Denver Magazine / July 2010 / First Bite: Larkburger, Deluxe Burger, and H Burger

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First Bite: Larkburger, Deluxe Burger, and H Burger

A trio of openings proves there’s room in Denver’s burgeoning dining scene for both haute cuisine and good food done fast.

Is fine dining dead? At first blush, the question sounds silly. Denver’s dining scene is humming thanks to a spate of high-profile openings, and local chefs are pulling in national props. But before dismissing the issue, consider this: Where do you prefer to spend your food dollar? On prime rib and marrow bones or on a burger?

More than a few chefs in town are banking on the latter. Following in the footsteps of restaurateurs nationwide, even haute cooking veterans are throwing their hat in the burger ring. With this in mind, I visited a trio of trendy joints that opened in February to see what separates them from fast food — and to judge if white-tablecloth establishments have reason for concern.

Larkburger

The founders of Larkburger understand the threat to high-end restaurants better than anyone. After all, it was the success of the bar burger at their chic Larkspur in Vail that prompted their burger concept. The decor at Larkburger in the Tech Center (the first in Denver and third overall) is Ikea-esque, with white tables and tall ceilings, and of Denver’s three new burger eateries, it exudes the most fast food–like vibe. Then you read that the paneling is reclaimed cypress from California and the canola oil is recycled as fuel, and you know this is not your daughter’s McDonald’s.

The signature Larkburger arrives sideways in a spiffy brown box, an artistic display of seared chuck, green leaf lettuce, tomato, and onion. The beef-to-bun ratio is spot on, with a thick, well-seasoned patty tucked inside a modest, seedless bun. Truffle oil is everywhere, mixed in the aïoli on the truffle burger, in ranch dressing for the organic field green salad, and tossed with Parmesan and parsley on the skinny fries.

Despite the minimalist menu, consistency at this location lags. My tuna burger — a solid steak rocking with wasabi-ginger sauce — would’ve been superb had it arrived seared. A friend’s truffle burger came out medium, not medium-well. There’s a much-appreciated chart on the wall defining doneness; perhaps the manager should take a peek.

Larkburger: 8000 E. Belleview Ave.; 303.779.0093; larkburger.com; open daily, 11 am–9 pm; burgers, $3.25–$7.25.

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Deluxe Burger

A world away from Larkburger sits Deluxe Burger, a sliver of a restaurant that shares space with eclectic furniture store Mod Livin’ on East Colfax. Owned by Dylan Moore of Deluxe and Delite in SoBo, Deluxe Burger is the fast-food alternative that Park Hill needed, and the neighborhood has quickly embraced it. Seating is tight, but that doesn’t deter families from popping in for burgers of all kinds (Angus, chicken, tuna, falafel), crispy thick-cut fries, and the too-yummy-to-share orangesicle shakes, a brilliant mixture of vanilla ice cream, milk, and Tang.

Nearly all the sauces and condiments are made in-house, including pickles and ketchup that tastes like, well, tomatoes. Even the buns are treated with love. Before a turn on the grill they’re basted with extra-virgin olive oil, thyme, rosemary, garlic, and parsley. Too bad the meat doesn’t receive the same TLC. While the tuna and chicken are ground in-house, the beef, surprisingly, is not, nor are the patties hand-formed. Take away the high-falutin’ extras such as Stilton and caramelized onions, and you’re left with a thin piece of ho-hum meat under a plume of Kaiser.

Deluxe Burger: 5325 E. Colfax Ave.; 303.333.5683; deluxeburgerdenver.com; open daily, 11 am–9 pm; burgers, $5.95–$7.95.

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H Burger

LoDo’s H Burger falls in a different category of restaurant — it has servers and a full bar. Like the other two joints, H Burger makes its own sauces. Unlike the others, meat is ground fresh nightly and patties are shaped by hand. So what? I went to Peter Ryan, executive chef instructor at Cook Street School of Culinary Arts, who explained that shaping equipment throws off heat that can cause the “fat to shmear,” leading to a drier patty. Burgers at H Burger don’t suffer that fate though at times they come out under-seasoned.

Not that you’d know it if you order the signature H Burger. Are you willing to roast bacon with brown sugar and red and black pepper, then layer it with chiles, smoked cheddar, and red pepper-tomato jam? Me neither, but I’m glad chef Billy Bridges is because the interplay of fat, salt, and sugar is addictive. However, at $12.95, the disappointing tuna burger wilts under the heat of horseradish and Sriracha, and the Asian slaw isn’t worth the upgrade. Save your pennies for the peanut butter fudge shake, which is blended with liquid nitrogen, so it smokes its way to the table. Gimmicky? Yes. Winning my dollar on nights when I’m looking for something between fancy and what’s in the fridge? You bet. But please, dear chefs, don’t take this as a cue to throw out the white tablecloths.

H Burger: 1555 Blake St.; 720.524.4345; hburgerco.com; open Sun., noon–8 pm, Mon.–Thurs., 11 am–10 pm, Fri.–Sat., 11 am–11 pm; burgers, $6.50–$11.95 (fries included).