Ray's Hell Burger

Location: 1713 Wilson Bvd, Arlington, VA

I have eaten yet another incredible burger, this time at Ray's Hell Burger, located in Arlington, just across the historic Potomac River. It was along this river that many settlements were founded by the British when America was the 'New World' waiting to be explored. Or exploited, depending on which way you look at it. Little evidence of history here now though - just the drone-numbing hum-drum of office workers, ties and briefcases and the same shops that you find decimating any developed city in the world. Very high on efficiency, but exceedingly low on charm. Thank God the workers have some relief at lunch time. Rather than going for the "low-carb, low-fat, low-taste" option, when I visited Ray's there was a pleasingly long queue of customers clutching minutes from meetings, spreadsheets, statistics and a Ray's burger menu printed on a single side of A4. Guess which was getting more attention. That was charming, as was the six year old boy to my left who was trying to get his chops around a burger that, I kid you not, was bigger than his head. I christened the contest "Child vs Burger", Round One: Pickles. He provided me with much entertainment.

Then my burger arrived and I became decidedly un-smug. It was absolutely ridiculous. It was immense, and the contest took a nasty turn in which "Child vs Burger" became "Edward vs the Behemoth", a challenge in which I faced odds as insurmountable as a man facing a Himalayan trek equipped with only a pair of flip-flops and a ham sandwich. The six year old was now pointing and giggling, as was his mother - creasing over with laughter whilst trying to stop her cognac sauteed mushrooms from disappearing down her cleavage. Then as I tried to pick up the burger Sean, my eating companion, did that thing where you laugh and drink at the same time, resulting in liquid hurtling out of your nostrils. I dropped the meat and the size of it caused the tables to wobble, the pictures to rattle on the walls and the lights to flicker in an alarming 'end of the world' fashion.

And to think that I'd ordered the seemingly harmless "Soul Burger Number One" which is comprised of ten ounce beef pattie, smoked bacon, Swiss cheese, cognac sauteed mushrooms (not the ones down the cleavage) and grilled red onions, all encased in a toasted brioche bun. I started to think that perhaps I'd asked for something else entirely (this seems to happen frequently in America - divided by a common language), but all the requisite parts suggested it was indeed a "Soul Burger". It could have been worse, I thought as I slipped on the first step of the Himalayas in my flip-flops - I could have ordered the "Burger of Seville" that included seared Foie Gras, cognac sauteed mushrooms, Bordelaise sauce and truffle oil.

Thankfully, the first bite cured all. I'm not sure how they do it, but burgers in America are almost universally juicy and flavoursome. This was seasoned perfectly to bring out the taste of the beef, and amazingly, I just kept on eating. Somehow, and this is all the more bizarre considering that there was a Brioche bun involved, the whole thing was actually light, in that, I could have eaten another one. Then, and this is something I've never experienced before, I got burger drunk - Sean and I simply ate and ate without saying a word to one another. I actually felt giddy, and memories of drinking cheap cider in the park circa 1995 came flooding back to me. Six year old boy had his chin on his chest for the duration to which I triumphantly grinned at him. So as you can gather, Ray's is certainly worth visiting, if only to try and get burger drunk as I managed to. There are a myriad of options available, from plain old cheese and ketchup to roasted bone marrow with persillade. But make sure you take a friend. You may need him to carry you home. Staggering. Shouting "I luuuuurve you...", like a good friday night at the local.

Obama and the Cheese Fries

Location: 1213 U Street NW, Washington, DC

There were a few reasons why I wanted to visit Ben's Chili Bowl, but when I saw that the president-elect had been there, I had to go along. If only I'd gone on the day I intended to, I could have clearly helped Mr. Obama with his inaugural speech. I'm sure he would have rushed home, sacked his speech writer and immediately offered me a job. Alas, as is the way of the world, I simply joined the lunchtime rush in ordering a "half smoke with cheese fries" cursing my lack of foresight - America's first black president was obviously going to pay a visit to a Washington DC institution that for decades has served the city's large black population with comfort food. I should have been camping outside, waiting for special branch to arrive and check me out. Ho hum.

