The argument of “best burger” is relative. There isn’t really the best way to make a burger, there are just bad ways to go about it. And there will always be the local denizen joints that we’ve all come to love; Ganim’s, Sam’s, or Roam Artisan Burgers come to mind. I’m sure I’m forgetting all the other neighborhood bombs in San Francisco.
In my search for the burger, I’ve actually come to learn more about myself. And I hope the list that I humbly present to you may find culinary revelations in each of these masterpieces.*
Honorable Mention: Truffle Burger at Umami Burger. Marina.
Despite the fact that it’s a chain not from San Francisco, I am personally a fan. It’s technically located in our city so I’m allowed to blog about it. Actually, screw you, I can write whatever I want.
The place secretes the vision of serving you an awesome burger. Despite the raves for their flagship Umami Burger, I believe their best candidate has been the Truffle Burger all along. A 6-ounce patty that’s always done medium rare topped with a mild truffle-infused cheese and glaze, and nothing else allows their master “secret” Umami sauce shine through. The simple trappings of the Truffle allow the beef to come through. As LA Burger describes it:
There’s no lettuce, tomato or anything else to get in the way of experiencing the fifth taste sensation of umami found in truffles – their rich, earthy, full-bodied deliciousness.
I think the house-made ice cream sandwich was the final nail in the coffin. Crowd pleasers, believe.
5. Burger at Fish & Farm. Civic Center/Tenderloin.
To be honest, this burger would’ve been so much higher on the list if not for the fact a) the spokeswoman for this establishment abhors this burger (she said it brought in and I quote, “a lower class of patrons”), and b) the service has been its greatest flaw.
Strangely, its pedigree is not “gourmet” if you really break it down. It’s probably one of the “wettest” burgers on this list. 7×7 notes:
The Niman beef is not ground in-house and the grilled Acme brioche bun becomes one with an umami-tastic “secret sauce”— spiked with fresh green peppercorns and heady with horseradish—dripping down the sides. The lily is gilded with grilled onions, housemade pickles, melted Cabot cheddar and a steak knife thrust, rather thrillingly, into the center.
Conclusion: come for the “Farm” and not so much for the “Fish” and you’ll be in great hands. I tearfully await the day they remove this beauty from the menu. In the meantime, bring extra napkins. The Seven Years of Plenty just showed up early. Read the rest of this entry »