Burger time: Fatburger

The Great Burgerelli is not one to rush blindly toward great hype, particularly in matters of burgers. So although celebrated California chain Fatburger arrived in town in April, I took a few months to present myself at the Beverly restaurant.

When I finally did make my way to the 1950s diner-inspired outpost, I was pleasantly surprised. Fatburger is undeniably a chain, but it is no typical fast-food clone. Orders take several minutes to complete, and employees bring your food to your table. The whole experience feels more like a pleasant malt shop than a McDonald's assembly line.

Should you venture to Fatburger yourself, prepare for a most unusual degree of choice. Burgers come in five sizes, ranging from 2.5 ounces up to a nearly unfathomable 24 ounces ($2.99-$9.29). They also come with a fine selection of toppings, including fried eggs and chili.

Kanye West is the man responsible for bringing Fatburger to Chicago (his company has rights to 10 local franchises) and the chain seems to have at least one thing in common with Mr. West: an ego. A neon sign proclaiming "The last great hamburger stand" hangs prominently over the dining room-a bold claim indeed, given that Beverly's venerable Top Notch Beefburger is just down the road, and, well ... let's get to it, shall we?

BURGERELLI'S BREAKDOWN

The burger: Fatburger uses surprisingly lean beef for its patties. They are not dripping with juices or oozing grease, and in fact, they are not terribly fat burgers at all. They are, however, rather chewy.

The bun: A squishy plain white bun is no match for Fatburger toppings. To compensate, each burger comes neatly wrapped in paper to hold the component parts together. This is a nice touch for a refined gentleman who prefers lettuce not to tumble from his burger as he eats, but a worthy bun really should not require an assist.

The fixings: Eureka! So this is why they call it Fatburger. The standard complement of toppings includes lettuce, tomato, relish, onions, pickles, mustard and mayo, and you are free to add cheese, bacon, a fried egg or chili for an extra charge.

Everything else: Fries come in two varieties: thick-cut fat fries and standard skinny fries. I found both lackluster, particularly the skinny fries, which had a consistency that indicated a not-quite-hot-enough fryer.

And thus we arrive at Fatburger's redeeming offering: shakes. Thick, blended just so and capped with a dollop of whipped cream, I found them an unexpectedly satisfying addition to an otherwise underwhelming menu.

Burgerelli's bottom line: If you happen to be in the neighborhood and craving a shake, by all means, do stop in.

The Great Burgerelli is a connoisseur of burgers. Send him suggestions at gburgerelli@tribune.com.

Add a comment