Review: Shake Shack
66 E. Ohio St. 312-667-1701
Rating: !!! 1/2 (out of four)
If the world were a perfect place, I, the Great Burgerelli, would eat all my burgers in my Tuscan summer castle, Castello di Burgerelli. I am, after all, a man of means and taste. However, I am also a man on an interminable quest for the world's best burgers. If I have learned anything in my journeys, it is that perfect patties are often located in humble environs: joints, holes-in-the-wall, huts, and yes, shacks. It is for this very reason that I anticipated a visit to Chicago's first Shake Shack.
The story: It is not inconceivable that Shake Shack would shine in Chicago, for the original location in New York's Madison Square Park would not exist without the inspiration of this very city. Legendary restaurateur Danny Meyer of Union Square Hospitality-which owns and operates each and every Shake Shack location, you should know-is a native of St. Louis with family in Chicago. When he was approached to operate a hot dog cart as part of an art installation in the park, he drew on his childhood memories, serving not a New York wiener, but a Chicago-style hot dog. "Danny said if we were going to operate a cart, it couldn't be like every other corner hot stand in New York, where you'd be lucky to get a smile with your dog," said Mark Rosati, Shake Shack's culinary director. "He wanted to add to the dialogue of what a hot dog cart could be and the idea of serving a dog with relish, tomatoes and pickles and all the fixings really stood out." When Union Square Hospitality was asked to turn that dog cart in to a full kiosk, Meyer again turned to his childhood for inspiration. Inspired by the great metropolis of St. Louis and its famous frozen custard, he planned to serve shakes alongside their natural accompaniment, burgers.
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The burger: Shake Shack's patty is a mix of fresh, never frozen beef-a blend developed with New York's legendary meat purveyor Pat LaFrieda-is 100-percent antibiotic and hormone-free. But as you know, The Great Burgerelli is not swayed by fancy pedigrees; it is all about what my palate tells me. My tongue was tickled by this loosely packed nest of well-griddled, uniformly caramelized and juicy medium-well meat. While there is nothing wrong with a single, these burgers are quite thin. I found that doubling up on the patties created the most ideal meat-to-bun ratio.
The roll: The maker of the potato roll that holds Shake Shack's excellent burgers, Martin's of Chambersburg, Penn., describes the rolls as a "hug for your sandwich". I would have to agree, they were rich and pliant like a Parker House roll.
The fixings: One can order a vegetarian portobello 'Shroom Burger ($6.90), a plain hamburger ($3.95 single, $6.15 double), or even a secret burger with a slather of peanut butter and bacon. I instead focused my attention with laser-like focus on the Shackburger ($4.95 single, pictured above left; $7.65 double) and the SmokeShack ($6.45 single, pictured above right; $9.15 double). The Shackburger is a cheeseburger topped with tomato, lettuce and ShackSauce. Much like McDonald's famous special sauce, ShackSauce is mayonnaise-based, but it is more nuanced, featuring sweet, tangy and spicy notes. The SmokeShack is a cheeseburger topped with the beforementioned ShackSauce, chopped cherry peppers and thick planks of applewood-smoked bacon-not those weak, translucent shavings I have encountered at other fast-food facilities. While bacon does indeed make everything better, the real star here are the spicy pickled cherry peppers, which have a bright acidity that cuts through the richness of the whole stack and lifts the burger to legendary heights.
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The fries: While the burgers are certifiably splendid, there has been some controversy, one might say, over Shake Shack's crinkle-cut french fries ($2.90). Unlike almost everything else at Shake Shack, they are not made in house. Shake Shack responded by recently offering fresh-cut double fried fresh fries in their place, but fans clamored for a return of the crinkle-cuts. And so, they have made valiant comeback, only this time made from higher-quality potatoes with no added preservatives or seasonings, and that's what the Chicago location now serves. "There was something nostalgic about the crinkle cut people loved," Rosati said. "They have more surface area and soak up ketchup better."
Though I was mighty skeptical at first, I now wholeheartedly agree with Rosati's assessment. In a city with plenty of hand-cut fries, I simply cannot deny that the crinkle does indeed stand out. Despite being frozen before cooked, the crinkle-cut fries are incredibly crisp, well-salted and have a warm, golden hue. They are even better when drizzled with the house-made cheese sauce ($3.90, pictured above) made from cream and a blend of two cheeses. Though Rosati would not reveal to me the precise blend, I believe I detected a note of sharp cheddar; the texture was almost like a creamy spreadable butter, the opposite of gloppy, off-putting Velveeta.
The drinks: The namesake frozen custard shakes ($5.15) made with hormone-free milks are luscious. I especially liked the peanut butter flavor, which featured a chocolate custard base and reminded me of a liquid Reese's peanut butter cup. I also enjoyed the strawberry shake, but it was not as quite as marvelous as the strawberry shake at M Burger, which features chewy bits of fruit. In addition to the shakes, I sampled the ShackMeister ale ($5.25), a proprietary beer brewed in collaboration with Brooklyn Brewery. The red-hued beer was spicy, bitter and a extraordinary foil to the sweetness of the Shacksauce found on the burgers.
Bottom line: My fellow burger-loving friends, you will have a tough time finding a superior sub-$5 fast-food cheeseburger in Chicago than the one served at Shake Shack. I do proclaim this one of the city's greatest patties.
The Great Burgerelli is a fearless seeker of fine burgers. gburgerelli@redeyechicago.com