Since my visit to Voodoo Doughnut in Portland, OR, I've been thinking hard about "cult food places". In a west Wales context we're talking the Central Cafe in Newcastle Emlyn, or in an Edinburgh context we could be talking about La Favorita - those places that are a microcosm of the community that they serve. They are evidence that a food 'experience' is as much about context as the food itself. When I'm in Sicily, I want the freshest seafood cooked simply with garlic, parsley, lemon and olive oil. When I'm in Germany I want a bratwurst.

And when I'm at Ben's, I want soul food.

Opened in 1958, and having served the same mix of greasy fries, bowls of smoking chili and hot dogs ever since, what really excites me about Ben's is that you get a piece of the past when you visit. Much of the furniture is still from the 1950's, and as Washington was officially a segregated city when Ben's first opened it's doors, you're also getting a feel (and nothing more than) of how this particular community on the U-street corridor (affectionately known as 'Black Broadway') maintained their essence. It survived violent riots following the assassination of Martin Luther King and the economic depression of the 1980's, when the area was a hot-bed of drug use and completely off limit to the middle, chattering, classes who schmooze the place nowadays. But the locals still came. They were dining on memories, transported to their youth and the core of who they are.

I loved the fact that as I plopped my bottom on a rickety, swivel-crazy, plastic leather stool, a large, African-American lady bounced up looked me straight in the eye and said "Hey baby, what you want?". (Admittedly I was a little startled and only just managed to say 'a half smoke please' without sounding too ridiculous.) Just imagine how the magic would have been lost if she had said "What could I get you, my fine looking fellow?".

The food itself wasn't brilliant: dirty, greasy and altogether bad for you. But at the same time utterly wonderful and that is the question that needs to be answered. How can something so average, inspire so many? After all, Ben's has a loyal following of celebrities including Bill Cosby (he never has to pay), Denzel Washington and Bono. My sense is that it's a meeting place in the same way that the church once was, or the post office is for the elderly - a place where the true locals can catch up on the news. The food just happens: it's an ice breaker for the secret gossiping of teenage girls, the frustrations of middle-aged women and the resigned shrugs of elderly men. There will, no doubt, be massive amounts of hope as well. America has unearthed something special, and there will be no-where sweeter than Ben's come its inauguration.

Kaz Sushi Bistro

Location: 1915 I Street NW, Washington, DC

Ahhh, Sushi. If you want to look at exquisite knife skills, consummate calm, poise and all around serenity, then you go to a Sushi bar. I was a late starter to eating Sushi. Like so many people I thought it simply referred to raw fish and couldn't fathom why there were so many folk willing to pay through the nose for something that required (so I thought) little culinary skill at all. It was later that I learned that the term 'Sushi' actually refers to the type of rice used, hence the different styles of roll you get. The speed and accuracy with which they create these rolls is breathtaking. From my limited knowledge, 'Sashimi' is raw fish. 'Maki' are the little rolls, 'Nigiri' are the blocks of rice generally topped with raw fish and 'Temaki' are the cone-like shaped rolls. After that, I'm still at a bit of a loss. It takes me absolutely ages to order in a Sushi bar, which is why places with those little train-tracks full of food are such a good idea - not only can you gawp at the technique, but you can eat what you want, and no more. I really should go to Japan one day and learn more.

The other day I ate at Kaz Sushi Bistro in Washington, DC and it started with the same feeling I always have when going into a Sushi place: a sense that I am about to be underwhelmed. It's really not fair of me. I never feel that way if I'm about to eat tapas - but I assume my lack of knowledge is such that I have no idea if I'll feel fed or not. Kaz's has won numerous local awards recently for the innovation of its food. You can see this in the menu. The classic Nigiri, Sashimi and Rolls are all there, but so too are Kaz's signature sushi, including tuna with fore gras-miso, sake-poached scallop with lemon and coriander or salmon with mango puree. This was looking very much like "fusion-food", something else I'm a little sceptical of and I therefore opted for the more normal sounding tempura clams with green tea salt and lime, some seared octopus heads with lime, and a range of maki plus a seaweed salad.

