“Damn, this kicks the shit out of Pop Burger.”
That was my first impression of the delicious mini Chicago burger ($3.25) I snacked on recently at New York Burger Co. in the Flatiron, and I’m sticking to it.
I have major beef with Pop Burger, whose over-priced minis are premade, packaged in two-packs and sit there, cooling off and drying out.
Here, a cheat sheet on what New York Burger Co. does so right:
— All burgers here are made to order, meaning the meat doesn’t hit the grilltop until the order goes through.
— All burgers are cooked to the doneness of your preference, even the minis. It’s hard enough to monitor the doneness of a regular, 6 oz. or 8 oz. burger, which makes cooking the minis even more of an exact science.
— The mini Chicago burger had plenty of goodness on top — cherrywood smoked bacon, melted cheddar cheese and 1,000 island sauce, in addition to lettuce and tomato — but more basic burgers, and fries, benefit from your choice of playful toppings including chili pepper ketchup, curry mango mustard and horseradish sauce.
Next time …
New York Burger Co., 303 Park Ave. S., btwn. 23rd and 24th streets, 212-254-2727
of an all-in-one megastore, like the Super Targets that populate the Twin Cities, you will make a pilgrimage there.


No fancy cheeses (although I do love ‘em), no Chinatown-sourced delectables (although I love those, too), no ordering involved (or cooking really, either) — just simple food of the sort that people can gather around and share, along with the latest family news.
The better news is that the contents inside — graham snacks in a cute bunny shape, in the flavors of honey, chocolate and chocolate chip — go really well with a cup of tea and really aren’t bad for you.
I look this plate of nuts and raisins and apple crisps and the hard-boiled egg, and I think that wow, this really is something I could have found if I had to forage in a forrest — instead of my fridge/the city.
Taco sharks attack!
Maybe it was the vaguely fin-shaped lettuce tidbit protruding from the mini taco shell, but suddenly the mini chicken tacos became sharks — taco sharks, to be exact — swarming, circling, on my small plate.
Sometimes there’s just no time to eat a full breakfast, let alone make one.
I call this meal: Lazy American version of “Le Tartine Chaude au Bleu des Causses et Jambon Cru les Bacchantes.”