BURGER TALK 

New York transplants like myself have been bitching about the pizza in L.A. for as long as there have been cross-country flights.  But over the years I stopped complaining about what I lost by moving west and started appreciating what I gained--L.A. is a phenomenal town for burgers. From the beloved Double-Double at In-N-Out to the decadent “Big Mec” at Petit Trois, no city has made the burger its own quite like Los Angeles.   

So for my first official foray into the food blogosphere, I decided to check out one of the few burger joints in the area I hadn't been to yet, a place in Silver Lake with a great rep called THE FIX.  I got there and ordered enough food for two; my friend and fellow burger fanatic Dave would be joining me.  By the time he arrived, the food was on the table.   Dave barely said hello before he sat down and dug in.  I did the same.

It only took one bite of my Silver Lake Burger (Angus patty, cheddar, bacon) to realize everything I had heard about The Fix was true.   It was fantastic- a juicy, thick slab of beef, gobs of cheese and crispy bacon slices nestled between a fresh, soft bun. I was in burger heaven. But as much as I was enjoying the meal, Dave seemed to be having a trans formative experience.  The burger was actually bringing him to tears…which was kind of odd.

“Becca’s leaving me.”

I stopped mid-bite.  “What are you talking about?”

“She threw me out. I haven’t seen my kids in weeks.”

I had hoped Dave and I would have some laughs and maybe talk about what makes a great burger. This wasn’t the conversation I was prepared for, especially on my first day as a food blogger.  But I figured I could do my job and be a good friend at the same time. What choice did I have?

His story was banal to the point of cliche, shocking only because it involved people I knew personally: A marriage gone stale; a chance encounter with his daughter’s teaching assistant at Starbucks; flirty texts that led to drinks, and then…

The Fix serves a burger that's massive and mouth-watering

"I couldn’t stop myself. I knew it was wrong, but Jesus…she made me feel things I thought were dead inside of me.  And the sex, my God it was unreal!  She fucked like an animal!” He said this last part a little too loud, making me uncomfortable. I instinctively shoved one of the delicious complimentary pickle spears into my mouth, more for emotional support than anything else.

Of course, it all went to hell. “Becca found some pics on my phone. It was like I wanted to get caught.” She threw him out that night.  “It’s all gone, everything we built together.  And for what?"  I sat there taking in everything Dave was saying while munching on Garlic Fries…crisp and perfectly seasoned, the garlic cloves elevating them past the point of mere fried potatoes.  A must get. 

The garlic fries: best on the east side and perfect for sharing.

“You know, I have a buddy who once told me he and his ex-wife grew apart so gradually that when it was finally over he couldn’t even give a specific reason," Dave mused. "But it wasn’t like that for me at all.  I knew exactly what the problem was, but instead of dealing with it I got resentful and acted like an asshole.”  All I could do was nod.  Dave was hurting and I wanted to say something…anything…to take his pain away.

“We should get onion rings.”

Dave just stared at me.  “Onion rings?  What are you talking about? Onion rings? This is my life!” he said, throwing his  Seoul burger (mushroom, kimchi, Korean BBQ sauce) down in disgust.  “I mean…Goddammit!”  He was right to be angry, and I felt ashamed. The truth is, I’m not good in these situations; I never know what to say. Dave’s crisis had made me realize my own shortcomings as a friend.

I ordered the onion rings anyway.  They were a revelation--flawlessly executed spheres of crunchy, onion-y goodness.  Highly recommended.

We sat there for a while longer. I sucked down one of the Fix’s signature Oreo shakes—made with home spun ice cream—as Dave laid out his plans for the future.  Find an affordable apartment with enough room for his kids.  Go into therapy.  Rebuild. “Honestly, I have no idea I'm doing,” he admitted.    

These onion rings can put a smile on anyone's face.

Dave just stared off into space, contemplating the mess he made until he reached across the table and picked up an onion ring.  “This is really good.”  I was happy to see him eat. Maybe in some small way I had helped after all.

After that we said our goodbyes.  I walked back to my car with thoughts about my friend’s plight and memories of an amazing meal battling for space in my head. Then I drove back home to digest everything. I was meeting friends for Mexican in a few hours, and hoped that my dinner plans would be much less dramatic.

The Fix Burger ***1/2 out of ****, 2520 Hyperion Avenue, Los Angeles CA 90027 (323) 661-8494