Meatzilla!

The Place
Meatzilla!
646 South Main Street
Los Angeles, CA 90014

IMG_1507
Dip your toe into the internet musings about Meatzilla, and you likely will find yourself annoyed.  The exclamatory nomenclature.  The burger with a pepperoni pizza bun.  The unshakable feeling that everything about the place was conceived with a smirk.  Indeed, even without the deviant punctuation, the name itself is really an etude in hipster snark. There’s very little in the reportage about this place that would inspire any reasonable person to take it seriously.

Most of this stuff had escaped me when DJ, a partner in my office, told me he had it on good authority that Meatzilla made the best burger in Downtown Los Angeles.  Now, having waxed adoring on a different downtown burger myself, I felt predictably compelled to investigate.  So I headed over to Meatzilla with Bret and Greg.  It’s a shack on Main Street, a pretty barebones affair, with a cramped kitchen, a whiteboard menu, stacks of soda boxes filling a side doorway, and a playlist like a Tarantino soundtrack. If they’re trying to project the image of hustling newcomers just trying to make it, it’s coming off gangbusters.  Think Steinbeck repurposed for the Snapchat generation.  Okay, that might be overstating the point a bit, but you get the idea.

The Order: Beef! Beef!

The Price: $9.50

The Burger
The whole concept of the place may seem tongue-in-cheek and affected, but the fare on offer is far from it.  While there are some experimental items on the menu to be sure, Meatzilla is conceptually a purist’s burger joint, whose bread and butter is no-frills, beef-forward presentations redolent more of summer cookout than a hipster Thanksgiving.

The Beef! Beef!, for instance, features two absolutely mammoth patties with discs of housemade pickles about the diameter of a nickel laid sporadically on top, along with tangy white onion.  A thick primordial ooze of cheese – Muenster on one patty and American on the other – drips from the meat.  You might mistake it for a runny fried egg (which you can add, by the way, for a buck fifty).  A generous – but not excessive – helping of Sriracha ketchup films both buns.  And that’s it.  No lettuce, no tomato, none of the other standard garnishes.

The beef is flavorful and surprisingly not overwhelming.  It was a hair overcooked, and while that normally wouldn’t be an issue, when there’s this much beef, there’s a smaller margin for error.  The pickles were utterly exceptional though, perfectly sour and with a healthy snap to them.  The onions were similarly well integrated, soaked in ketchup, and smartly kept raw to add more crunch and tang to complement the massive amounts of beef.  The ketchup was not overpowering, offering a nice sweet-hot undertone to each bite without being too assertive.  The cheese was a coup: gooey, rich, and indulgent, it gave every bite a sumptuous, smooth warmth.

All these garnishes, though, were just complementary though.  While Burgerlords and In-N-Out seek to harmonize all the ingredients into a coherent, synthesized whole in which all the components cooperate to create something larger than the sum of its parts, Meatzilla is, true to its name, a beef-first and beef-last kind of enterprise.  If, at Burgerlords, the burger is an orchestra in which the meat is just one instrument, at Meatzilla, the beef is the soloist, with other instruments there to add color and texture, but never to command your attention.

So is this the best burger in Los Angeles?  I guess that depends.  This burger is not a work of art.  But I left my meal with a pretty clear understanding of why someone might fall in love with it.  If you think a burger should be an unapologetically beef-focused dish, Meatzilla will appeal to you.  They’re about beef.  Not about buns (though the bun holds up impressively here, even if it isn’t the most dynamic component of the burger), or garnishes, or balance, or anything else.  But beef.

What’s more, there’s a sentimentality inherent in this dish.  Meatzilla has the sort of unbalanced charm that will take you back to the backyard cookouts with friends you only distantly remember from a washed-out photograph.  The smell of the grill would waft over and intermix with the harsh scent of chlorinated water.  It’s the burger you ate before you cared that soda was bad for you.  It’s the burger you ate before you started obsessing over calorie counts and carbohydrates.  It’s the burger that would buckle a paper plate.  It’s the burger you ate before you became a well-heeled culinary connoisseur and forgot how to enjoy something unsophisticated.  It’s the burger you ate when you cared more that your food was fun rather than an immaculately curated art project, when it didn’t matter if a dish wasn’t a perfectly manicured harmony of flavors and textures.

The last word is that while it’s hard for me to say this is downtown’s best burger, it’s hard to argue it isn’t either.  It’s a strange, unsettled feeling I left with, but it’s a feeling that is pulling me back to Meatzilla for another visit.  Which, at bottom, is all that matters, I guess.

