(Note: Originally posted at teameat.org)
I really, really enjoy eating. Food is awesome.
If there is a sub-awesome section to that statement, it’s that Baltimore is home to a few restaurants that are the absolute best in making a specific meal and I take pride in that.
Take for example, Dizzy Izzies in the hood of Remington (now named The Dizz, in honor of Ace of Cakes, but I hate that name, so fuck ‘em). They make the best hamburger, ever. Period. I have never had a better burger and I don’t expect to. This includes Five Guys, Fuddruckers and every other local corner shop you think is good (I was joking about Fuddruckers). What makes an amazing burger is two things and two things ONLY. The beef and the bun. You can’t have an awesome hamburger by focusing on only one of these things, or in some cases, trying to mask your shitty meal by piling on non-essential items like tomato and mayonnaise. The beef at Dizzy’s is wonderfully seasoned (I love the Old Bay burger) and is always, always, always incredibly juicy. If you don’t have blood and grease dripping down your fingers THEN YOU ARE WASTING YOUR FUCKING MONEY. You’d be better off blowing your cash on $1 lottery tickets.
Sadly, the bun is commonly overlooked and relegated down to a glorified oven mitt; an item you use to hold onto something hot. If your bun is dry and devoid of at least SOME butter, throw it all away. If your bun is thicker than the patty it holds, throw it in the cooks face. If it’s toasted, burn the restaurant down. The cone that goes with ice cream is important. The icing that goes on a cake is more important. The bun that goes on a burger is most important above all. Seriously, this burger is so good you could eat it with only a bun and meat and it would still be amazing. Adding cheese, bacon and other condiments just makes it that much more awesome. Plus, they are one of the two restaurants in town with THE most absolutely incredible selection of fuckingly decadent desserts. That’ll make for another post entirely.
As an extra note, my father, being a former cook and self-proclaimed “food master” rarely, if ever, praises another cooks food. Not even mine. After he finished his burger at Dizzy’s, he got up and walked out of the room. Once he returned I asked him where he went and he said that he walked into the kitchen to tell the cook what a great burger it was. Brilliant.
Second up is Rocket to Venus, a fairly recent addition to Hampden. The dish they are known for, and I’m not making this up, is Brussels sprouts. Seriously? Could you think of a more lame food? “Oh, you’ve really gotta try this new place, their broccoli is to DIE for.” I ignore this for the most part because I think it has to be some stupid joke they’ve been pulling off for way too long. No other explanation. I also ignore it because they make up for the Brussels sprouts by designing an amazing, unbeatable: Cheese steak sub.
Again, the exact same specifications for a hamburger apply to a cheese steak: Perfect juicy beef and a perfect bun. This sandwich is incredible. It’s a nice large portion that leaves you feeling quite satisfied and complete with life. I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure they add small cuts of tomato in with the beef (among other items, I’m sure) that adds a sort of light taste to such a heavy meal. They serve it in a deep plate so that the juices just lay on the bottom, lightly soaking the soft bun. Yet again, the interaction of the meat and bun is critical. What I don’t want is to bite into the sandwich and have the bun break apart because it’s been toasted and large chunks of meat and crumbs fall onto the plate and not into my mouth. You also don’t want a teary bun that you have to yank on with your teeth in order to get a bite. It should be as soft as a potato roll but not too soft that it soaks up all the juice and gets mushy. I haven’t been to Philly in quite a while, but I’m very confident that even an authentic Philly cheese steak won’t top this. Blasphemy? Perhaps. But then again, I don’t give a shit.
YES, THIS IS SERIOUS BUSINESS.
Last on my list is a special treat: Andy Nelson’s Barbeque. Located a bit outside the city in Timonium, it’s close enough to get there easily, but not so close that I eat there every meal, every day of my entire life.
At this point we leave the world of casual food eating. No matter where you go, ordering a hamburger or cheese steak is quick, easy and a safe bet.
By eating at Andy Nelsons you enter a realm where cooking food is an art form. Meat is pampered, meticulously nursed and tended to. Under a watchful eye the food is diligently sculpted from raw meat into a masterpiece of seasoned pork and beef, a delicious slow-cooked beacon of smoked hope for all the world to enjoy.
No lie.
A full rack of St. Louis cut Memphis style spare ribs, a side of potato wedges, BBQ beans, cornbread and sweet tea. For those Christians, Jews and Muslims out there, yall’s concept of Heaven is WAY off. The taste and texture of their ribs is unbelievable and quite seriously a lifetime of learning goes into cooking this. Each rib is served to you almost falling clean off the bone. There is no fat to be chewed, no gristle to spit out, no small tendons to get caught between your teeth. It’s nothing but a rectangle of pure dry rubbed meat. Never before have I experienced this, not of my own cooking nor by anyone else. Not anywhere that I’ve stopped while in the deep south and definitely nowhere in the Baltimore area. I can’t speak highly enough about this place. Perhaps I’ve said enough already.
Again, another place I brought my dad where he commented that his brisket meal was the best yet. “And I’ve had a lot of good brisket.”
When I am lying on my death bed, saying goodbye to friends and family I want each of these meals, from these restaurants, brought to me. I will eat them by myself, in peace, then pass away quietly into the evening, a smile on my face and my stomach brimming with delicious cuts of meat.
I didn’t post pictures of these meals for two reasons:
#1.) I didn’t have any.
#2.) Pictures will not do any justice. You will look at the photo, comment to yourself how it looks like every other burger/cheese steak/rib and move on with your life, unchanged, same as before.
Unless you have that new computer that allows you to taste photographs, what’s the point.
Enjoy.
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