Burger review: Umami Burger
1480 N. Milwaukee Ave. 773-423-2005
Rating: 3.5 (out of four)
No one of my grooming and sophistication would be caught doing something as crude as, say, making a joke beginning with, sigh, "Yo Momma." In my cuisine-savvy household as a boy, though, my brother and I would often engage in a different kind of comic battle. "Umami so delicious," he once said to me, "It makes the fifth taste seem like the sixth taste."
Neither one of us won "Best sense of humor" in high school. I did take home "Nicest ascot."
As I'm sure you know, "umami" is Japanese for a savory taste separate from the usual four flavor types: salty, sweet, sour and bitter. Don't concern yourself with being able to define it. You just have to know never to say, "I can really taste the umami." No, you cannot. Umami is not a seasoning. It is more a state of mind, achieved by eating foods such as shiitake mushrooms, parmesan cheese and anchovies. It's also a burger-focused restaurant that originated in Los Angeles in 2009 and delightfully arrived in Wicker Park last week. (Umami Burger currently has 24 locations, primarily in California.) This was not a secret: On opening night, The Great Burgerelli was quoted a wait of nearly two hours. Needless to say, your trusted burger connoisseur left and returned the following evening.
The burger: Now this is medium-rare with confidence. Juicy is an understatement; I could not contain my smile upon consumption of this highly impressive six-ounce patty made from steak that is ground right on the premises. While grilling, patties are covered with Umami Master Sauce (available for purchase at umami.com), a secret sauce containing fish oils, seaweed and kelp, and sprinkled with Umami Dust (which is mostly dehydrated mushrooms, I am told) before arriving at my table.
The bun: I've always known "Looks can be deceiving" as a line Parisian pickpockets say when swiping your wallet. But in the case of Umami's bun, it is true. What appears to be basic and bland (with a big letter "U" crassly stamped on it in vegetable-based, flavorless ink, no less) proves not only unexpectedly sweet and buttery but plenty up to the task of containing the pleasures inside. Nobody buns like a pretzel bun buns, but this darling holds its own.
The fixings: Here is where certain burgers stood apart from their brethren. While good enough, the Original ($12) was overwhelmed by its roasted tomato, and one shiitake mushroom hiding on the center of the patty meant many bites did not include it at all. Caramelized onions failed to blend with the disc of crispy parmesan on a burger that was less than the sum of its parts. That said, the truffle aioli, truffle glaze and house truffle cheese on the Truffle Burger ($12) were purely sinful-note: the truffles come from Truffle Brothers in Chicago-and the exceptional Manly Burger ($12), adorned with brown ale-flavored cheddar sauce, bacon lardons (that's fatty, juicy chunks to you) and crispy onion strings dusted with smoked salt made me want to grab a cold brew and turn on the game. I jest, of course. Mostly.
The fries: Sweet potato fries ($4) were a bit pedestrian. Happily, the ordinary ol' thin fries ($3.50) were crispy and nicely salty, mixing beautifully with the venue's array of sauces. The habanero-flavored "diablo" was this spice-lover's favorite, though the jalapeno ranch-which should have been called ranch jalapeno to reflect the order in which the flavors arrive-and, to a lesser extent, garlic aioli enhanced the skinny bites of potato nicely. The Umami house ketchup was both different enough to identify as unique and ambiguous enough to rank last as a dipping option. The pricey fries with truffle cheese fondue and truffle salt ($6.50), however, needed no dipping at all. Heaven.
Everything else: You are a fool if you say a piece of bacon lowers the elegance of an old fashioned. The maple-bacon old fashioned ($11) wonderfully holds back its saltiness until late in each sip, and consuming the bacon resting on the ice cube after finishing the cocktail was divine, if undignified. (Obviously, maple-bacon anything is commonly unimpeachable.) Three facts also worth noting, in no particular order: Ask for the cheesy tots ($5), hand-rolled, panko-crusted tots stuffed with cheddar and parmesan that are always available but not on the menu because of how much labor they require; the Andy Samberg-created Samberger ($13) is inspired by a Chicago-style hot dog and features sport peppers, mustard and relish (on special as of Sept. 23); additional Chicago locations for Umami Burger are reportedly being scouted.
Bottom line:"The food was so good I forgot about my beer," my lovely female companion declared. Considering the high-quality beer list at Umami Burger (get the Imperial IPA Oscar Blues G'Knight on tap, $6 and 8.7 percent ABV), that is saying something. The considerably fine burger should alleviate any stress you may feel from paying upwards of $20, including tax and tip, for a burger and fries. By the way, if my brother tells you that I used to scream, "Umami" whenever I skinned my knee, do not believe him. We were instructed to always call our parents by Father and Mother, thank you very much.
The Great Burgerelli is a fearless seeker of fine burgers.