The burger: When FireLake Grill House & Cocktail Bar went through a much-needed cosmetic overhaul earlier this year — a part of the multi-million dollar overhaul of the Radisson Plaza Hotel in downtown Minneapolis, now called the Radisson Blu — the powers that be kicked around various promotional ideas for getting the word out. I vaguely recall a press release crossing my desk, but I definitely remember the 12-year-old restaurant's much more attention-getting strategy: A food truck, which quickly became a popular Marquette Avenue attraction during its brief life.
For that meals-on-wheels promotion, chef Jim Kyndberg — if that name is familiar, it's because he was the creative force behind the late, lamented Bayport Cookery — was looking to ignite some culinary fireworks. One solution was a burger with a taste-of-the-region emphasis. Not just in terms of ingredients, either. "Being the Minnesota-focused restaurant that we are, I felt compelled to do a stuffed burger," he said.
Yes, a Juicy Lucy, of sorts. For the name, he turned to a Gopher State legend — Paul Bunyan — and christened his effort the Blue Ox Burger (more on that in a moment). It sold like gangbusters, and with good reason; it's a phenomenal burger.
Like all memorable burgers, this one piles on the complementary flavor layers, starting with the beef's brawny, ultra-rich bite, which of course comes with a backstory (come on, this is Burger Friday, after all). In a previous job, Kyndberg had collaborated with the premium beef go-to folks at Peterson Limousin Beef to develop a chuck-brisket-short rib grind, inspired by the much-lauded hamburger formula created by Pat La Frieda Meat Purveyors. It left such a favorable impression that Kyndberg filed it away for future reference, remaining on the lookout for a place to re-introduce it. (I think the results are pretty close. Taste-test for yourself, with a visit to Lake & Irving, which imports the La Frieda product for its precedent-setting burger.)
Each prodigiously hefty patty is grilled over hickory and mesquite, and the woods' smoke sneaks into but doesn't overpower the fat-laced meat. And talk about grill skills: At my first indelicate chomp, the thing just ran juices. A second, even messier bite later, and I reached for my knife and fork.
This isn't your basic bare-bones Juicy Lucy, not by a long shot. For starters, there's an under-the-patty layer of bacon-onion marmalade. And yes, it's as eye-rollingly delicious as it sounds, with dashes of maple syrup and vinegar staging a low-key sweet-and-sour tug-of-war.
I love how Kyndberg isn't afraid to go all-in on the Paul Bunyan lore. Literally. That tender, crazy-juicy shredded beef that adorns the top of the patty? It's a ragu of, yes, oxtail. "As in, Babe the Blue Ox," he said with a laugh, referring to the legendary lumberjack's cobalt-tinted bovine buddy. "I couldn't resist."
Heh. As for the cheese, it's the tangy, salty, cave-aged pride of Faribault, Minn., and there's plenty of it. Staying true to the Juicy Lucy spirit, Kyndberg sneaks a tweak into the crumbly cheese. "It doesn't have the right 'goo' factor for a stuffed burger," he said. "So we grind up a good local cheese curd and mix it with the Amablu. That's what gives it that meltiness."
