NVM Review

By Warren Rojas

While the name on the sign seems pretty vanilla, the menu at Joe’s Burgers is anything but. Of course, with siblings like the tapas-themed Corner Bistro and classically Gallic Le Mistral, it’s no wonder the fledgling burger operation (opened June 2007) takes some liberties with traditional grilled fare.

Company CFO Al Laroussi swears the gourmet burger stand was born out of a desire to offer loyal patrons yet another casual dining option in downtown McLean. “It actually helps us to have different kinds of restaurants because we serve clients who are interested in both gourmet burgers and Spanish tapas,” he said of the impromptu restaurant row they’ve stitched together along the same stretch of road.

Likewise, Joe’s does not need to fear too much competition from more well-established burger chains, because they consider themselves somewhat of a different animal.

Make that, several different animals.

Though you can certainly get a standard cheeseburger at Joe’s, the brunt of their menu is dominated by exotic meats and multi-faceted preparations.

In the mood for flame-kissed ostrich? They’ve got it. Prefer more of an open-range feel to your meals? Stretch your culinary legs with the buffalo burger. Second-guessing yourself about heading next door for tapas? Indulge all your appetites with a cooked-to-order Black Angus burger bedecked with manchego- and olive-infused dressing.

Laroussi said co-owners Beverly and Joseph Alonso strove to develop the roughly dozen specialty burgers at the heart of the menu, but noted that they always welcome input from patrons on where next to take their burger passions.

In my opinion, there’s already plenty to celebrate.

The aforementioned venison burger never ceases to satisfy, delivering a leaner patty than some of the beefier standard bearers, but much more flavor to boot. The well-peppered game works best when served slightly scorched on the outside, succulently tender within (juices should run ever-so slightly red) and dressed with homemade barbecue sauce (acceptably sweet), caramelized onions, robust slabs of grilled pancetta (bacon’s totally cooler big brother), melted Gruyere (provides a welcome dairy kick to the protein-rich production) and sauteed mushrooms (spongy exclamation points).

Grilled ostrich summons lean but expressive meat (more pronounced than turkey, less gamey than lamb) that retains its juiciness and flavor well—even it if winds up being the baby of the bunch (patty looks to be about a quarter smaller than other burgers).

A Black Angus burger delivers well-charred beef gloriously slathered in molten boursin (equal parts cream and herby snap), sauteed mushrooms and just a squiggle of the house barbecue sauce packed into the accommodating brioche bun.

The so-called special Kobe burger, on the other hand, was neither Kobe—a universally revered grade of beef extracted from extravagantly pampered cattle raised exclusively in Kobe, Japan; think of it as the champagne of beef—nor particularly special. This American wagyu (remember: all Kobe is wagyu, but not vice versa) knockoff was plenty tasty, but nowhere near as marbled/dense/intoxicatingly rich as authentic Kobe. And the plain-Jane soy marinade is nothing you haven’t tried elsewhere.

Above-the-grill counter hangs a vintage pharmacological ad urging yesteryear’s diners to “Eat meat—meatless diets are often dangerous,” followed by a testimonial espousing that “97 of Southern California physicians endorse meat.”

Confidence is high you could snag the final three holdouts (assuming they polled 100 docs) with Joe’s venison burger.