Slake Your Hunger - Burger Winter Is Over
Kraygor stepped to the peak of the ridge and inhaled deeply of the crisp, bitter air. His cape of lionskin was pulled tight across his broad shoulders but the cold air still cut through him like the blade of a southland warrior freshly scraped with a wetstone.
The winter had been cruel to Kraygor and his band of marauders, and they were not accustomed to being the targets of cruelty; they made their way through the kingdom by pillaging and taking what they wanted. But against the power of the Snow Gods even their strength meant nothing. It had been weeks since they overtook the tribe of wandering whore-wenches and quaffed deeply of their stores of salted meats and took their pleasures with their seasoned flesh, and now their stomachs croaked the need for sustenance after sustaining themselves only on the leaves and berries of the trail.
Kraygor turned to his tribe as their boots crunched to a stop in the snow; each hulking warrior’s breath erupted into the air as their lungs heaved against the effort of traversing the conditions.
“Kraygor,” grumbled Galvgar, a brash and ambitious warrior who had made his intentions to someday overtake Kraygor’s dominance known. “We hunger! Our bellies cry out for yak or swine!”
“Indeed,” responded Kraygor as he turned again to the East, thinking that if his riding panther were still alive, he would gut Galvgar and turn him into a feeding trough for the beast. But he was right; the tribe needed to feast or he would face their wrath. His mind turned, contemplating the direction to lead the men. The wrong way could mean death through winter if not by the swords of his vengeful band first.
Just then in the distance, through a bank of dark forest it appeared: a pillar of smoke emerged, clearly from one of the stone chimneys of the Tree-Savages. They were known to stock great stores of provisions: cured meats and fish, urns of dried grains and jug upon jug of sweet greenberry wines. And their daughters were known to be thick of frame and eager of flesh.
”THERE,” pointed Kraygor, extending his sinewy blade-arm in the direction of the smokestack. “Tonight we take our fill of that den’s offerings, whether its owner wishes it or not!”
The tribe raised their blades and whooped their rape-howls, a sound so terrifying it had been known to frighten even the most grizzled of the terrifying grey mountain bears. Kraygor allowed himself a short smile as he imagined the pleasures the night would bring, as his belly would be filled with meat and a horn of intoxicating broth. The winter was finally ending. 
Hi, everybody! I know, your favorite burgeteers done went and left you all alone for a long, long time…but we can explain, baby. First, we were actually doing some chatting with a TV production company about possibly being involved in a cable TV show about burgers around America. Well, that fell through. Then, yours truly went and got himself a new job, and nothing hurts your ability to hunker down at the keyboard to write about burgers like a long day of performing brain surgery in between orating 21st century economic theory at Harvard. I just have too much to give, I guess.
But, here we are, like the dad who said he was going out for cigarettes and then didn’t come back, until it was your birthday and he knew you’d have some envelopes with sweet $5 bills in Yu-Gi-Oh! cards and he needed a loan to start his hot wings-on-wheels business in the back of his ‘91 Impala. But unlike your deadbeat dad, all we want to do is tell you about our most recent burger trip, and maybe sell a few of your videogames so we can pay our electric bill. Then we can go throw the baseball, kid, I promise. 
For this installment of everybody’s favorite occasional burger review, we left behind the scenic parts of San Francisco and made our way not just to the Richmond but the Outer Richmond, home to an endless succession of liquor stores, hardware outlets with tools that were new when Gary Coleman could get women and apartment buildings filled with people either building up the courage to get on or trying to drink away the rage caused by frequent rides on the 38 Geary bus.
On this scenic stretch of roadway sits Belly Burger, a small and nondescript joint that still advertises organic Niman Ranch beef for those with a refined palette who would rather not chug down the gristle on a bun available at the nearby Mel’s American Cafe while watching German tourists suck down a tuna melt. 
Belly is a cozy little spot with seating inside or in an area out the back. They go for the lunch-style ordering system - line up, make your choice and pay and then they’ll call you when your tray of goodies is ready for the taking. This works out great for when you have a large group of people, or for when you go on a date but have no intention of paying for the other person’s food. You ain’t gettin’ all this AND a free meal! 
