Pulp Fiction - the Burger Royale
A restaurant has opened up in a very strange section of Los Angeles, on 2619 Wilshire Blvd. between Downtown and the Miracle Mile. You'll probably think you're in the wrong place. Even the sign is awkwardly hanging over the awning and doesn't seem to fit. But a few steps indoors and you're suddenly in another world. Through the club which starts hopping a bit later, past the outdoor courtyard with a tiered fountain and to the left of the unisex bathroom home to a $6000 dollar Japanese toilet, you emerge into an old ballroom turned restaurant. The ceilings are tall and the pillars covered in white tile. Chairs are white and suede, but everything else is a rich chocolate. Here comes the good part...
Cleverly fitting the restaurant's name chef Eric Ernst set out to make a burger to match the glamour of the venue. His product, a 10oz prime angus patty with shortribs and black truffle cheese. It is a mouthful, best ordered as rare as possible and liberally drenched with Ernst's homemade aioli sauce. You can wash it down with a hoegaarden which is on tap, or else pair it up with a robust Argentinian Malbec.
For dessert, the chocolate platter is very refined, with chocolate gelato over fried bananas, chocolate espresso mousse, chocolate fondant (lava cake), and mayan hot chocolate. Or if you're feeling more playful they also have a rootbeer float, or cotton candy which comes out looking like Marge's hair from the Simpsons. It's a pretty bizarre combination of ballpark foods and haute cuisine. But honestly, with a dripping 3/4 pound sandwich rising towards your mouth, who cares.
(until you've experienced this type of gastronomical pleasure you should avoid driving or operating machinery)