Very tasty indeed: undoubtedly fresh ingredients, cooked well. The clams were beautifully sweet and the tempura feather light. I wasn't entirely sure what the 'green-tea salt' contributed: I could only taste salt and no green tea. But very tasty none the less. As for the octopus, my partner and I almost lost it when an eye-ball popped out at one point, but beyond the squeamishness, the texture was amazing: silky smooth without a hint of that awful rubbery feeling you get when eating badly cooked Calamari. I could be wrong, but I was sure I detected a taste of Sake: I wonder if the little tentacles had been flambéed?

Five Guys = Burger Heaven

When one tries to define American cuisine, it's really impossible to do so. The Earth's most famous melting pot takes it's culinary influences from literally all over the world, and from almost every culture. Coupled with this being a relatively young country, a tangible American type of food really hasn't developed. If you had to choose one thing that America is famous for, it's probably going to be the burger, but even that has it's origins elsewhere with nineteenth century German immigrants bringing the "hamburger" along for their trip via the major port of, you guessed it, Hamburg. Since then, there have been numerous claims to who actually served the first hamburger, but for me the idea of the huddled masses clutching their cured beef between two slices of bread whilst braving the open waves of the Atlantic Ocean, destined for the 'new world' and who-knows-what is far, far more romantic. Although I'm sure they didn't think that at the time.

So from humble beginnings the hamburger - now known generically as the burger - has spread like wildfire all over the planet and is enjoyed daily by millions. As a consequence it seems to me that it has unwittingly developed a bad name. It's become a symbol for the globalized world, fast food and obesity. But the composite parts of a burger are actually perfectly healthy. Bread, fine. Salad, good. Ground beef, fine, and especially once it's cooked and the fat has been rendered out. Even Marco Pierre-White eats at McDonalds. So I think it's time to rise in defence of the burger, and stop assuming that it's a cardiac disaster. Now I'm not advocating that you eat a burger every day, as that ridiculous film 'Super Size Me' attests that people do. But as part of a balanced diet, then why not?

I occasionally eat at McDonalds. But by far the best burger I have eaten from a fast food joint was last night. Five Guys is a DC based burger franchise that over the last ten years has won numerous awards for the quality of what it serves, and you can see why. Good prices, delicious, never frozen hand made burgers, as many condiments as you want for free, and potato chips (from Idaho) that are cut daily and fried in peanut oil, giving them the most wonderful nutty brown colour and taste and then presented in these little cups. There was something honest about the food, and the people working there that instantly makes you relax. You just KNOW you're going to be fed well and as if to complete the picture, as I pulled apart my foil wrapped burger, the classic tones of Foreigner's "waiting for a girl like you" rang around the white-tiled walls. Perfection.

My Burger Recipe
Makes 2

Ingredients:
500g Minced Rump Steak, about 15% fat - add more if required.
2 Shallots, finely diced
A good handful of Thyme leaves
A good handful of Marjoram leaves
1 clove Garlic, crushed
A small squeeze of roasted Tomato puree
1 Egg, beaten
Maldon Sea Salt and Cracked Black Pepper

Method:
1. Pretty simple really. Place all the ingredients into a bowl and mix well. Get your hands in there. Then cover and chill in a fridge for about an hour. This is very important, it'll help the patties keep their shape.
2. Form into two patties. Brush them with olive oil, then fry on a lightly oiled non-stick pan for 4 minutes, either side. This should give you a medium finish.
3. Serve with whatever you like, but personally I eat mine with red onion marmalade and a soft blue cheese such as Dolcelatte.