If I visited Father’s Office again I would have gotten another Office Burger and more of the different beers like Alaskan White, Arrogant Bastard, Abyss, and others that I don’t remember. You can order regular beers like Coronas but why would you when you have the best craft and specialty beers on the west coast. Seriously, if you like beer, this is the place to be but the burger takes the cake. When I went, it was with my sister Joanna, and my cousins Dana and Chuck to celebrate my 21st birthday, which was, you guessed it, 21 years in the making and where better to commemorate my legalization to booze than a bar with arguably the best burgers in the nation, ranked. When we walked in, the smell of people, beer, and grill floored me. The ambience fit the locale perfectly with the dim lights giving everything a slight glow, the walls covered with countless taps of the massive beer selection—and I mean massive; ales, lager and everything in between. The place was jumping and was completely packed, like shoulder to shoulder guests. Everyone who’s anyone was there from young business men in suits spreading business cards to beer aficionados who slowly drank their brews while analyzing the consistency and longevity of the head. Even homosexuals were in attendance from the West Hollywood gays in cashmere sweaters and finely jujjed hair to the suburban gays in low cut V-necks with over stylized faux hawks. Ordering was a total bitch, screaming was a requirement, and that didn’t guarantee than anyone’s going to hear; just think taxi cab in New York and you get the idea. Outside was just as packed and was the only place with open tables. Everyone was huddled under the hot warmers that overlooked half the tables like a broiler and the rest were off in the corner, dark, desolate, and cold as fuck. We lucked out and found a table near a warmer so we were nice and toasty. I had two Office Burgers, sweet potato fries, and two tall glasses of the Port Brewing Midnight Sessions. I can’t stress this enough, the Office Burger is heaven on a platter—nirvana. The moment I started eating, everything disappeared; I was alone with the food, everybody around me melted away into the blur of the background leaving me with my beautiful bounty of delightful sustenance. The burger had fresh, crispy arugula over two week aged ground beef which was like having a cow slaughtered in shop to be served fresh. It was accented by onions with smoked bacon minced in and everything was cradled by crispy yet fluffy French bread that must have been baked fresh. After each mouthful of the burger followed a beefy aftertaste that dares you to continue eating but doing so was excruciating ‘cause it’s one bite closer to being finished. It also brought me farther from my cousins, who no longer existed—I was so focused on the intense flavors of the grubbage. I was flabbergasted to think I’ve missed out on burgers like this for so long. Gone are my days of McGriddles or Baconators that taste like mass produced tires, the Office Burger found a special place in my stomach. The burger went beautifully with the Midnight Sessions lager which poured straight from the tap in all its dark, full glory. It exuded the aroma of roasted malt and the flavor of pristine stouts, the sweetness hinting through the flavor of the roasted nuts and chocolate with the essence of hops just being noticeable. The mild carbonation allowed the complexity of the brew to shine uninterrupted making it seem like angel piss—ambrosia on Earth. Best of all is this is all served one way and one way only, the way that they make it; if you want it changed, get the fuck out. How do I know this? Someone asked for ketchup and the waitress just laughed and walked away; now that’s do or die service. What was once a full platter of food and glasses of beer, was reduced to an empty plate with traces of blood, juice, and crumbs. Once I was done, it was time to go and I missed out on most of the conversation because of the meal. I just spent whatever time I had remaining at the Office reminiscing about the burger knowing that I won’t be eating it too often to keep it special, as it deserves to be. I’m hooked.
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