NYC Journal: burger joint

After a week's holiday hiatus, Fosco returns to the narrative of the pre-Christmas trip that he took to New York City with his boyfriend Oz. You can read the previous installments of Fosco's NYC Journal here.

After a pan-Asian hipster dinner at Buddakan on Friday night, Fosco and Oz were looking for something a little more relaxed for Saturday lunch. They settled on burgers. As the weather was cold and snowy, the outdoor eating arrangements of Danny Meyer's Shake Shack didn't seem like the best idea (although Fosco will endure a severe amount of pain for frozen custard). Instead, Fosco and Oz opted for the faux dive: burger joint at Le Parker Meridien.

Le Parker Meridien is a lovely upscale hotel just south of Central Park (with an understated entrance reminiscent of a subway tunnel). burger joint is the purposefully incongruous eatery hidden off the hotel's sumptuous lobby. Seriously. The entire "restaurant" is hidden behind floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains, with a rope line to keep the burger-seekers orderly:

Of course, this pretense at shame is all good fun as there is no doubt that Le Parker Meridien is profiting handsomely from this little chunk of greasiness in their lobby.

You can tell you've come the right place when you start down the darkened hallway and see the only sign that advertises burger joint's existence. You also pass a high-powered air purifier set into the wall to prevent the delicious burgery smell from ruining the rare air of Le Meridien's lobby. (N.B., those are Germans ahead of us in line.)

When you've finally waited long enough to make it in the door, keep your expectations low. burger joint is literally a room--and a room not much larger than Fosco's apartment in Santa Cruz. There is 1970s rec room paneling. There are no windows. There are television and movie posters. And (a very few) diner tables.

There's a counter where a woman listens to your order while ignoring you completely (and yet, she gets it right!).

Once you've ordered (N.B., your choices are limited: burger, cheeseburger, fries, shakes), the game begins: you must outsmart thirty other people to claim a small table. Luckily, many of your competitors are Japanese or European tourists and consequently cannot match your American level of pushiness. The trick is to choose a table where the people look like they're almost finished eating and then lurk until you can swoop into the seat. Unfortunately, you will spend most of your meal being stared at by the next wave of table-seekers.

While you're waiting for your order, you can read the panoply of celebrity testimonials and autographs that adorn the walls. Fosco's favorite was Mitt Romney's:

In case you can't quite read it, it says "Big Burger Fan, Thanks! Mitt Romney 9-17-07." Sadly, this historical document is somewhat obscured (purposely?) by the autograph of Chazz Palminteri, who is neither a presidential candidate nor a Mormon.

And the food? Well, Fosco's vanilla shake was pretty incredible. And the shoestring fries were first-class. The burgers were fine, although nothing to blog about. Good, but not great.

The problem with burger joint, Fosco and Oz have decided, is the inevitable comparison (for West Coast residents) with In-N-Out Burger. In-N-Out is just better. In NYC, in the absence of In-N-Out, burger joint must seem like heaven; but to anyone who can eat In-N-Out on a regular basis, the comparison does not work out in burger joint's favor. It's like a Memphis native eating barbecue in Minneapolis--the Minneapolis barbecue may be perfectly well-executed, but it's not going to compare to Memphis barbecue.

That said, the atmosphere at burger joint was a hoot. And the whole experience makes for a decent story. So, on the whole, Fosco and Oz are glad to have eaten there. But if you're an NYC resident dying for a great burger, might I suggest Virgin America's flights from JFK to LAX?

Year in Discoveries: 2006

I love this list: the things that Fosco discovered in 2006 that gave the year its identity. Of course, many of these things were actually not new in 2006--just new to Fosco. With that in mind, let's tour Fosco's 2006 discoveries...

• Arrested Development: Fosco watched all three seasons on DVD during his recuperation from The Accident. I don't want to exaggerate (or to come across as a pussy), but I think that without this series, I would have been crying most of that first week.
  
  I've always loved Jason Bateman--ever since as a young queer boy, I crushed hard on him as the lead in the short-lived It's Your Move. I think I even bought a novelization of an episode of that show from the elementery school book club--remember those? But it's not just Bateman that makes AD (as the Kids call it) brilliant: the entire cast is superb and the writing is funnier than anything I've seen on TV, INCLUDING The Simpsons (which is not easy for me to admit...). I mean, this is the show that featured guest appearances from Liza Minelli as a sex-starved widow with vertigo. And then there are the words and phrases that I can't stop repeating to my sister: nevernudes, Bob Loblaw's Law Blog, Motherboy, the dizzies, Anne Paul Veal, "Marry Me."
  
