Of all the restaurants in New York, only a handful of venerable ones have enough magic left to resist the trends. Balthazar and The Odeon are always full of people. Keens is still the best steak in town and there's always a line for Katz's. But perhaps the best example of this is Raoul's, which you can always tell is about to open by the line of people waiting outside for one item: the hamburger.
For those who stopped reading, check the menu: Yes, I know it's not there. That's because chef David Honeysett famously orders enough Pat LaFrieda beef, peppercorns, onions and buns to build 12 perfect burgers a night. These dozen are only available at the bar, and once they're gone, they're gone, so anyone sitting down to check out a menu has already lost their chance to get one.
My first attempt was an immediate failure. I walked in at 7pm and asked manager Eddy if they were still serving the burger. Before I could answer, I heard a regular burst of laughter at my naivety that cut me to the core. I went home, burger-less, and planned a new course of action. I told work I had a late afternoon dentist appointment, postponed a drinks meeting, skipped my sad desk lunch, and got off the subway at 4:30 for the The restaurant opens at 5 pm. There was already a line of people waiting patiently outside. For a restaurant that's been around since 1975, this thing still has a following.
A young couple who had also been playing hooky were first in line. She works in advertising, he in finance; both said their dog was sick. An older couple, Art and Lynn, told me they split their time between Texas and their apartment a few blocks off West Broadway, which they've had for 17 years. There was Marie, a TV comedy actor who starred opposite comedian Billy Connelly on his show in 1992. And then me. Maybe 40 seconds after I planted myself in sixth place, seven more people seemed to teleport behind me. A woman arrived with her husband, who had been a line cook at Raoul's in the 1990s, followed by two girls who had dropped out of a class at NYU and a few others who seemed to know the drill. As the others approached, they did some quick math and lowered their heads as they walked away.
Eddy emerged, dressed in a pressed white shirt and bomber jacket, to get everyone's information. At 5pm we were ushered inside, where 12 white tablecloths were laid along the bar, which is set up so it's hard to tell if it's 5pm or 1am. throne-like stools, while others in line waiting for someone to leave either stood or settled for a table serving the regular (but still great!) menu. Our waiter, named Angus, welcomed us with an announcement that the kitchen wouldn't start until 5.15pm, “so let's start everyone with a drink!”
When we all had drinks, mostly martinis, in hand, Angus returned with a notepad. “Hamburgers,” he told the young couple, who already knew the answer. He was also asking people how they wanted it cooked, but he was already writing “medium rare” on the blog as the question crossed his lips. Twenty minutes later, 12 burgers were placed in front of us. “These are perfection,” said Marie.
The burger is simple. On the side is a small plate of chips and a ramekin of cognac au poivre sauce It's clean and sharp, like a martini. Their brisket mix cake has a soft, caramelized texture. And instead of a square of melted American cheese, there's a St. Andre of triple cream. But what really gives it the edge is the cracked pepper, which is absolutely the defining characteristic. It's like a waiter comes with a pepper mill and you ask for more to the point that it must be a mistake… and then continued until, miraculously, it was wonderful again. If the pepper doesn't wake you up, the pure nuance of a different a kind of hamburger.
So far, everyone was eating in relative silence; consuming a burger and fries at 5:15pm probably means skipping lunch, so combine hunger with the wait and the hype and you enter a state of trance. But as everyone finishes, it's smiles all around. That's when we realize it's still only 6pm on a Wednesday. We've all been facing Angus and talking to each other, but the rest of the restaurant is still waiting for the dinner tip in about two hours. The sun is still shining as we emerge again onto Prince Street, where commuters are starting to head home. I turn to Lynn and Marie, and we slowly agree to meet up at Raoul's later tonight for a martini, mostly to brag to the other customers about how we got one of the 12 burgers.
Lynn confirms that it's amazing as always, and Art lets it be known that a four-pack of burgers is available at Goldbelly to ship anywhere in the US for $114.95. “However, it is not the same,” he says. “You really need to have him here.” And, as Lynn reminds him, there's a waiting list for them, too.