The menu (which George was pretty excited about) has a moderate selection of burger options and then they have a salad bar-esque boutique of vegetables and sauces for you to choose from to personalize your burger yourself. If you’re not in the mood for a burger, Belly also has a slew of sandwiches, chicken and seafood, as well as, bleh, salads. Although I do give Belly credit - their only salads are a house salad, or a grilled chicken salad - and you can top those salads with chili and a fried egg for a moderate charge. It’s good to see salad get some egg on its face, although those salad options are kind of like the 300-pound woman who goes to Subway because she thinks it’s healthy, then gets a meatball sub and two bags of barbecue chips. 
So we all made our choices, hunkered down at a table and then got to chatting about what was happening on Real Housewives that week. That one girl, who did that thing and then said the stuff to whats-her-face? What a bitch, right? Oh, hey, burgers are ready! 
George went with his De Rigeur (that’s French for the same old thing) and got a regular burger cooked medium rare with a side of fries. Belly’s patties are all a 6-ounce slab of their premium angus, and it comes out with that nice grill char to it. It’s almost as pretty as George but let’s not get too crazy. 
Erica got a bacon cheeseburger with swiss and some regular fries, then topped off the burger with a slice of pineapple, in accordance with her love of Don Ho and his sultry vocal stylings. In addition to the pineapple you can also slather your burger in the typical onion and pickles, or go for chickpeas, jalapenos and mushrooms if you’re a geek. 
Domingo decided to follow George’s lead and grow a manly lumberjack beard and learn to tickle the ivories, but before that comes in he went with a regular burger and fries. Hey, it’s worked for George for the last fifteen decades. 
Chris decided to take his burger on an Eastern pleasure tour and went with the Teriyaki burger, which simply means Belly offers up the burger with a healthy helping of Teriyaki sauce on top. Chris ran it through the veggies, including some mayo and ketchup for safety. 
Leila gandered at the menu and decided to go Trial By Fire and ordered Belly’s Chili Cheeseburger - WITH onion rings. So let it be written, so let it be done! 
Not to be outdone by my wife - and because clearly our day was done after this - yours truly ordered Belly’s Double Cheeseburger, totaling 12 ounces of beef for a tummy celebration that is already planning on an afterparty in the colon. I also got the curly fries to go with it, just for something cute and adorable. 
And thus, we were on our Belly journey. Would it be satisfactory? Would our tastebuds dance in an orgy of flavor delights? Or would we be disappointed that we had eaten garbage AND found ourselves in the Outer Richmond? Read onward, true burger believers. THE NUMBERS!
This Burger Be Crazy: Meat Quality
Belly advertises its beef as Premium Certified Angus Beef and All Natural, but we didn’t quite notice that zing-zang-oh-my-goodness-stop-the-presses flavor. It’s entirely possible that we’re spoiled Bay Area brats who have spent too much time enjoying the pleasures of the Niman flesh, but the entire crew found Belly’s burgers to be solid and adequate, but not something that anybody would go nuts for. 
On the plus side, we did all like the bar of topping options. Ahh, screw it - I’m from the Midwest, I’m calling it a Toppings Bar. Who wants to drink a glass of whole milk and judge those goshdarn Lutherans and the way they dance at weddings?
Anyway, the toppings bar was a nice touch that allows you to customize your burger in a myriad of ways. Belly doesn’t have much in the way of their own specialized burgers, but their model seems to be to allow you to make it your own. And indeed we did, from Erica’s pineapple ‘splosion to George’s Lettuce, Tomato, Pickles and I Like Ike burger. 
While none of us were loving our burger enough to run out into the street and shoot pistols in the air, the combination of decent quality meat, a healthy portion and moderate price meant that nobody was disappointed either. Belly isn’t breaking any new burger ground here, but they’re also not farting in the face of burger history.
