WHERE: Bar Luca
WHAT: The Blame Canada Burger
RATING: read on to find out….
REVIEWER: Stefania Perrone – Account Executive
This burger restores world peace. This burger ends poverty in the third world. This burger has found the perfect work – life balance with enough time leftover to attend six Bikram yoga classes a week. This burger tells you that you look pretty even when you don’t feel it and serenades you with Spanish love ballads on a Flamenco guitar. This is the kind of burger I would bring home to Christmas dinner. I would hit this burger with a triple text and feel no shame. Immediately after meeting this burger I’d apply for a joint mortgage so we could start planning our future together. Many years from now, when my withering body has failed me and I sigh my last breaths on this Earth, there will be only one memory that transcends time, age and a lifetime of experience- the moment I first laid eyes on the Blame Canada.
It’s blatantly clear to me that these burgers weren’t crafted by the hands of man. If you were to glance into the kitchen at Bar Luca you would see only a wispy cloud conveyor belt connected directly to the gates of heaven, where a chorus of angels are lovingly monitoring their descent to Earth. Upon consumption, you too are instantly elevated to a celestial state- the likes of which Buddha, Gandhi & Mother Teresa pale in comparison.
I recommend visiting this flavour palace on a Monday or Tuesday, which are free fries days- although in truth I’d gladly trade my bed, life savings and Grandma for one bite.
When venturing into the literal glitch in the matrix that is Bar Luca, I must forewarn of these crucial points of note:
- Many a human has found these burgers so overwhelmingly delicious that their sensory receptors went into overdrive and they suffered a mental collapse. These burgers are not for the weak of mind.
- Regarding menu choices- trying to land on a final decision may trigger crippling anxiety. I am here to guide you through this spiritual journey, so I put forward my recommendation of the Blame Canada. Please imagine a trumpet solo slowly swelling to a crescendo as you read the following: 200g Beef patty, Maple glazed streaky bacon, American cheese, Maple aioli and a stupid amount of Poutine. Think it sounds too intense? You’re wrong. You’re so wrong. The myriad flavours playfully flirt in your palette to form a better union than Brittney Spears and Justin Timberlake circa the double denim era. So wrong it’s right. Don’t question it.
- I cannot stress this enough- this burger is messy. Messier than Johnny Depp’s divorce. Act as if the apocalypse is nigh and the only thing that will prevent your demise are 3 Ply napkins. Weave yourself a Hazmat suit made entirely of serviettes if you have the time. You will need them.
In conclusion, I refuse to give this burger a rating. I ask you- what kind of a heathen society do we live in if we presume to attribute a numerical value to such a complex subject? How do we sleep at night knowing that something that surpasses all logic and reason is being objectified and cheapened to a rating out of 10? I won’t stand for it. We’re better than this. I staunchly reject the notion that in these modern times we would exercise a practice so archaic and demeaning.
But if I had to then it would be 5 out of 5 EASY