I am not one to wait in Soviet-style lines for Cronuts, Nutcros, or Empanosas. And, if I am going to spend my valuable time waiting in line for the latest edible sign of the end of the apocalypse said time will not commence at 5 a.m. I suppose that’s why I thought it would be a good idea to wait in line for the Ramen Burger last Saturday morning at Smorgasburg. The Williamsburgh waterfront is a mere 45-minute ride away from my house and the rain will likely keep the crowds down I reasoned.
Curiosity to try the burger with ramen noodle bun caused me to break two of my rules: travelling to Brooklyn and engaging in food faddery. When I got on the bus I heard that line was already 50 people deep. Then my friend Sam Kim texted me to say he was number 110 on the line. When I got there the line snaked all over the market. Sam told me that the Ramen Burgermeisters had been through the line twice and assured him that he’d get a burger. Wrong. After about an hour on the line a gent came by to tell everybody that the Hype Burger—I mean Ramen Burger—was sold out. I seem to remember chanting “Attica!! Attica!!” upon hearing the bad news. All of us briefly entertained the idea of slugging someone and snatching their Ramen Burger, but reason prevailed.
I have nothing against the Ramen Burger. How can I? I didn’t get to taste one. I do, however, detest waiting for no reason other than the anthropological study of 21st century culinary lemmings, myself included. I ran into my pal Noah Arenstein whose kugel double down remains the only noodle sandwich I have ever eaten at Smorgasburg. Noah, good friend that he is, offered to make us some kugelburgers, but we politely declined. Sam decided to seek his fortune and elsewhere in Brooklyn that day so Noah and I headed over to OddFellows Ice Cream Co. to drown our sorrows in exotic frozen confections.
After a cone of burnt marshmallow ice cream I was starting to feel better about the world. Then Noah said something about foie gras ice cream and blueberry soda. No such item appeared anywhere on the chalkboard menus. “You have to ask for it,” he said. I think said something like “Well what are you waiting for let’s get one.” After forking over $5.50 for this secret menu special we were presented with the kind of tasting board more commonly seen in beer bars than ice cream parlors.
On the left side was a cup of tannish ice cream labeled foie gras, peanut, cocoa, caramel. And on the right sat a glass of dark purple elixir bearing the legend blueberry soda. The ice cream was rich, sweet, and livery in the best possible way coating the palate with fatty goose liver. The peanut and other ingredients balanced the liveriness. When a sip of the soda was taken the whole thing tasted like a very grown up, very decadent PB&J. Best of all we didn’t have to wait in line for this creation, but for the record, I would.
OddFellows Ice Cream Co., 175 Kent Ave., 347-599-0556