in my post and tell me how I should like my meat. I like it soft and pink, is that such a crime? In all seriousness, this is the danger of sweeping generalizations. If you want your burgers charred and blackened, that's fine. I respect that. Do your thing. But if I specifically request that my burger be cooked medium-rare, I feel like the restaurant (and the reader) should respect and deliver on that premise. The moment you start making decisions and speaking for other people... well, then you just sound like silly. Sorry.
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OH... burger? (Oyster House)

You know what's a really dumb name for a burger? "OH." While I realize that it's nothing more than an abbreviation for Oyster House, in my head I kept reading it as "oh... burger." See how demented that looks? Whatever, stupid names and awesome food are not mutually exclusive things. Anyway, if you've been reading my blog for a while, surely you know I have a somewhat mild shellfish allergy. You might be saying "why the fuck would someone with a seafood allergy eat a burger that has fried oyster as a topping? You must be a huge dumbass." Well jokes on you. I know that already. But like I said over on AHT, this burger has quite a reputation as a winner. Who cares if I have to sacrifice my health to review it? Remember people... "life isn't about how many breaths you take, it's about how many times you have your breath taken away." What better way than to have a swollen itchy throat and arms full of hives?!? Correct answer - there is none.

If you didn't read my post over on Serious Eats - you should. That shit takes me a long time to write yo - here's a quick rundown on the "oh... burger": Moderately awesome buttery sweet bread, completely intoxicating mesh work of finely cut beef, mush of fried batter and shellfish, and giant pile of sock-smelling bleu cheese. Yep. As you can tell, there were things I absolutely adored about the sandwich as well as constructional elements I definitely questioned. As I explained in my other post... what ruined this burger for me wasn't the fact that I was developing hives or that my throat was itchy... it was the fact that the bleu cheese overpowered all the other elements. It was the fact that while the patty was texturally perfect and remarkably flavored... there was a squishy little oyster that sat on top all useless-like.



This post would be pretty dumb if I just rehashed what I already said, so instead... I'm going to complain about superfluous toppings in burgers.

I am a prototypical Asian person. I like to get value with my burger. What better way to get value than to stack costly oysters and bleu cheese on top of an otherwise plainly constructed burger? From a fiscal standpoint, it makes much more sense to get more expensive toppings than to get something plain. This is not a phenomenon unique to Asians. I feel like more and more places are dolling up plain burgers as a marketing ploy. Pancetta-onion fondue? Sure! Chocolate-covered bacon? WHY THE FUCK NOT? In the beginning, loading the hell out of burgers was awesome. It was cutting edge. It made me feel alive. But now, everyone's doing it for the sake of doing it (oh heyyy, that sounds like food blogging!). At some point, even my overwhelmingly Asian "VALUE" gene realizes something isn't right. Oyster House's burger is a prime example of this. An otherwise mindblastingly good burger tainted by the a fried oyster, the ocean's most lecherous shellfish, and a dollop of cheese it most certainly didn't need.

TL;DR - Oyster House, the way you named your burger is stupid as shit. It tastes pretty good though. It'd probably taste even better if you didn't put nonsense on top just because you can. Dear all burger places: Stop being idiots and putting toppings where they don't belong. The end.
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Proper cooking of a burger (National Mechanics)

I wrote about the National Mechanics burger a couple of weeks ago on AHT, so if you're actually curious about that burger in particular, hop on over to Serious Eats and read it there. Nope, this post is mostly going to be where I write/complain about what constitutes a properly cooked burger. In my opinion. Because this is my blog.

Anyway, when I was a kid/dumbass, I used to ask for my burgers to be cooked medium-well. I absolutely hated the idea of consuming blood... undoubtedly because "Twilight" hadn't come out yet. As I entered my teenage/angst-filled years, I began to push the culinary boundaries and started getting my meat cooked medium - ever so slightly pink, but still devoid of red liquid content. As I progressed through college, I grew ever more brazen... demanding rare to medium-rare on every single burger I shoved in my mouth. Mad cow? Fuck that. I lived life on the edge.

