Burger And A Beer? No Problem!

THE QUID PRO QUO

Although she has turned into a bona fide college hoops fan, I kind of felt sorry for Momma Cuandito last weekend. What caused this sympathy was my television viewing plan covering Friday night through Monday, as follows:

Friday: NCAA women's Final Four semi-finals from Tampa, including # 1 seed Notre Dame (the "Irish Lassies," as I like to call them) versus the # 2 seed UConn Huskies. This heated rivalry has been labeled by many sports journalists as the best in the women's game over the last decade. The ND-UConn tilt was slated to follow the other semi-final, # 1 seed Baylor vs. # 2 seed Oregon.  Naturally I felt an obligation to watch the Lady Bears-Ducks semi in case Irish head coach Muffet McGraw called me later for a scouting report on the winner.  I've always been a fan of Muffet ever since she responded with a hand-written note to a congratulatory letter I sent her following Notre Dame's 2001 National Championship.  [An aside:  Many observers have opined that Muffet and UConn head coach Geno Auriemma don't appear to like each other.  At the Women's Final Four Media Day, they were asked about their relationship, and whether they might be friends if not for their teams' rivalry.  Muffet answered, "I would respect him, but I wouldn't want to be married to him."  Geno replied, "I wouldn't want to be married to me either."]

Saturday: Considered by hoops fanatics to be the greatest sports day of the year, the two NCAA men's Final Four semi-finals, Auburn-Virginia and Michigan State-Texas Tech.  The winners get to play for the National Championship.  Having the Final Four in Minneapolis was exciting for our metro area, but the truth is I would watch every second of both games regardless of the venue location.  By comparison, my annual agenda for watching the NBA playoffs is this:  Wait for the final series, and if there is a Game 7 I will watch the last two minutes.

Sunday and Monday: The NCAA women's national championship finals and the men's, respectively, each preceded by an hour long pre-game show.

All together, that's about sixteen or seventeen hours of boob tube watching over a four evening span.  To compensate Momma Cuan for the hogging of our TV, I had a brilliant (BRILLIANT!) idea. "Let's go out for lunch Saturday," I suggested.  Momma Cuan was all in.

THE GAME PLAN

Since we each have different favorites when it comes to pizza and burgers, we usually take turns picking the establishment if one of those foods is what we jointly have in mind.  For example, if we're going for pizza, The Leaning Tower (24th & Lyndale) is my fave, whereas Momma Cuan prefers Black Sheep (26th & Nicollet).  Both are very acceptable to each of us, so it makes little difference whose turn it is to pick.  The same can not be said for hamburgers.  Everyone who knows me well is aware of my periodic craving for the Amsterdam burger at Park Tavern, aka the "PT."  For years I have labeled it the best burger in the Twin Cities.  MC absolutely loves Lake & Irving's entire menu, but especially their burger.  Unlike the pizza situation, I honestly don't relish L & I's burger.  I believe I'm a minority of one in my family.  (For what it's worth, my second place burger is the Mount Mushmore at JL Beers in Nordeast (First Ave & University).  JLB's burgers cost under $7, and as an extra added attraction they boast a fantastic tap beer selection.)

Our late Saturday morning conversation regarding dining destination went something like this.  You might notice hints of Minnesota-speak therein.

Me:  Where would you like to go for lunch?  What do you have a taste for?

MC:  I could really go for a great hamburger; haven't had one in awhile.

Me:  Okay, where do you want to go? (At this point I was sure she was going to say "Lake & Irving," but she surprised me.)

MC:  Oh, I don't care, you pick.  (At this point, I'm sure Mary thought I was going to choose the PT.)

Me, still feeling a little guilty about all the college hoops I'd been watching and still planned to watch that weekend:  How 'bout if I name five places, and you can pick from that list?

MC:  Okay.

Me:  Harriet's Inn, Merlin's Rest, The Lowbrow, Pat's Tap and Red Wagon (actually a pizza joint).  (Notice I left out L & I, but neither did I include the PT or JLB.)

MC: I can't decide.

Me: Well, what if I narrow it down to just two of those five?

MC:  Okay.

Me:  The Lowbrow or Merlin's?

MC: Where is The Lowbrow again?  Oh, yeah, 43rd and Nicollet.  Let's go there.

THE ADVENTURE

We left the Quentin Estates at 1:00, heading for south Minneapolis.  Although we had intentionally omitted downtown lunch spots from our list of of possibilities due to the congestion expected with the Final Four, we still hit a bunch of traffic snags along Lake Street.  As we slowly passed by The Lake Formerly Known As Calhoun, I half-expected Momma C to say, "I've changed my mind.  Let's do Lake & Irving."  You know what they say about a woman's prerogative.  But, that did not happen; we arrived at The Lowbrow around 1:30.

Our server was a nice young man whose name I didn't catch, but let's call him Oliver.  Oliver informed us that, on Saturdays, The Lowbrow served only brunch until 2:00.   "Lunch is not available until 2:00," he said almost apologetically.  He left to attend to another table, but promised he'd return quickly.  Mary and I had a meeting of the minds simply by making eye contact with each other.  We had already eaten breakfast that morning.  We had just spent a half-hour in the car getting pumped for hamburgers.  We were not in the mood for brunch, but hey, no problem.  We will simply order Bloody Marys, nurse those drinks for a half hour, then grub down on burgers.  Oliver soon returned and Mary told him our plan.

"Great," the eager Oliver exclaimed.  "But just so you know, we are unable to serve real Bloody Marys here, due to a neighborhood legal restriction.  I can offer you a Bloody Beer [made with Hamms which, as I recall, is barely drinkable suds from the old days] or a Sake Bloody."

