FratBurger Is In The Pink

FratBurger — Good Eats. Cold Beer.
Address: 247-1 King Street N, Waterloo  N2J 4V2 (at University Avenue)
Open: Daily
Cost: Loaded burgers, poutine, and PBR’s for two is about $35
Contact: 519-954-3728 /www.facebook.com/FratBurger

Amuse-bouche: A straight-up simple burger joint and retro-style bar and grill. The trappings are the “PBR” signs, sports on televisions, and a gallimaufry of memorabilia. At the heart–and a pink heart it is–are some very good, no-nonsense burgers. And that’s they way burgers should be.

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Four words crystallize Fratburger: good eats, cold beer. Those are the restaurateurs’ bon mots, albeit brief and economical, but I tend to agree with them.

It has been a long time since I’ve spent so much time ruminating about a review and those few words, centering as they do on something like the humble hamburger. FratBurger has been open several months now and has settled nicely into a niche that is badly needed it seems.

The crew here has, perhaps, endeavoured to take back the dark and murky burger-night from the idiocy of chic, Daniel Boulud, Michelin-starred chefs elsewhere who spent too much time tarting up a classic, eminently noshable comfort-food beyond the limits of  culinary (or socio-economic) sense by adding a ridiculous Wall Street / Bay Street notion that ground chuck deserved a meretricious application of foie gras, truffles, and Kobe. Bollocks to that $50, I say. And I say it while pointing out that we have $20 burgers in this Region. I’m not saying they ain’t good: I’m just sayin’.

FratBurger boys and their flat-top.

The burger reigns through its simplicity, its meatiness, its ability to trickle juices down your chin and slowly insinuate itself into the very basal ganglia of your food memory. How has FratBurger done this? Well, really by virtue of some smart business-blokes who know what to market and how to market it.

One of the FratBurger boys has been in the local restaurant business for some time (and is currently building a new–and eagerly awaited–diner in Kitchener); one is a current owner of a popular no-nonsense food and fuel bar and grill-lounge with a similar retro and movie and music feel; and one is the pioneer of Canada’s craft beer industry.

One of FratBurger principals had, emphatically, nothing to do with PBR! There are lots of other much better beers on the blackboard list.

This trio knows from restaurant smarts. They have thought about a concept for FratBurger, defined it, modified it, marketed it, and are endeavouring to stick by it. It is only a matter of time, and the vagaries of a fickle industry, that will determine how well they do. But given the target audience and location virtually next door to Wilfrid Laurier University, they should make a pretty good run of it. They can serve you take-away until 3 a.m., so that will certainly help with those scholars and nagging their their nagging munchies after a night of carousing.

FratBurger features a nice bar area tucked away in the back corner. The service is, I would estimate, that friendly, casual variety you can expect at good roadhouses and sports bars.

A simple, functional interior.

The menu is small and simple and has only a few items from burgers and fries to fresh-made milkshakes. Then you add “Squeezers,” “Toppers,” “Cheeze,” and “Extras,” and that is about it. For those not of the slaughtered, ground-up cow ilk, there are home-made portobello burgers with aioli and Gruyere as well as a quinoa (ancient grain) veggie burgs, both with thin buns. I’ve tried them both, and they do the trick quite nicely. Order just a burger and it costs you $5. From there, you can add Squeezers and Toppers, et al. (some of the extra stuff will run you a buck an item).

Aside from the dedication to their principle, to the concept and design, I also appreciate the restaurant’s reasonable approach to the local-food philosophy. Rather than being foist on their own petard of decreeing only local ingredients, FratBurger uses local russets–a king among spuds–for their fries. That makes sense. They use local veg. Equally sensible.

They do not use local cheese curds. Why? Because they have an ideal, ur-Poutine perhaps in their mind’s eye and how they want to serve it; so they’ve gone to Bromont in La Belle Province for their cheese curds. That attempt makes it real. I’m not sure if poutine plays really big in the Eastern Townships, but it is a classic Quebecois dish.

Poutine: it must be a killer, but it's so damn good.

At $4 for a large basket (basket and paper are part of the tableware), the poutine is good, thanks to very good fries, but at times salty. It’s about balance and accumulation: the gravy has salt, the cheese curds (I love squidgy cheese curds) have to be salty by their very existence as a cheese product, so the fry cook has to watch his or her salt distribution when those golden russets come up out of the oil to be salted.

That is a small flaw, however. What really counts most are the burgers. FratBurger has a funky meat grinder tucked inside a cooler beside their kitchen prep area that they use two or three times a day in which they grind locally sourced beef–three different cuts, in fact–for the burgers.

They won’t disclose the proprietary mix, but baseball-shaped hamburger sits neatly and happily in the fridge ready to meet the hot flat-top and get seared to heaven.

Sear is the key culinary point here. You don’t get it with a grill; you only get it with a good, hot slab of metal. It creates two important effects: a nice, slightly crisp, brownish-black Maillard reaction on the outside and a soft, meaty, juicy texture on the inside. In fact, you can ask for the burger to be cooked only to pink inside, which just means more deliciousness.

See the sear?

I’ve tried FratBurgers in several combinations and permutations: loaded with extras like blue cheese, peameal, guacamole, and mushrooms; I’ve had one with just cheese from among a half-dozen selections (though I hopeful they will figure out a way to create a burger joint “cheese skirt”); I’ve gobbled one with a fried egg; but the most enjoyable way is absolutely plain. Yes, then you can taste the meat flavour, the simple peppery seasoning, and enjoy the textures–and let the pink juice run down your ganglion.

It is with the bun, however, that I had most difficulty and hence the reason for my extended deliberation, for I’ve been eating FratBurgers since the late summer. The question for me assumed a Swiftian proportion like that of the Lilliputians and Blefuscudians: the former believed that you should crack open an egg from the small end; the latter felt it should be breached from the big end.

The burger’s bun, ergo, is similarly pure ideology as far as I am concerned: there is a school of thought that advocates for a good sturdy burger bun with a heavier crumb and a thicker crust; that stance is countered by a faction who are pro white-bread, light-bodied bun which sops up juices.

I have firmly been of the sturdy segment; however, in seeing FratBurger’s overall philosophy, their retro-resto theme, and their particular ideology, it makes perfect sense to go Weston’s mangiacake bun. I see how it works. And I enjoy that.

In fact, I enjoy most FratBurger’s no nonsense burger-joint approach. It’s a simple formula for a simple nosh executed with thought and by following simple principles. The hamburger, you see, is nothing to be trifled with–at the same time that it needs not be fussed over unnecessarily. You’re in the pink when the speaks for itself.

I tried a pulled pork FratBurger: good.