Five Guys narrowly beat out Shake Shack in a recent opening battle of downtown’s newest burgers. But how would they both fare against Louis’ Lunch, Rudy’s, Box 63, and Prime 16?
New Haven Independent readers popped that question in commenting on a recent article about the Shake Shack-Five Guys battle. So four Independent reporters flexed their stomach muscles and stuffed their faces to find out.
The winner? Hint: You may have to visit more than one establishment to experience it.
(Watch the video at top of the four judges in action. From left to right: Independent Arts Editor Brian Slattery, reporting intern Sebastian Medina-Tayac, staff reporter Markeshia Ricks and reporting intern Stephanie Addenbrooke.)
Burger battle veteran Addenbrooke had recently eaten entire subsequent meals at Five Guys, then Shake Shack, to determine which served the best burgers and meat-eating experience. Five Guys won on burger quality; Shake Shack was the champ in overall restaurant atmosphere. Addenbrooke re-upped and lent her stomach of steel to the next contest.
This time, the Independent brought the cheeseburgers to the judges and asked them to determine simply: Which burger is best?
Judges rated each burger on a scale from 1 to 5 as they ate it, on taste, presentation, bun, juiciness and cheese quality. (The higher the number, the more they enjoyed the burger.) They were not told which burger belonged to which restaurant until the end. In between rounds, they cleansed their palates with copious handfuls of fries dipped in Rudy’s aioli mayonnaise sauce.
Along the way they discovered their own individual approaches to burger consumption and built deeper connections to their inner carnivores.
The empty plate where a Louis’ burger once stood.
“It looks like a murder scene,” Medina-Tayac said, before chomping into his quarter chunk of a Louis’ burger. Then: “It tastes like a ground-up animal.” He meant it as a compliment.
Hometown favorite Louis’ Lunch claims to have invented the hamburger in 1900. It has changed little in its recipe since – blending five varieties of meat and cooking it in 19th century cast-iron grills, according to the website. Louis’ offers a self-described “fresh burger grilled to perfection,” and does not offer any condiments or additions besides cheese, tomato and onion. The burger is served on toast.
Brian Slattery Photo
Not-so-Insta burger.
Slattery arrived at the restaurant a half hour after the 11 a.m. opening time and found there was already a line – he had to wait till noon to order his burger and take it back to the office. Cost: $6, without fries. (Louis’ Lunch just serves potato chips, another $2.)
Slattery said the wait might have been worth it: Louis’ was the only burger “where you felt like you were really eating the flesh of a cow, which is what I’m there for when I want to eat a burger. As close to raw as possible flesh of a cow.”
Addenbrooke, too, learned she likes Louis’ ascetic approach to meat. “It feels healthy,” she commented. “For a burger.” But, she added, she would have rated it lower if she had to wait in line 30 minutes to eat it.
A Rudy’s burger perched on plate number two—the restaurant and bar was reportedly founded in 1934, just after the Prohibition era on Elm Street and moved in 2011 to Chapel. It’s known for its authentic Belgian frites, which come with 19 options for sauces, including “poutine,” “maple sriracha” and “mango mania.” The Independent ordered a “classic burger,” an eight-ounce patty with bibb lettuce, red onion, tomato and dijon aioli on brioche, with American cheese on top. Cost: $11, including a helping of frites.
Rudy’s burger was unlucky enough to directly follow Louis’ “perfect” patty. Ricks thought it was “seasoned well,” but Addenbrooke found it “really salty. I think they want you to buy a drink.”
Slattery made it clear he would genuinely enjoy and rate highly every single burger on the list — skewing the other judges’ averages.
The judges then tried burgers from the two fast-food places off the Green, starting with newest challenger Five Guys followed immediately by established contender Shake Shack. Both had entirely cooled to room temperature. Fries were not a component of this taste test.
Addenbrooke had rated Five Guys higher, but this time, Shake Shack won. Cost of Five Guys burger: $6.89. Cost of Shake Shack burger: $5.19. Neither price includes fries.
Stephanie Addenbrooke File Photo
Five Guys: the new burger joint on the block.
A cold Five Guys burger without many toppings tasted bland, especially when unaccompanied by crispy peanut-oil engulfed fries. But a cold Shake Shack burger — a bit disturbingly — tastes just as sweet.
“I’m worried about what it is a little bit,” Slattery said, his mouth full of burger. “But I really like it.” Ricks bit into the sandwich and immediately recognized the distinct taste of Shack Sauce — apparently some unrevealed mix of mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, relish and spices.
“What if Five Guys is just really good because you can get whatever you want on it and you have total control over your burger?” Medina-Tayac said. “Maybe the burger itself isn’t that good and it’s just distracting you with all those toppings and shit because they’re free.”
The bun was the celebrity-level star of Prime 16’s burger. The judges spent a few minutes cooing while pressing on its soft, bouncy surface.
“That bun! Feel that bun though!” Ricks exclaimed with pure joy.
“It’s like I’m touching an old man’s cheek,” Medina-Tayac said with a sigh.
“I just want to take everything out and then eat the bread and then eat everything else,” Addenbrooke added.
According to its website, Prime 16 uses fresh Angus beef with no hormones, antibiotics or GMO vegetarian feeds. The menu offers seemingly infinite combinations of meats, condiments, toppings and sides, allowing anyone to customize their ideal burger. The Independent tested out the simplest: the All American burger, which comes topped with Vermont aged white cheddar cheese, butterhead lettuce and sliced tomato slathered with Elm City yellow mustard and smoked ketchup. Cost, including fries: $11.95.
Judges found the burger patty itself was not as flavorful or juicy as the bun’s razzle-dazzle promised. The experience helped Slattery to a meaty self-revelation: “I put all kinds of stuff on burgers and now I kind of know why. Because I see it as a vehicle for condiments.”
By the time the intrepid reporters got to burger number six, they feared for their arteries. “This could kill me,” Addenbrooke said, immediately before picking up a quarter of the Box 63 double-patty sandwich. Box 63’s website notes the restaurant’s “hip, trendy, retro-like atmosphere with a modern American twist,” which appealed to many a Yale student when this reporter was there a few years ago. Cost of an All American burger with lettuce, tomato and onion, including fries: $11.34
Everyone agreed they enjoyed this burger the least — though they conceded the amount of pleasure inversely correlated with the size of their bellies.
Ricks left her Box 63 burger on the plate unfinished. The bun’s flavor was “weird,” the meat “greasy,” and the cheese a little off, she explained. “I think it was a bad burger.”
Ultimately our judges concluded: New Haven has the perfect burger, just not in one place. They proposed a Frankenburger combining Louis’ patty, Prime 16’s pillowy bun, Box 63’s double-patty height, Rudy’s cheese, Shake Shack’s secret special sauce and every single topping Five Guys has to offer.
