One visit. One meal. One chance to get it right — Burger bar face-off edition
MEAT UP | The Roadhouse at Ketchup, top (backed by a selection of condiments), and the Texas Luau at Grub, below, both have their champions … but which one is better? (Arnold Wayne Jones/Dallas Voice)
ARNOLD WAYNE JONES | Life+Style Editor
Dallas is beefeater country, and I don’t mean that guards from the Tower of London vacation here. We like our steaks, but just as much, our burgers. So how does a local newcomer on the burger market (Grub) stack up against an established hand (Ketchup)? That’s what I wanted to know.
Ketchup Bar
My waitress cracked a Mona Lisa smile when I ordered my burger: “Medium rare,” I said.
I sensed she doesn’t get that response much when she asks customers for their preferred level of doneness.
Medium, medium-well, even well-done are the default levels of beef cooking, and that makes sensible carnivores sad. Yes, you definitely want that fast-food burger cooked solidly through, killing off all the alien entities that may linger inside a shingle of mystery meat. But if you’re gonna serve “gourmet burgers” — like they do at Ketchup Bar, the longstanding Uptown eatery where I was dining — your patties had better be high quality. In other words: If your beef is the star, let its flavors shine through.
Only at Ketchup, beef isn’t the star. Yes, the meat is important, but note: It’s not in the name — the condiment is. I’m usually a mayo-with-fries kinda guy, but ordering anything but catsup would fail to leverage your experience.
My waitress slapped down three squirt bottles of the tomato spread for my experimenting pleasure: the house blend, the habanero, the chipotle. And they are definitely the savory raison d’etre.
The house and habanero have flecks of spices floating around inside like bloody snowglobes. The house, a dark red, is sweet but not sugary, while the habanero — a saffrony yellow — starts sweet as well, but builds heat over time. To maximize the impact, I continually squeezed lines of both directly only the edges of my Roadhouse (a bacon-cheeseburger with fried onion rings and a trail of aioli on the bun, $11), and even on this rich sandwich, the ketchups stood out.
That’s not a criticism of the burgers themselves; the medium rareness was definitely a plus, although the dripping juices began to break down the integrity of the bun near the end, and as any foodie knows, bun integrity is the ne plus ultra of good burgers. The thick home fries were slightly greasy, but ultimately, useful for what they needed to be: Ketchup delivery devices. That’s what you want here, after all.
Grub Burger Bar
Virtually every parking space in the lot outside of Grub, the burger bar on Greenville Avenue near SMU, is marked “compact car only.” That’s a mixed message — what kind of person likely to eat at a place called Grub, overwhelmingly serving beer and slabs of meat, will fit comfortably in a compact? No one pays attention, anyway. You squeeze in the slot, you squeeze into the restaurant, you squeeze into the cafeteria-like line to order, you squeeze into your pants. It’s probably the most exercise you’ll get that day.
The hubbub and Grub is something of a marathon itself. I ate at the bar, where single seats (and doubles) are easier to come by and the menu is identical. I wasn’t here to socialize; I was here to eat. And it’s easy to feast on the Angus patties on thus menu. There’s a section called “snacks” and even one “from the garden,” but this is carnivore country, let’s face it.
You can even mix up your animal meal at will, like I did ordering the Texas Luau ($7.5 solo; $11.25 with drink and sweet potato fries): A beef cheeseburger topped with pulled pork, pineapple, teriyaki/barbecue sauce and chipotles. Both meats were juicy, the sauces spicy, the in-house-baked bun sturdy and fresh. (You have to specify medium-rare here, too; otherwise, medium-well is the default.)
All the specialty combos sound pretty good, depending on your love of mushrooms (eh) or your devotion to heat (one with ghost chili salsa — hot!), but the one I enjoyed was just that: Enjoyable, filling (including the matchstick fries and a side of onion rings for grins).
So in a face-off, who wins: Ketchup or Grub? Grub makes a slightly superior product for less money (when you add in a drink, Ketchup costs more … but only slightly).
Presentation, staff and energy are a draw depending on your mood. And for that matter, taste is, too: Want the kitchen to decide on your sauce or do you want to control its fate?
The truth is, there’s not a loser in this competition; the joy is being in the race.•
This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition January 31, 2014.