Another silent meeting of the minds.  Both of those alternatives sounded disgusting, or as our granddaughter Rosie would say, "exgusting."  "I'll be right back," claimed the over-extended Oliver.

Mary and I figured by the time we drove to another restaurant or bar, it would be almost 2:00, so we came up with yet another idea.  Might as well stay at The Lowbrow, kill the 30 minute wait with a couple of beers, then order burgers at 2:00.  When Oliver returned as promised, we told him our new plan.

"Great," Oliver cried joyfully.  Then there was a pregnant pause.  "But just so you know..."  As soon as he uttered those five words we knew what followed would not be good.  "... we can't start cooking our lunch items right at 2:00 because it takes the kitchen about twenty-five minutes to clean the grill and convert their operation from brunch to lunch."

Sigh.  As we exited The Lowbrow we concluded the travel gods must have taken today off.

***

A short attempt for lunch at Revival proved equally fruitless and nearly fatal.  That small restaurant, which rightfully has a reputation as the premier place in Minneapolis for fried chicken, was not on our radar before we'd set out for The Lowbrow, but the two places are right across Nicollet Avenue from each other.  We had loved our two previous Revival visits, so using the Bird In The Hand Theory, we decided to give it a shot.

Two problems, getting there and getting seated.  Crossing Nicollet at 43rd Street is literally tempting fate.  The vehicles come whizzing by from both directions without regard to pedestrians.  After our second aborted attempt Mary reminded me that a few months ago a woman was killed right there trying to do what we were struggling to do now, i.e., crossing Nicollet to get to Revival.  Our third time was the charm, only to find out that people were lined up inside for what appeared to be at least a forty-five minute wait.  Neither one of us was in the waiting mode, especially following our disappointments at Lowbrow.  Crossing Nicollet a second time to get back to our car proved more challenging than the first, as a city bus decided to park along the curb on the south side of 43rd, obstructing our view of oncoming traffic.  We had to go out almost to the center line to scope out a break.

***

When we reached our car parked two blocks away, it was time to reconsider our options.  By now we were not only frustrated, but hungry as well.  We weren't that far from Matt's Bar (35th & Cedar), but decided that was too much of a tourist attraction for the out-of-towners here for the Final Four.  Friday night's local news telecast confirmed that.  Pat's Tap (35th & Nicollet) was even closer, but when their outdoor patio is closed at this time of year, the inside space gets filled up quickly.  Once again, I wondered if Momma Cuan was going to bring up Lake & Irving, but I was not about to propose the idea.  "Well, Merlin's Rest is still an option," I pointed out to her, "and a Belhaven would taste pretty good right now."  We drove off, destination 36th Avenue & East Lake.

***

Merlin's Rest is a Longfellow neighborhood bar which we discovered several years ago.  It is the only tavern in Minneapolis which serves Belhaven on tap, so even though it requires a grueling drive up and down Lake Street, we need a Belhaven fix every so often.  Belhaven is to Scottish ale what Guinness is to stout.  It is even poured the same way, meaning the bartender lets the first stage settle in the glass before topping it off with a perfect head.  At Merlin's, the food is almost an afterthought.

This was turning out to be a day in which plan flexibility was not only well-advised but even mandatory.  We still tinkered with other dining ideas as we zig zagged across the residential streets of south Minny, bound for Merlin's.  First Mary proposed heading to a bar in the Nokomis neighborhood where we had enjoyed good burgers last year.  The problem was neither of us could recall the name of the place, although I knew it used to be the Sunrise Inn.  I was foggy on the location, but vaguely remembered walking to the Sunrise over ten years ago from the Blue Line's 46th Street station.  We headed for 46th, but before I could get there I found myself in a left turn only lane when I needed to go straight.  Unable to change lanes, we found ourselves going southwest on Hiawatha.  When we couldn't get a cell phone signal to figure out directions, we scrapped those short-lived plans for the Nokomis place.  (For the record, the bar we were momentarily trying to get to is called the Bull's Horn on 46th Street and 34th Avenue.  We'll have to save that idea for another time.)

When we passed Roosevelt High School we contemplated checking out Northbound, a smoke house so-named because it is spitting distance away from the Blue Line's 38th Street station.  Smokehouse is one of those places where the aroma from the kitchen grabs you as soon as you walk inside.  It's also another place which, like Merlin's, I associate with a particular beer, in this case their Smokehouse Porter.  Yum!  Writing about it makes me want to go there soon.

By the time we arrived at Merlin's we truly needed a rest.  It had been almost an hour and a half since we'd left the Quentin Estates.  Maybe we shouldn't have been so adventurous in our quest for burgers and beers.  The restaurant was not busy at mid-day and we easily found two stools at the rail.  The bar was being tended by Allie, who sports a tattooed outline of the state of Minnesota above her left breast.  I always think it would have been more appropriate for her to have chosen Scotland's Highlands, this being a Scottish pub, but who am I to judge?  She has served us a number of times before and, to her credit, pours an excellent pint.  

After starting out with delicious Belhavens, we at last ordered our long sought burgers, The Burger (aka plain burger with cheese) for Momma C and an Irish Burger for me.  I would have ordered a Scottish burger, but none appeared on the menu.  The Irish Burger's "secret ingredient" is Connemara bacon jam.  Fifteen minutes later, as she presented our meals, Allie raved about how much she loved her employer's burgers.  She told us that she refused to eat a hamburger anywhere other than Merlin's and one other Minneapolis restaurant which had the same meat supplier.  Mary obliged Allie by asking which other restaurant.  Allie replied, "Lake & Irving.  Are you familiar with it?"