The burger: It's hardly rocket science to believe that if you want a great veggie burger, you go to a great vegetarian (or vegetarian-friendly, anyway) restaurant. Someone recently asked where they could go and not end up with a thawed Morningstar Farms patty — that a restaurant would actually have the temerity to serve such a dreary supermarket downer is a mind-boggler, but that's another story — and of course my first thought was the Birchwood Cafe.
I was not disappointed. The restaurant, 20 years young, has had a black bean-based burger on the menu since opening day, and although I'm a frequent diner (don't get me started on my love for the savory waffles, or the vegetable handpies), I've never gone down that particular path.
Not that I feared the burger equivalent a tragic no-food-with-a-face substitute. That has never been the Birchwood's style. And it's not that I didn't know that the restaurant wouldn't approach the veggie burger with the same intent that it displays with the rest of its frequently but not exclusively vegetarian menu.
I was not surprised to learn that chef Marshall Paulsen has, during his eight-year tenure, put the black bean burger through probably two dozen refinements. It's easy to see why the one I scarfed down earlier this week is a pinnacle experience.
First, the thick patty nails the moisture-texture conundrum that trips up so many dry and pallid veggie burgers. Paulsen's secret lies is in the way the beans are prepared. Some are simmered for six hours in highly salted water until they're tender but not mushy, while others are cooked longer, then pureed and seasoned with garlic-infused oil.
Binders include white quinoa, the flesh of dry-roasted russet potatoes, potato starch and locally raised cornmeal, and the mix is seasoned with plenty of cumin, coriander, salt and black pepper. When the B'wood's kitchen was the size of an Eden Prairie McMansion's walk-in closet, the black bean burgers were baked. But thanks to a recent renovation and expansion, Paulsen finally has a kitchen that matches his skills and ambitions, and one benefit is embodied in the way he's now able to prepare his black bean burger. No more baked burgers, thank you very much. That bean-quinoa-potato mixture gets formed into a ball, and as each ball is seared in a hot cast-iron skillet, it gets a schmush, Smashburger-style, and cooked until the outside of the patty develops a pretty decent burger-like char, and the interior remains solid and relatively moist.
For those who think that "veggie burger" is synonymous with "boring," prepare to have your expectations shattered, Birchwood-style. First of all, there's an astonishing level of detail that goes into the (all-organic, naturally) bun, which is baked on the premises each morning. Paulsen calls it a "birdseed" bun, because it's sprinkled with ingredients typically associated with birdseed: flax, millet sunflowers. \
But the bread itself is a far cry from the vacuous, one-note white-bread burger buns that seem to norm, its wheat flour base fortified with barley and molasses. It's no wonder that Paulsen is justifiably proud of it (and if you're a fan of the B'wood's turkey salad sandwich — and if you're not, you should be — it's served on a loaf version of "birdseed" bun). And if you didn't think there was room for improvement, Paulsen finds it, buttering the inside surfaces of each bun giving them a light toast on the kitchen's flap top grill.