  At this point, there is no question that this is the best television series to air in the first decade of the 21C. There, I said it.
  
  
• Illinois by Sufjan Stevens: released in 2005, but Fosco didn't start listening to it until the beginning of 2006. It became particularly important to Fosco in November of this year (and, in fact, he is listening to it as he writes this). While Sufjan's Michigan disc was high-quality (and captivated Fosco because of home-state pride), Illinois is truly exceptional. How is it possible to write an achingly beautiful song about the life of John Wayne Gacy? Or a jaunty bluegrass ode to Decatur? Oh, and did I mention that he's hot?
  
  
• In-N-Out Burger: the West Coast institution, praised extravagantly by Fosco here.
  
  
• Kathy Griffin: I know, I know... This is so cliche: a homosexual who likes Kathy Griffin? Shocking. But, to tell the truth, I never really cared about her until I watched her My Life on the D-List. She's really so appealing and down-to-earth. And she tells such funny stories about Anna Nicole Smith and Gay Gaykin and his Gay-Mates.
  
  
• blogs: As 2006 was the year that Fosco launched this little project he likes to call Fosco Lives!, blogs were clearly an important influence on him this year. But which blogs? Almost every morning, Fosco gets his niche news from several outposts of the Nick Denton Empire, including Deadspin, Defamer, and Gawker. And Fosco never travels somewhere without researching Gridskipper for tips on where the cool kids hang out.
  
  More importantly for Fosco and Fosco Lives! however, are two personal blogs: Ted Gideonse's The Gideonse Bible and John Mackey's blog at OstiMusic. These two blogs have served as inspirations for what Fosco Lives! can be and I read them religiously (which is really the only way to read a Bible). Merci, gentleman for a great year of blogging.
  
  
• John McPhee on geology: his Pulitzer-Prize-winning Annals of the Former World served as Fosco's guidebook as he drove from Michigan to Santa Cruz along I-80 this summer, stopping along the way to pick up rocks. You can read about Fosco's adventures along the way in the Fosco Lives! Archives here and here.
  
  
• "The Nietzsche Family Circus": I have literally spent hours on this website this fall. It cheers me up whenever I'm down. Who would have thought that pairing a random Nietzsche aphorism with a random "Family Circus" cartoon would be the best thing ever? I've permalinked to some of my favorites here, here, and here. Oh God, I'm laughing too hard...
  
  
• Matthew Barney's Drawing Restraint 9: Fosco saw this art film three times, despite it running three-ish hours. Do yourself a favor and watch the trailer. Then read Fosco's earlier review.
  
  
• Lindsay Lohan and her vulva (SFW). First, I would like to explain why I refuse to participate in the popular convention of referring to pictures like these (NSFW) as pix of Lindsay Lohan's vagina. I may be a homosexual who hasn't touched a woman's vagina in like five years (or so), but I did take Health Class in Junior High and I think what we are looking at is actually Lindsay Lohan's vulva.
  
  Whatever we are looking at, I'm pretty compelled by it. Not the vulva per se, but the idea that a popular teen star would regularly flash her privates to the paparazzi. This plus her drinking problems, her barely literate emails, and her strange belief that she will be aided by Al Gore, make her the most fascinating case of pub(l)ic self-destruction I've seen. Britney (NSFW) is a total amateur compared to Lindsay. The way I see it, Lindsay is one marriage to a homosexual (does she know Clay Aiken?) away from becoming the Judy Garland of this generation. And I can't wait to see what degradation is yet to come!
  

Field Trip Week: Casual Sex in Salinas, Foucault, Steinbeck, and Dirty Limericks

On Thursday night, Fosco gave his personal assistant, Geoffrey, the night off and headed south on Highway 1 into "Big Salad Country"--the Salinas Valley.

I was in Salinas for several reasons:

• to visit the largest city on the Central Coast
  
• to see the vast fields of lettuce and other greens--trust me, they are indeed vast
  
• to get a tossed salad

Oh yeah, and I had also recently heard about a "place" in Salinas where visitors can enjoy the company of Latino men--anonymously and for a short while. Naturally, I had to investigate and I was not disappointed--what a great idea! Latino men are so... spicy.

