Captains of Industry, Take Heed

What better way to give the middle finger to the upper class than to take the epitome of opulence and put it on a bun?  Whether or not this was the intent, PYT's latest Burger of the Week does just that, adding a few ounces to their always-perfectly-cooked patty, then topping it with truffled lobster and a creamy aioli. What the fuck indeed.  It worked on more levels than there might be at the summer home of Juan D. Rockefeller,* but the overarching success was its balance.  The flavor was neither too beefy nor too lobstery, and the texture of the ground beef commingled with the texture of the lobster like old country club friends over one too many old fashioneds.  The chunks of lobster stayed with the sandwich due in large part to a tycoon-sized helping of fresh aioli, which I thought was a great strategy to handle any dreaded lobster leak-out.  The fries, whose portion was also tycoon-sized, spent too much time in the salt mines for my taste, but I was able to cut the saltiness with a can of 21st Amendment Hell or High Watermelon Wheat Beer.  At $14 for the burger, there are very few places where you can get more bang (and lobster) for the buck.  For all you early majority/late majority/laggard types that couldn't make it last week, you're in luck.  According to Tommy Up's twitter feed, it was so popular that he's keeping it on the menu, and since they're currently swimming in lobster, there's even the possibility of a lobster roll special.  Now count how many times I said "lobster" in this post and take a drink for each one.  Lobster.  Buen provecho.

*John D. Rockefeller's Mexican non-union equivalent, also a captain of industry.

Peeing into an Ocean of Hype

Back in July, I sat down to a gratis meal at PYT. Soft open or no, free or paid (come to think of it, I threw down a $20 tip), I was blown away. Then, in September, Trey Popp made me feel guilty for giving props, thinking perhaps that the only reason I didn't find the burger marginally better than an Angus Third Pounder was because it was free. I don't know the guy from Adam, and a single post shoudn't make you a villain, but it's hard not to take it personal, especially after hearing the deafening rally cry put forth by the dude behind Phoodie.info. I wasn't able to shake his hand at last night's Social Media Club meeting, but it was like watching a white Che Guevara. If I had a gun in my hand, it would have been fired in the air, if not at someone else. But this isn't the point of this post. What we need to discuss is that for the second time in as many visits, PYT delivered the goods once again.

Wading through the endless @tommyup tweets and retweets, the good reviews and the bad, I'm reminded of 2001, when there was a group of five trust fund shitheads who gave sliced bread a run for its money, sailing the tradewinds of hype until they wound up marooned on an island of haters. Oh yes, The Strokes were munched up into bits and pieces until some kid in Pumas informed me that "they were so six months ago." But objectively speaking, if you drowned out the noise and just listened to the music, it was brilliant. An old friend of mine hit the nail on the head by saying that they made rock sexy again (I guess they brought sexy back before JT). I would have to say the same goes for the burger at PYT.

This time around (and to the disdain of my arteries; sorry guys), I opted for the Fat Boy Monster, two patties, cheese, special sauce, bacon, and two onion rings. The challenge was not whether I could finish the thing, but how well it would travel back to Chestnut Hill (newborn baby and all). And the verdict? PYT knows how to cook a burger, season a burger, and top a burger. Cooked perfectly to temperature, each bite was juicier than the previous one, and although I got my stemless wine glass a bit greasy, it was totally worth the mess. I was also pleasantly surprised that it traveled so well. The fries were another story, but the onions they were tossed with made up for the expected sogginess.

I have to agree with the masses on service. I placed an order to go, so I suppose I'm an outlier, but it's clear as day how little of a shit the bar/waitstaff gives about the customers. It's almost like PYT is Leave it to Burgers from Silver Spoons and the staff are just extras in the background. Make no mistake, the vibe is fun, but a little bit of "how's everything?" goes a long way, and if it's what transforms good into great, I suggest Mr. Up give his employees a kick in the pants. Buen provecho.

Sunday Vacation

"This is the perfect hangover food." - Mrs. Gastro

After I got the email on Thursday, I wondered if there was a catch. "You and a guest are invited to try the new menu at PYT. Regards, Tommy Up." I also wondered how Mr. Up happened upon my name. Then there was the bit of trepidation that I'd show up today to some sort of shit show and not even get to eat, or worse, it would be like the dream where you're walking through the halls of your alma mater without pants. Thankfully, all of it was unfounded (and I remembered to wear pants), and in place of the anxiety was a straightforward meal that could work at any hour of the day.

Feeling a bit off from the car ride (if you're coming from Northwest Philadelphia, take note: there's a section of Germantown Avenue closed in a section where you don't really want to have to take a detour, so take Lincoln to Kelly, even if it's a bit longer of a ride), I was pleasantly surprised to see two words that pair better than a porterhouse and a cabernet, "free" and "parking." Having not yet been to the oasis that is the Piazza at Schmidt's, this was an added bonus, especially since we were running a bit late. An immediate seating awaited us, followed by a short delay, followed by a very apologetic and attentive server that completely made up for said delay. A Stone IPA and a coke spiked with cherry soda helped us wash down a simple cheddar burger (I haven't tasted a burger cooked that perfectly since my honeymoon) and a 'shroom burger, whose inspiration I had assumed came from Danny Meyer's Shake Shack (this was later corroborated by Mr. Up himself); you take two portobello caps, layer some cheese in between, batter and fry it, then top it with some special sauce and tuck it into a toasted bun. It's the alpha dog of veggie burgers, or maybe the funny fat kid. Whoever you're comparing it to, one things for sure: somehow it belongs with the meats, even though it showed up under the Bogus Burgers section of the menu. On the side, a sack of fries and a sack of onion rings. While I wasn't much for the fries (hard to get a handful with my mitt-like hands), the onion rings were in my top 3. Sturdy after the initial bite (I hate it when the onion slips out), well seasoned, and well battered. A chewy and sweet success.

To top it all off, the bartender came out with a special mojito that was more Lucy than Desi (that's good thing): strawberry infused prosecco in lieu of simple syrup, arriving at the latter end of the meal and offering a delicious palate cleanser. Another added bonus? Mrs. Gastro being with child meant two of these for me, and since I also ordered a Kenzinger after the Stone IPA, I gave myself a healthy buzz. Since I'm in agreement with her that this would be amazing hangover food, I guess I'll just have to head back to PYT tomorrow, non-gratis, but it's so good, I'd pay double what they're charging. Buen provecho.

PYT is located in The Piazza at Schmidt's. It's pretty hard to miss the three giant letters in the window, but if you're blind or just more interested in fitness, it's next to the running store. The food's cheap, and it's a great place to hang out. If I didn't have to drive home, I probably would have sat there all day cranking brew doggies. I'd also like to offer my apologies to our waitress. I would have left a bigger tip, but I only had 16 bucks on me. More photos here.