Burgers Be Shoppin’: Final Meat Score - 6 out of 10
Regular Sides Do This: Fries and More Score
Do you love fresh-cut fries, special seasoning recipes or a shop that uses the owner’s grandmother’s recipe for a batter to make their onion rings? Us too! If you’re really in the mood for any of those things, don’t go to Belly, because the only grandmother involved is the one who got suckered by the TV preacher, lost all her money and had to get a job hauling bags of frozen food down at the processing plant.
That’s not to say that the fries and onion rings aren’t sufficient - they’re better than the ones you’d get served at a Jack in the Box from a dead-eyed 24-year-old who can’t stop thinking about how he’s going to manage to pay for daycare for two kids AND get those new limited edition sneakers he wants. But they’re also not going to leave much of an impression, either - like the John Mayer of side dishes. You’ll only remember it if they do something really douchey. 
The standouts of the sides were probably the chili, which has a nice flavor to it despite being served in a clear plastic bowl like you’re a prisoner at San Quentin, and the garlic fries, which managed to be garlic-y without tasting as though they’re designed to kill Dracula from across the room. 
The chicken wings, however - blech. It was as if a crew of suicidal chickens decided to get vengeance on a world they hated and committed seppeku by jumping into a Chicken Wing machine designed to make the gristliest, cruddiest hunks of leathery meat-wands possible. Even coating these things in ranch dressing and barbecue wouldn’t hide the fact that they taste like they were cooked by an alcoholic clown.
Black Sides Do This: Final Fries and More Score: 5 out of 10
Burgers, I love Ya But Y’all Be Crazy: What Happens After Score
A six-ounce patty is a moderate size, and if you eat the whole thing and try to hit a yoga class, you could become the horn section of the namaste band if the meat isn’t decent. Or if you get the chili or garlic fries. Or a milkshake. Actually, why would you eat a burger and then go to a yoga class, unless you’re a jerk who intends to spend your afternoons farting in stranger’s faces? Go do downward-facing dog somewhere else, smart guy.
But you get my point. For most of the crew, the Belly burger wasn’t a gut-bomb and their days were not impeded for activities by their meal. For yours truly, who ate 12 ounces of meat, the regret sank in almost immediately, especially once I climbed onto the 38 Geary back towards downtown and felt the meat sweats overtake me. If you don’t know who the sweaty, scary person on the bus is, it’s probably you. But I was able to get a seat to myself for once! 
Eating one of their standard six ouncers won’t do much damage if you’re a regular to the Beef Dance, but if you’re planning on any real activity I’d avoid the double. Even now it haunts my dreams, like a Vietnam Veteran who ate a big meal and was uncomfortable instead of spending years in a savage jungle in a war he didn’t understand.
Make Some Noise, Burgers: Final Aftermath Score - 8 out of 10
So, should you venture to the boonies of the city for a Belly Burger? One of us called it a “Workingman’s Burger,” just to make sure we made our quota of Grateful Dead references in a San Francisco-based blog. All of us agreed that the pricing was good and while Belly isn’t the kind of thing we’d crave, it isn’t half-bad either.
Normally in this situation I’d say that “if you’re in the neighborhood,” but I can’t imagine many reasons that somebody would be in this neighborhood, unless you need a bottle of Chinese whiskey or a box of Russian pastries. If you live nearby and have considered giving it a shot, stick to the basics on the menu and sides and you’ll walk away happy. It’ll be a nice reward after your day of weary travels. If you don’t live in the neighborhood and don’t have any plans to be there, then I wouldn’t make the trip just to stop at Belly. It’s all right, but nothing worth the indignity of your transportation options to get there. 
And, hey - we all finished ‘em. Sure, we’re eaters of the highest order, but if something doesn’t satisfy the burger itch we don’t scrape the trays clean like that.
Belly Burger gets a Not Too Bad from the SF Burger Blog.
And with that, we end our latest installment. My apologies again for taking so damn long, but hey - life happens. On the plus side, I’ve lost a few pounds from not eating so many burgers! We’ll attempt to make the next review come a lot faster, but in the meantime let me soothe you with some pictures I snapped recently on a trip to Yosemite. Mother Nature knows what you need, baby. See you later! 