I had found my sweet spot of burger well-doneness. Medium-rare. The way it should be.



As you can see, the National Mechanics burger isn't anything special. The bun isn't brushed with an ostrich egg yolk prior to baking and the cheese isn't made from the milk of some goat only found on a remote island off the coast of Spain, but it is what it is... a well thought out and assembled bar burger. Nothing more, nothing less.



One of the few things I hate about AHT is the fact that they make me cut open burgers before eating. People want to know how coarse the meat is, how well cooked it is, crap like that, but at the same time... they don't want to see bite marks and imagine your saliva impregnating all the nooks and crannies of the bread (yet some of the other writers do this... *whistles*). I get it. That shit is disgusting. Still, a lot of times it ruins the experience for me. Do you know how much it sucks when I have to destroy an engineering marvel that is a perfectly constructed burger? DO YOU?

But that's not my point. My point is... when I look at that burger, it makes me sad. It makes me sad that medium-rare apparently means medium-well. It makes me sad that there isn't a hint of meat in the center that went unspoiled by heat. And yet, despite my virtual tears, it tasted awesome. In the end, that burger was certainly above average, and I didn't even care how the patty was cooked. The meat was smoky and juicy, the bun was phenomenal (good enough to eat alone), and the other stuff was... er, fine. I'm not entirely sure where I'm trying to go with this, but based on my experience at National Mechanics, I feel like I have to reassess what "properly cooked" really means to me. Does everything have to come out fluorescent pink to taste good? Definitely not. Does that mean everything I thought before was wrong? Maybe.
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Garlic mayo and burgers (Race Street Café)

I wrote about Race Street Café's burger a couple weeks ago on AHT, and honestly it's been on my mind ever since I took my first bite of it. There's not much I can add here that I haven't already said on Serious Eats, but amongst all the burgers I've had in Philadelphia, it's probably one of three (try guessing the other two!) that I could see myself craving/returning to Philly just to have... it's just that good. It's nothing innovative or new, it's not dressy or gaudy, it just feels... right. Everything about this burger screams perfection, from the delicate and firm crust on the bun to the perfectly melted and integrated cheese, all culminating with the gorgeous pink innards...



Love at first sight. It's okay to admit it... don't lie to yourself. The thing is, Race Street Café never really shows up on anybody else's favorite burger lists. You get your usual suspects of Village Whiskey, Good Dog, Monk's Café, etc. - which is really a shame since for the most part, they all pale in comparison imho. I've had all of them... and even if I'm nitpicking, there was something wrong with every single one of them. If you asked me what was wrong with this burger, I would be speechless. Probably because I was too busy ignoring you while shoving gigantic bites of burger in my mouth.



What's messed up is that the burger isn't even the best thing I ate there. It was the garlic mayo. Disgustingly enough, if you told me I could buy a bottle of their house mayo and squirt it into my mouth like some deranged fat kid... I would. Inevitably I'd end up spraying some on my clothes, but you know what? I wouldn't even bother cleaning it off. I would relish the opportunity to walk around town smelling like a garlic and fat-based emulsion. It'd be pretty boss. I know what you're asking... "but wait! What about the picture of the fries... how are they!?" Answer - they're just there to sop up the garlic mayo. Fact. Anyway, I know what I'm doing next time... I'm slathering the mayo all up inside that burger. Oh god, what a mighty sandwich that'll be.

Race Street Café is home to one of... no, my favorite burger in Philly. The only downside is that you'll leave covered in burger "love juices" and speckles of mayo all over yourself. No amount of shame would stop me from going back though.
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Grace Tavern, where I drank no beers

You know the drill, go read my post over at AHT for my attempt at unbiased burger related thoughts on Grace Tavern. If you're looking for second-rate content with minimal editing, then you're in the right place.

