Mini-Review: Monkey Burger

Readers of this blog may remember my mini-review of Burger City a few months back. Today, Burger City remains closed for renovations, and its future seems uncertain. But the executive chef and co-founder of Burger City has moved on to Monkey Burger, over at Broadway and Craycroft right next to the Cactus Moon. At one time, Monkey Burger was slated to open as Burger City II, but the two restaurants have decided to part company for undisclosed reasons. The complimentary pickle bar may be gone, but Monkey Burger brings back the delicious gourmet burgers with a righteous vengeance.

The walls of Monkey Burger are lined with monkey murals. The interior has a sparse, industrial look. The menu recalls Burger City's early selection, before its selections became progressively more uninteresting. I chose the Madness burger, with jalapeno slices, shredded lettuce, fajita peppers, pepper jack cheese, and a Tabasco scallion aioli, and opted for Monkey Burger's signature side dish: the fried pickle slices. The burger was spicy, yet not overpoweringly so, and maintained a light and tangy sweetness. The bun was large and moist, yet not so large as to make it impossible to eat by hand. The fried pickles were...interesting. I love pickles, and I love fried foods, but I'm not a fan of carnival-style novelty fried dishes, so I approached this dish with skepticism. At first blush the slices struck me as soggy. But I gradually acquired a taste for them as I made my way through the basket. I liked the interplay of saltiness and fried crispiness, but I'm not sure I'll eschew the traditional comfort of fries on my next visit.

I hope Burger City returns. But if if doesn't, or if it never returns to its former glory, I'm glad that Monkey Burger has arrived to fill the burger void.

Great Moments in Sandwiches vol. IV

Bacon spam on rustic sourdough with mustard greens, sea salt, cracked pepper, egg over easy, onions, and jalapenos.

Bacon-wrapped Matzoh Balls

A friend tipped me off to this sacril-icious culinary fad. Former Top Chef Ilan Hall is an advocate:

“The bacon-wrapped matzah ball thing was a little bit of a joke — a tongue-in-cheek thing I did for a friend’s birthday party in New York,” said the loquacious chef, sporting his signature dark-rimmed glasses as he sat at the restaurant’s wooden communal table, his design. “He was a fellow Jew and not kosher at all, and I thought it would be kind of funny to do. I tried it and loved it. It came out really nice. Pork fat does something magical to matzah meal.”

I am no stranger to mixing the sacred and the profane. At this year's seder, an intrepid guest proposed the open-faced bacon matzoh sandwich which turned out quite well:

Winter Green Season Is Fast Approaching!

...and the best thing I can say about it is that many delicious sandwiches shall be made.

Pictures of said sandwiches shall follow.

But otherwise, I will struggle once again with the difficult task of preparing the bushels of greens I will receive from my CSA share. Ideas, tips, throw 'em my way.

Mini-Review Daily Double: Bisbee Breakfast Club and Savory Spot

This is the Chorizos Rancheros plate at the Bisbee Breakfast Club, and it is the most beautiful scramble plate I've ever seen. Look at the collections of scrambled egg and salsa that grow forth through the mass of cheese like moss on some heavenly terrain where breakfast foods grow from the ground. (Don't laugh, I have dreamed of such a place.) Gasp at the island of chopped avocado perched lovingly at the top. Sigh with delight as you discover the bits of chorizo lodged inside, like little nuggets of deliciousness. Yeah, it was really good. The BBC decor is bright in the morning hours, with a storefront that faces the direction of the old mine. Inside, it's like a honkytonk bar designed by reforming young urbanites. The place has wonky hours, open from 7-12 on weekdays and closed Tuesdays. But if you're waking up from a stay at the Shady Dell or on your way back from an early morning visit at the Cochise County Jail, it's the perfect breakfast stop.



The Savory Spot is hip and humble, run by a pleasant group of hippies with ample reading material (stacks upon stacks of GQs, Vanity Fairs, and Spin!). The true test of a good breakfast place is the quality of its home fries, and the Spot's don't disappoint: they're a tad peppery and crusty, and just soft enough on the inside. The over easy eggs were prepared perfectly. The sausage was decent, not spectacular, but I'm pretty forgiving when it comes to pork. The Spot also has a complete dinner menu, which I expect I'll be checking out soon; it's just down the road from the court house.

Memo to the Grill

You suck. Seriously.

No more pussy footing around it. You're just not really all that great. Yeah, I know, I eat your food frequently because you're the only restaurant open in downtown Tucson at ungodly hours, but I'm through pretending that I like it. Really, the only reason most people eat at the Grill is for the tater tots, something I can handle quite ably myself with a bag of Ore-Ida and an oven.

Ohh, but then I would miss out on the vaunted atmosphere, a.k.a. the deafening noise from the Red Room next door (technically part of the Grill itself) and the snooty tattooed waiters who are more interested in talking to their friends than checking on my damn order.

Let me further note that of all the times I've had beers at the Red Room, they've all been shit. Maybe I just suck at picking good beers, because I tend to go by novelty names and oddball countries, but I'm inclined to blame you. Word to the wise, dear reader: Croatian brewery workers secretly pee in their beer.

Mini-Review: Harvest Restaurant

Here's an aphorism that will serve you well, and that sums up my thoughts on Harvest succintly: don't ever go to a well-regarded restaurant and order the beef stew, especially at lunch, and especially on a weekend.

Harvest is located a block from the Oro Valley Town Hall complex on La Canada, and sits in a shopping mall with an awe-inspiring view of the mountains. Harvest's schtick is that it uses all locally-grown ingredients, with a menu that shifts every season (having opened just this past November, it's about to undergo its first such shift). In cases where there are no locally-grown or raised items available -- fish, for example -- they are obtained through economically sustainable means. (See the whitefish BLT, for example.)

We had two appetizers: the brie plate, with seasoned fruit chutneys, roasted garlic, and Arizona grapes, and the Harvest empanadas filled with beef, figs, olives, egg, and served with a side of chimmichuri sauce. Both were fantastic. The empanadas were delicate, light, and yielded with the sweetest pillowy softness. The whitefish BLT was stellar as well, with perfectly cooked fish and some of the tastiest bacon I've ever sampled.

But the beef stew, pictured above, was a disaster. Made with butternut squash and green chiles, I had trouble discerning the flavor of either, and found myself reaching for the salt and pepper with each bite. The tortillas served as accompaniment were dry and unexciting. The beef was turgid, rough, and not at all appetizing. I imagine this dish was probably cobbled together from a previous night's leftovers. And the portion was surprisingly small for $13, given that Feast regularly serves a similar stew with much larger portions at a similar price (not that I was clamoring for more when I had my plate taken away).

I'd like to try Harvest again for dinner. But as for the stew? Never again. Unless I'm at Feast.