Killing Them Softly at Redrum

20 minutes into the drive, I felt my stomach begin to grumble. What must have been a 10 mile drive felt like a mission to the moon. My belly, who shall be known as Hidalgo, cried from its depths in complete and misled hunger…yearning, desiring, longing for that instant satisfaction to be filled with the lies I’ve been feeding it.

“Graaalalalaghghgggh…” translated to, “Please sir, you must believe me, I need sustenance, I need…I NEED…I need Murder Burger.”

“Quiet you fool! You get salad and carrots and watuh!!!!” Little did Hidalgo know I was already on my way to satisfy my craving with old habits instead of the usual grilled chicken, salad, almonds or whatever healthier alternatives I’ve been feasting on lately.

For days, this was the relationship between my stomach and my will power, the battle between craving and self-control. This was Hulk Hogan vs. The Ultimate Warrior, David vs. Goliath, Megatron vs. Prime. This was the never-ending clash between good and evil.

The time was now, the decision on a whim. Satisfaction was destined to be. By the final turn into the parking lot, my sebaceous glands lost control and I felt like my late and dear old friend Chavez waiting for a patty to drop from the grill in a display of patience and drool only a dog can exhibit.



Immediately upon entry I am greeted with the delightfully overwhelming aroma of freshly seasoned ground beef on the flat top waiting to be embraced by warm buttery buns. Once my eyes regain focus after a momentary lapse of my senses, I notice the décor. Typical diner adornments: Gottfried Helnwein's painting Boulevard of Broken Dreams, dust coated Murder Burger shirts, aged awards from the good old days and of course, hand written notices of today’s specials.

As I made the trek to the counter, the eyes of James Dean himself follow me and transmitted a subliminal message. White noise, I swear. “Get the ½ pound kid…with cheddar and all the trimmin’s. And wash it down with a Diet Coke.” Good lookin’ out snake.

And I do just that: half-pound burger with cheddar and all the trimmings, 86 mayo, fresh cut fries and a diet coke to let Hidalgo know that he can’t have it all.

Upon arrival, I scramble to find the first bite. A burger six inches in diameter and with the mass of 8 ounces of beef deserves the appropriate amount of time to determine where the point of attack will take place. Indeed I find it and the rush begins.

Oh the burger was fresh. By my experience, I know these burgers are not frozen. Great pick Dean, this burger was seasoned well enough, adding a subtle edge of savory flavor to mesh with the surprisingly lightly greased beef patty. I’ve come to expect flavors to be disguised by loads of grease at these types of joints. It was a pleasant surprise to experience otherwise. Accompanied by the perfect medley of medium-sharp cheddar cheese, sliced tomatoes, red onions, pickle chips and crisp lettuce, this burger deserved to be nestled between a warm and flaky buttery roll. It was a great team effort by all players involved.

My experience was fine at Murder Burger, now called Redrum Burger. I didn’t wait painstakingly long for my food. The building was cozy and welcoming. The diner feel was legit. And the food was tasty to say the least.

All great things to say, yes, but my quest still continues for the best burger of my life. Who will knock out MendoBurger, the current champion from Mendocino? Murder Burger, you put up a valiant effort and I acknowledge your stab at it, but I must say, you did not take the title for best burger in my book. Look at the bright side though, you most definitely without a doubt beat Squeeze Inn.

And so it goes one more burger joint for the books. Let it be known! Salads cannot stand in between me and my lifelong passion for a delicious burger! It just won’t happen no matter how strong my will power is.

There are others out there. For this reason, the quest continues. Send your suggestions. Show me the burger light. Give me your best.

“I'm not telling you, 'Never eat a hamburger.' Just eat the good ones with real beef, you know, like the ones from that mom-and-pop diner down the street, ... And it's so good that when you take a bite out of that burger, you just know somewhere in the world a vegan is crying.” -Homer Simpson

Long Live the Martini!

If you invented a time machine and traveled back 5 years, you might find a young Cresencio appreciating a deliciously cold Bud Light over a Carne Asada Torta from The Red Wave Inn in Fresno, Ca. Yes, it was a simple time, a wonderful time. A time of friends, college, cheap beer, and awesome pub grub. Back then, I was a naïve young lad and didn’t take the time to really appreciate what else existed in the foodie/bevie world. Little did I know that half a decade later, I would be writing about my absolute love for a new favorite drink, the martini.