The Ratings
Flavor: 8.60 / 10.00
Freshness / Quality: 8.80 / 10.00
Value: 9.00 / 10.00
Efficiency: 9.50 / 10.00
Creativity / Style: 7.50 / 10.00
Bun: 8.00 / 10.00
Patty: 8.70 / 10.00
Toppings: 8.70 / 10.00
Sauce: 7.90 / 10.00
Balance: 7.90 / 10.00

Total: 84.60 / 100.00

Burgerlords x Otium: Burger Merger No. 1

The Place

image

Burger Merger No. 1: Burgerlords x Otium
943 North Broadway
Los Angeles, CA 90012

When Otium opened in 2015, it surely was one of the most hotly anticipated restaurant openings Los Angeles had seen in some time.  Nestled in the crook of a grove of dust-green olive trees and the hivelike Broad Museum, this cantilevered structure of wood and glass – with its sinewy steel beams and vaulting ceilings – drew attention for its architecture before it every plated a dish.

When finally it did open, there was the requisite amount of buzz.  Some loved it, others hated it.  But regardless of where your allegiances may fall in the J-Gold / B(a)esha Rodell clash (in case you were wondering, Otium doesn’t crack my top ten (or twenty (or thirty)) restaurants in the city; I think it’s very good, ambitious but not indispensable), one thing was certain: through Otium, Timothy Hollingsworth sought to leave a footprint, to be among the most significant restaurants in the city.

Has Chef Hollingsworth achieved his goal?  That probably depends on who you ask.  Some say Hollingsworth is among the preeminent chefs in Los Angeles already.  That’s not an outrageous claim (to be sure, it’s impressive that after so brief a spell in the city, he can have so dedicated a following) but if we’re being honest, the plaudits probably are a little premature.  Like, Brandon Ingram has a smooth jump shot and can get to the rack in style, but he’s not the franchise yet, you know?

Weirdly enough, the clearest evidence of this has come when he stepped out of his open kitchen by the Broad and ventured east and north, into Chinatown, to Burgerlords, slinging special collaboration burgers, which will be available every Monday in October.  The so-called Burger Merger presented a more aw-shucks picture of Tim Hollingsworth.  Clad in skinny jeans and a t-shirt commemorating the collaboration, flax-blonde hair styled in a very in-style undercut, he navigated the gathered crowd with easy charm and familiarity.

In this inaugural Burger Murger, Hollingsworth put forth two offerings: a barbecued eel burger, which is the object of this review (and which Nikhil, Adam, and I ordered), and a vegan burger (ordered by Kelsey as part of what I can only conclude is a campaign to humiliate herself and discredit me), which is the object of nothing more than my pervasive and fundamental contempt.

The Order: Barbecued Eel Burger

The Price:

The Burger
If you’re like me, you’ll have questions as you approach this event.  What is the point of this collaboration?  What exactly is a barbecued eel burger?  Is it a ground eel patty?  Is it a slab of eel in lieu of a patty?  Is that vegan judging me?  Is the eel a topping?  Is this going to be disgusting?  Is this event moving the ball towards Timothy Hollingsworth being an L.A. food icon?  Did anyone order the vegan burger?  Did I leave my car lights on?

You might not come away with clear answers to those questions after eating this burger.  I can tell you this much: There is a beef patty.  The burger features shishito peppers, scallions, tomato, avocado, mayonnaise, and barbecued eel.

Here’s the problem: When you brand something as a barbecued eel burger, customers will fairly expect to know where the eel is, to be able to identify it visually and within the flavor profile of the burger.  That’s not possible here.  This burger was good, but it didn’t taste like a barbecued eel burger.  The eel, sliced into oblivion, did little besides add a little extra savor to every bite, a sort of fish-saucy roundness to the finish (it might have balanced better had there been an extra patty; the single patty was a bit paltry for my taste).  That’s fine, but let’s be clear: Calling this a barbecued eel burger was a branding choice made to offer the appearance of innovative sophistication.  It wasn’t a reflection of the actual flavor profile of the burger.

Besides that, it’s a relatively milquetoast offering, defined only by its internal conflict.  The toppings compete rather than cooperate.  The shishitos are masked by the overwhelming savor of the meats.  The traces of avocado within an overwhelming matrix of mayonnaise get lost like a ship in fog.  A thick slice of tomato, juicy and bright, is the highlight of the toppings, but simultaneously renders what otherwise might have been subtly cooling fronds of scallion little more than bitter whispers.

So sure, this burger will draw a lot of attention.  There will be lines across the courtyard and – probably – plaudits from Hollingsworth’s faithful (who, weirdly enough, can approach Beyhive/Belieber/Team Breezy levels of fervor).  In the end, though, this first Burger Merger feels like little more than an exercise public relations symbiosis.  I’ll stop short of saying it’s cynical, because the product isn’t bad.  But it’s a way to increase Burgerlords’ profile while making Timothy Hollingsworth seem a little more integrated into this city.  At that much – and probably not more than that much – it will be successful.

The Ratings:
Flavor: 8.10 / 10.00
Freshness/Quality: 10.00 / 10.00
Efficiency: 7.90 / 10.00
Value: 9.00 / 10.00
Creativity/Style: 9.50 / 10.00
Bun: 9.60 / 10.00
Patty: 7.40 / 10.00
Toppings: 6.40 / 10.00
Sauce: 6.10 / 10.00
Balance: 7.20 / 10.00

Total: 81.20 / 100.00