Here's a hot tip
Adventures in paradise.
You better believe it. I tried it.
I really did.
I ordered a burger with blue cheese and peanut butter on it.
Yes, such a flavor combination exists.
It wasn’t an easy decision but I was feeling adventurous at the time.
I do consider myself an adventurous guy but not in the extreme-sports and gnarly-living kinda way. More so in the willingness to try new things and experiences. That’s how I’ve found myself living in big cities, in faraway countries, and on islands surrounded by Caribbean waters.
So when I go out to dinner—which is rare these days—I don’t mind exploring the dusty nooks of the menu. Perhaps choosing the far-out selections from time to time. Because the only way to become a person with the hot-tip is to actively seek them out.
The problem is, I have a rule for burgers. I rule that I follow as intently as Jim Jones to a cup of Kool-aid.
The rule: Keep it simple.
Classic American burgers don’t need fanciful flavors and snooty ingredients. It’s called a classic for a reason.
Potato bun.
Thin beef patty.
American cheese.
Lettuce.
Onion.
Pickle.
Special sauce.
Tomato is a flex ingredient, depending on the moment.
That’s my ideal burger. The perfect mix of fats, salts, acidity, crunch, and creaminess.
But on this particular Friday night, the adventurous side of me won. I needed to break up the monotony of a corporate work week, with its endless emails and approvals and sign-offs and watered-down work. I needed a defibrillator shot of something new and unexpected.
Plus, I met a guy called Rico on the beach and he said the peanut butter and blue-cheese burger was good. He was shirtless with a thick, brown beard, a deep tan, and the contentment of a child.
“The amount of peanut butter is just right,” he said, adjusting his crotch and pulling out another cigarette. He was splayed out like an open-faced sandwich on a yellow and white beach chair. “You think it would overpower the burger—the peanut butter and the blue cheese—but there’s just the right amount.”
Rico also runs Trivia night at Common Cents—the bar behind the burger I would soon be confronting.
“Yeah?” I replied dumbly.
“It’s really well-balanced. You should try it,” he said, before lighting up. He smoked Parliaments.
There it is. An insider’s tip.
If there’s ever a good sign to try something new it’s at the behest of a locals’ hot tip. And even though I couldn’t see Rico’s eyes—they were hidden behind the brown lenses of his tortoise-patterned Ray Bans—I felt like I could trust him.
Here’s a man who knows how to live, I thought. Good livin’ and good eatin’. Sign me up.
So I ordered it.
To takeaway. It came in a box and we ate on the balcony overlooking the bay. The sun had set by now and Rico was probably gallivanting through the bars in town.
The fries were soggy but the burger appeared intact. It came open-faced with the meat, peanut butter, and blue cheese on one side, lettuce, onion, etc. on the other.
At the first look in the dim lighting, I confused the oozing peanut butter with sacred melted cheese. After a fleeting moment of excitement—who doesn’t love cheese?—I realized my eyes were deceiving me and I remembered my adventurous decision.
Reservations simmered through me.
What was I thinking? I don’t even really like peanut butter all that much.
But... local’s tip! Press forward brave adventurous one!
So I took a bite. A hefty bite that had the burger wrapped around my mouth and face like a scene out of Ridley Scott’s Alien.
Talking-point burgers are often beastly. The head chefs and restaurant managers make them that way to draw attention and to get people talking.
People like Rico.
My first thought was to wench my jaw open as wide as possible to minimize the mess and keep my fingers and face clean. This burger was turning into my Moby Dick.
After my jaw assumed its natural position, I started to process what was unfolding in my mouth. The swirls of velvety peanut butter interloping with the juices from the meat and the pungent blue cheese. The latter almost strong-arming both into submission.
It was…
…
… See, the thing about trying new meals is you need time to orient your brain around the new flavors. While my mind was in “burger” mode, expecting the usual tasting notes and textures, my mouth was behind enemy lines, fighting to make sense of it all.
Another bite—I need a second opinion. This time I take more control to limit the debris and bring a sense of decorum to the night.
Now the flavors start coming together. Oh, baby. Mixing and moving in my mouth like salsa dancers finding their rhythm. It all starts to make sense.
A third bite follows. The flavor profile starts to rise from the mess like an Egyptian god…
It was…
Hmm...
Oh?!
Ok...
Wow… WOW!
Let’s not skirt around the bush. It was pretty bloody awful.
Those are wow’s of shame. Despondent at ruining what could’ve been a delicious burger night. Wow’s of ‘what was I thinking?’ and ‘what were they thinking??’
If you ask me, the burger leans too heavily into the umami flavor profile. Between the meat patty, blue cheese, and peanut butter, it’s a vortex of strong flavors. Every nuance is obliterated by its richness and thickness, like three prized fighters throwing haymakers at each other in a back alley frenzy.
And Rico, you charming beach wrinkle, my burger had about a quarter tub of peanut butter dolloped on it.
Doesn’t feel like balance to me.
so you've been eating and beaching in the us virgin islands - when are ya'll coming back to nyc? i'm back and moving to greenpoint 1st august