I'm not really a big beer drinker... or really much of a drinker at all. I tend to describe all my beers as "smooth" or "dark." It's as if I only know two adjectives to describe beer... I use no other descriptors aside from those two. Needless to say, going to places to drink is mostly a pointless endeavor for me. Will I drink? Yes. Can I discern a good stout from a can of Natty Ice? Just barely (the can is a dead giveaway). The food however is a different story. While all my friends are busy getting plastered, you can usually find me gazing deeply at the menu, contemplating whether or not I should add on an order of onion rings or an order of sizzling fajitas. Good thing Grace Tavern kicks ass at making burgers.



The Grace Burger was one of the best pub burgers I've had in Philadelphia. They don't really screw around with tradition, they just melt a goopy layer of Swiss cheese on top, then top it with some lettuce and tomatoes. Then they sandwich it between a bun. An awesome bun. A bun that's brushed with oil, because oil makes everything better, especially bread. Win. I like oily buns and I cannot lie. You other fat kids can't deny. The only thing that was weird was how pungent and crunchy the onions were. Those onions were some crunchy sons of bitches. Either way, their standard cheeseburger is something worth having again, even if I have to pay for it the next time!



Look at all that yellow. It's like a cautionary tale of heartburn, narrated by melted cheese. It's pretty much the same burger, but without healthy stuff like lettuce, onions, and tomatoes. Meat, cheese, mushrooms... that's all there is to this burger. I know what you're thinking, "but wait, aren't mushrooms are healthy?!" No. Not the way they cook them. They're sautéed in a buttload of oil. Because oil makes everything better, especially when your sautéing the crap out of mushrooms. Once again, the bun is grilled and lathered up with a thin layer of oil, resulting in a super rich and hearty burger from the first to the last bite. I think I might've actually like this better than the classic cheeseburger... but I was also alternating bites between the two, so who knows?

Anyway, Grace Tavern makes some bitchin' burgers. They're good enough where I don't feel like an absolute moron if I go there just for the food. Although I probably should. I'm pretty sure the bartenders aren't too enamored with me staying sober.
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Armchair quarterbacks & cheese inside burgers (Good Dog Bar & Restaurant)

Don't be deceived by the title of this post, it will be heavy on bitching, with only a side of commentary regarding burgers. Yet again... if you want to read a more factual depiction of my meal at Good Dog, then do show some love to AHT, here. Nah... instead, today I'm gonna complain about the rise of the 'armchair quarterback.' In case you're not familiar with the term, here's what Urban Dictionary says it is... "some d-bag who is certain that he or she can make better decisions than the coaches or players while watching a competitive sport on television." This isn't just applicable to sports. No, this is way bigger than that. We all know someone who does it, the guy who criticizes everything, all the time, regardless of their expertise on the subject. Evidently, this exists in the blogging world too. Enter... the armchair quarterback on blog commenting.

See that burger at the very top? It's stuffed with cheese. I thought it was cool in concept, decent in practice, but not entirely perfect. Some would disagree with me, but hey... that's what opinions are. I found mine to be undercooked (and my cheese less than melted), so understandably I wasn't overwhelmed with the experience, but I could also understand why someone would fall in love with it. Moving on.



The traditional burger was also pretty good. I talked about the bits and pieces that go into its construction of AHT, so we'll have none of that here, but it is what it is... a thick grilled gastropub burger.



In my opinion, that burger is not medium-rare. Everyone has a different definition for that, but if I had to quantify that on a scale, it'd be like a 3 on the Richter of well-done-ness. Putting aside the fact that such a scale doesn't really exist, and that my rating of a 3 means absolutely nothing, I'd argue that it's closer to rare than it is to medium. Not that the burger didn't taste good, just that I would've preferred it to be slightly more well done, even at the risk of slight overcooking on the fringes.

