This godforsaken place has the best burger in LA hands down, most likely the best in the world. Too bad the tables are so close together it’s like being on a double date, and the service is so brusque that you’ll think you’re Oliver Twist. They don’t take temperatures on your meat, it’s either medium rare or well-done. Everything but the burgers lack seasoning—my salad had no discernible taste whatsoever, and since when is plain ricotta cheese on top of a few beets and watercress even called “salad” anyway? Everything was so terrible that by the time I got my burger I was all geared up to bash it, but my God was it delicious. I mean, absolutely perfect, an explosion of flavor and tenderness and sheer bliss. I am not exaggerating, the meat itself was so tender and flavorful that it would have been superlative all on its own, but then the crisp, chewy Parmesan wafer and the sweet tomato on top brought it to a whole new level. And that’s just the namesake burger. The other burger we ordered, called the Hatch Burger, was even better if you can believe it. Some Yelpers have deemed it “overpriced,” but I’ll shell out $9.00 for the best burger I’ve ever had any day. You won’t want anything but the burger, so you’re golden on price. Oh man, I want one now. And it’s only breakfast time. Damn.