Corner Bistro

To all you Corner Bistro fans out there, I'm afraid I'm about to break some hearts.

I like J.G. Melon's burgers better than Corner Bistro burgers.

There. I said it.

Can we still be friends? Or is it like Mets verses Yankees fans, Virginia verses Tech fans, or Iowa verses State fans? They act civil on the surface, but when it comes down to it, there's a deep-seated, passionate rivalry that can't be forgotten with a smile or a handshake.

Hawkeye and I ventured to Corner Bistro because colleagues and friends recommended it. Since I started this blog, they've all been chiming in their opinions on Manhattan's best burger.

"Burger Joint!"

"No way, it's P.J. Clarke's."

"You can't beat Corner Bistro, M!"

"If you haven't been to Corner Bistro, you gotta go!"

"Nah, I prefer J.G. Melon's."

"Totally Corner Bistro. It's always packed."

I guess since so many people said Corner Bistro, I figured I would love it too. It was like the movie that everyone builds up and up and up, and then when you're not wallowing in emotion or overcome with laughter, you're disappointed. I was disappointed in the Corner Bistro burger.

Hawkeye and I walked in after a long day of playing tourists. I knew it would be busy, but we'd tough it out. There's no fun in eating a burger when you don't have to work for it. Despite it being on the corner and having large windows, Corner Bistro is a dark dive. Perhaps this is so you don't have to see the pile of grease on your paper plate once you've gnawed away at your burger.

There were several people hanging out at the long mahogany bar ordering pints of McSorley's, though not Corner Bistro's main attraction. The line to eat resembled a line to get into the women's bathroom at a crowded airport.

I asked the young frat brat in front of me, "Is this the line for dinner?"

"Eeeyupp," He responded. "It moves puh-retty quick, you'll see."

"Thanks."

Hawkeye and I looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and waited. It was only a few minutes before one after another, people in line started heading to their tables. The server came to us, grunted something and walked away. I guess we were supposed to follow.

Don't even bother with a menu at CB. And expect your server to take your order as soon as you sit down. I felt like I was in an old ship's cabin and our server was the grumpy steward. He came and threw stuff on our table left and right. First it was the menus, then it was the waters, then it was the beers, a second round of beers, then it was our burgers. I knew I wasn't eating at the Ritz but even just a friendly, "Hello," or, "Sorry, didn't mean to dump the water all over you," would have sufficed.

Once the burgers came out, we laughed and looked around to see if we could copy how someone else was eating theirs. How were we supposed to eat these? The buns were miniscule compared to the eight ounce snowball burger inside. It was globular, like no other burger I've ever seen. We ordered ours cooked to different temperatures and when I bit into mine it was too well done. I would have switched with Hawkeye, but his was worse. I imagine it's because the patty is so thick and monstrous, they worry about under-cooking them. The burger was dry and no amount of mayo or ketchup helped. Even the onions were dried out. It felt like I was eating straw on cement.

I really wanted to like Corner Bistro. If my burger had been juicy, nothing else would have mattered. I would have quickly forgotten our grumpy server and the dingy surroundings. I noticed scratchings on the tables of lovers and people who wanted their markings left behind in this New York institution. Sadly, I felt like writing, "Mona wuz here, but won't B rushing back."

331 W. 4th St., at Jane St.
212-242-9502