During my first Shake Shake experience, I didn't get to eat. I stood in line for 45 minutes to get burgers and shakes for my boss and another colleague, in town from Boston. A grey sky threatened and I snapped a few picture texts to assure my boss that I hadn't been kidnapped by the cabbie, the burgers really do draw an impressive line. After placing the order, I sat in the park while it began to drizzle and waited...another 25 minutes.
After my buzzer went off, I attempted to be patient as a woman demanded that her burger be remade (she spilled her shake on it). The rain began to fall a little harder. Then it pounded. I clutched the 70 minute burgers tightly, and ran towards the street of no available cabs.
I sloshed back into the office nearly two hours later and offered an apologetic smile as I handed over the bag. During the entire process, I kept thinking about purchasing deli burgers and passing them off, or The Devil Wears Prada...
---
This past weekend, I got my chance to indulge. After a text notification of Vadim's tweet stating that he was at Shake Shack in Flatiron, I immediately called him. He was kind enough to get back in line and bring me home a luke-warm burger and crinkle-cut fries.
Let me take you down this path of pleasures:
Fries: no ketchup needed (this is huge, my appreciation for ketchup is borderline alarming). The fries nearly melt in your mouth. A buttery texture of smooth savory potatoes with crispy outer layer.
The burger: charmingly, unevenly, formed by hand. Impressively moist. Crispy lettuce, ripe tomato, gooey American cheese and a tangy secret sauce. The bun is soft and cheap, but works well with the melty, sloppy mess.
No comments:
Post a Comment