Casual sex between men--I am always reminded of an interview with Michel Foucault, conducted by James O'Higgins, in which Foucault explains why the prohibition on homosexuality has made it so that homosexuals prefer to focus entirely on the sex act itself, as opposed to the rituals of anticipation, courtship, and intimacy:

O'Higgins: I'm reminded of Cassanova's famous expression that 'the best moment in life is when one is climbing the stairs.' One can hardly imagine a homosexual today making such a remark.

Foucault: Exactly. Rather, he would say something like: 'the best moment of love is when the lover leaves in the taxi.'

Or, something more like: the best part is when I get back into my car and go to get a burger.

Which brings up another delight in Salinas: an In-N-Out Burger, Fosco's favorite!

Did you know that John Steinbeck was born in Salinas? I think there should be a sign at the city limits: "Birthplace of that Novelist You Liked When You Were in High School."

Unfortunately, there is some sort of National Steinbeck Center in Salinas, dedicated to "the exploration of Steinbeck's work and themes." God help us.

I can save everyone a lot of effort by performing an exhaustive exploration of Steinbeck's themes right here:

• Theme 1: People are still worthy of respect and dignity, even if they are stupid and gross and breast-feed grown men and stuff.
  
• Theme 2: Physical strength and retardation are a problematic combination.
  
• Theme 3: Sometimes there is a good brother and sometimes there is an evil brother; also, women cause a lot of trouble (see also Book of Genesis).

See, now I'm the National Steinbeck Center.

During my Foucaultian reverie on the drive back to Santa Cruz, it occurred to me that Salinas would be an excellent subject for a dirty limerick. Ergo:

There once was a man from Salinas
Who had an exceptional penis
He bragged: "On a night
When I wear my pants tight,
I score more than Gilbert Arenas."

What other California cities can be thus limericked? Modesto? Eureka? Milpitas? Commenters, consider yourself challenged.

In-N-Out Burger: The first rule of the secret menu is, you do not talk about the secret menu.

[The most recent of Fosco's weekly restaurant reviews.]

It turns out there is this whole California fast-food phenomenon known as In-N-Out Burger. In my East Coast life, I had heard of the place, of course. I knew a couple of Stanford grads who had relocated east and who swore that it was what they missed the most about the West Coast. And, as my friend Todd has pointed out for years, the name does have a somewhat dirty sound to it. So naturally, when I passed one on the interstate two weeks ago, I thought it might be worth a try.

The first time I ate there, I was (truth-be-told) disappointed. The menu is extremely limited--only burgers, fries, and shakes/soft drinks. I definitely enjoy a burger, but I also enjoy a variety of potential toppings. The burger I had was fine. Good, even. But nothing that I would go out of my way to eat. The fries were, well, pretty dull. Definitely not McDonald's caliber. I began to write a post in my head: a skeptical Easterner debunks the In-N-Out myth. But then I decided to give them another chance.

On my second visit, the food was exactly the same: adequate yet uninspired. But (and I remember this vividly, with the clarity which life-changing moments sometimes demand), the guy who got his food in front of me had something different, something that was clearly not on the posted menu! It looked like fries, but they were cheesy! And there was some sort of sauce involved! I ate my boring meal and rushed home to do more research.

[This is the point in the narrative where you wonder why I didn't just ask the guy what he ordered. Or, perhaps, why I didn't ask one of the counter associates. These are valid questions. The answer is that I'm not like that.]

Apparently, the reason that the guy had something delicious-looking is that there is a SECRET MENU at In-N-Out Burger. (This isn't quite the same as Fight Club, so maybe I can talk about the secret menu.) The company tries to pretend that the menu isn't all-that-secret by posting it on their website (although you do have to be sharp-eyed to catch it). However, it turns out that the Secret Menu is actually quite a bit more extensive than they would have you believe.

Ever since discovering this secret menu, I have been enjoying my double cheeseburger "Animal Style," that is with

• mustard-cooked beef patties (What is mustard-cooked? I have no idea.)
  
• extra spread (very similar to Thousand Island)
  
• pickles
  
• grilled onions

Even better, I now order my fries "Animal Style" as well, which means they are smothered with

• melted cheese
  
• grilled onions
  
• spread

Gaze upon a miracle:

I am pretty sure this is what the Greeks meant by ambrosia.

The only thing that prevents me from eating every meal at In-N-Out Burger (well, besides a strong desire never to visit a cardiologist) is that the nearest one is over 30 miles from my apartment. (Although it is on the way to IKEA...)

My infatuation with In-N-Out is even more remarkable considering that the company is owned by religious nuts. However, do be assured that, as I gobble down my "Animal Style" fries, I am constantly thinking "Hail, Satan." That should even things out.