Anyway, back to the point about the armchair quarterback (of blog commenting). By no means do I qualify myself as an expert on anything related to food, but I do feel like I've eaten enough of certain things to have built up a pretty decent picture of what's good, and what's not. If someone disagrees with me on something, I'm down with that... some of the best meals I've ever had came about because someone introduced me to something I didn't know about. The way in which someone does this however... is my main point of annoyance. Things that do irritate me... criticism of an opinion (I won't call something perfectly medium-rare just because it matches someone else's expectations), listing of credentials to prove said person's expertise, and linking to your own post to tell me why I'm wrong (these gripes aren't limited to this post alone/specifically). That last one's just like slapping me in the face... I mean, HOW CAN SHE SLAP? Maybe I'm being overly bitchy about this, which is likely, but it's something that's bothered me as of late. In this specific case... maybe the Good Dog burger is the 'best burger you've ever had,'  (maybe you should eat more burgers? Har har) but sorry... it's not mine.

I should add that 99.7% of commenters (that's 3 standard deviations of irritability!) are plain awesome. Reading their thoughts is, more often than not, insightful and filled with humor. It's unfortunate that the remaining .3% of asshats exist, but I guess you can't make everyone happy.  Luckily, I don't think anyone who makes those comments would like reading my blog to begin with... so I'm safe to rant.
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Beer, burgers, and blogging (SPTR)

If you're expecting insightful commentary about the burger I had at the South Philly Tap Room, you should probably head on over to AHT for a more comprehensive (read: less idiotic and more objective) review. If instead, you're looking for a post that's full of poorly written descriptions, and some thoughts on on food blogging... then you're in for a real treat.



If it isn't inherently obvious yet, I'm currently killing my free time (and vacant stomach space!) by writing about the burgers in Philly for AHT. It's like every fat kid's dream job, I get to eat a buttload of burgers and not pay for any of it. Sure there's the requirement that I write about the places afterward, but... let's be honest, I do that anyway. So no biggie. Those shooting pains in my left arm? Completely worth it for the amount of beef I get to have.



On 'assignment,' I went to SPTR, since it's pretty well known for its bar menu. Their burgers (including the occasional Mexican burger) all get rave reviews, so I figured it'd be worthwhile to check out... even if it's in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Everything I said on Serious Eats is entirely true. SPTR has a decent burger decked out in beer flavored toppings. The mustard is made with beer and the bacon is braised in beer. Hell... I wouldn't be surprised if the patty is secretly infused with beer. Overall, their burger is decently good, but nothing phenomenal, and certainly nothing to write home about (what am I doing then...?). The patty was sort of mushy (probably since I asked for rare) and kind of formed an amorphous blob of ground meat and oil soaked bread by the end of the meal. Actually, that sounds disgusting. I assure you it was more appetizing than my description.



Now let me hit you with some thoughts on food writing. On my trip to SPTR, I had some questions for the waitress/bartender who took my order (so I could write a factual post without resorting to using made up words like fantabulous). General questions, like... cooking method, seasoning, size of burger etc. I was first responded to with a look of bemusement, followed by some 'answers' which turned out to be straight lies, and then the cold shoulder. I started wondering at what point food writing becomes obnoxious to the wait staff, and if I had crossed that line (possibly by going to a pub and not ordering any beer). Honestly, I feel like it's well within a customer's right to know what they're eating... so no, I don't feel like I crossed any lines there. Was it because I was taking pictures of the food? Couldn't be. If the chef were offended that I wasn't eating his food immediately, then that I could understand, but why would a bartender care? I came to the conclusion that the bartender was just having a shitty day/being a bitch. That's perfectly understandable, people have off days. The problem that arises from this is the true problem I have with food blogging...

How much should the dining experience affect the writer's opinion of the food? Should it be ignored? 25%? 50? What if you taste the greatest [insert your favorite food here] you've ever had, but the waiter repeatedly laughs at how unfortunate your dining companion looks at throughout the meal (edit: this did not actually happen, just an example). How would you write that post? Seriously yo... food writing is tougher than you'd think.
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