It was 2006 and I was getting ready to catch the latest Bond film, Casino Royale. The flick was great, but one part in particular stuck with me the most. It was a quote, the sole reason that inspired me and got me hooked on my then, latest personal discovery.

“Dry Martini…Three measures of Gordon's; one of vodka; half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it over ice, and add a thin slice of lemon peel.”

Sounded like 007 had it right with his signature “Vesper” Martini.

I wanted one. I wanted one just like it. Bond’s martini. So I tried it, a modified version, but tried nonetheless. As I raised the chilled glass up to my lips and got that initial aroma of complexity, my world changed and suddenly I was in a tuxedo. There was a gun in my sock and I was the chip leader at a high stakes poker table. I shook it off and proceeded to sip. Once the coveted liquor covered my taste buds, my tuxedo slowly started to vanish, and I was back in the faded button up shirt and the Express jeans I came to the bar wearing.

I remember thinking, “Wow, that wasn’t what I was expecting. That’s not good at all.”

Determined not to give up on the martini, I decided to take it a little easier. I made up a drink that I still order to this day and would recommend to anyone - something a little more novice.

In an order that would make Daniel Craig himself jealous, I calmly ordered.

“Excuse me. Can I get a martini, 1 part Disaronno, 2 parts Goose, splash of sweet vermouth, with a twist? Up please.” (The tuxedo was DEFINATELY back on at that moment).

It was a much better martini for a novice at the time - also a martini that even a pro could have appreciated. This very drink then launched me into my latest, long standing drinkie adventure. It sent me to a new world of class and sophistication. A world where the nice guy didn’t finish last. "A world of never-ending happiness, where you can always see the sun, day or night.” Where Sinatra tunes were the soundtrack to life, and everyone was wearing evening garb.

But how can one appreciate a martini without knowing its true origin? Well that can be difficult. According to Swankmartini.com, the martini can be credited to a few long standing claims. The first, and probably most popular, revolves around the city of Martinez, Ca. during the 1850s. It was there where gold prospectors ordered a drink named after the city. It contained gin, vermouth, bitters and Maraschino. Based on the ingredients, an evolution of the drink is definitely feasible. A simple tweek of the ingredients and BAM! You’ve got yourself a martini my friends.

Another theory comes out of San Francisco, from a one Jerry Thomas, bartender at the Occidental Hotel in the 19th century. Legend has it that this bartender is the rightful inventor of the famous drink, mixing gin and vermouth for his guests daily.

Nowadays, martinis come in various form. There are more choices in flavor, appearance, distinction, texture, garnishes, and price. One thing is for certain, the martini is one drink that has withstood time. In a changing alcohol culture of bartenders, sommeliers, mixologists, drinkologists, and this that and the other - along with its increasing popularity in movies, bars, and Rat Packs alike - there’s no question that the martini is the most popular drink of all time.

Don’t know where to start? I personally like to stick with a gin martini with little to no vermouth at all. A nice Sapphire, up with a twist does the trick, every time. Too simple? Most restaurants put their own spin on the martini. There is bound to be one out there that is just right for you. Just ask your local bartender. Most of them are just dying to show off their martini-making skills for you.

Cheers, Salud, Chin Chin, Prost, Salute, and Bottoms Up!

HOLY FRIJOL-Y!!!

Is it just me, or are there no really good, authentic Mexican restaurants in Sacramento? I’ve tried a few places but they all seem to be nothing short of an El Pollo Loco or a Chipotle. Now don’t get me wrong, I love me some Chipotle, but I shouldn’t feel like I’m on a quest for food my mom can make right at home. The problem is my mother lives nearly 200 miles away. (However, that still didn’t stop me from getting two dozen of her annual homemade Christmas tamales.)

But alas! The quest comes near a close. Could it be possible that I have found the needle in a haystack? The Holy Grail, NAY! The Holy Frijol-y of them all? Well, I can’t say it’s the place I’ve been searching for since moving to Sac, but it did strike a chord in my foodie heart. It’s a place called Carmelita’s Mexican Restaurant.

Keep your eyes open on the corner of Fair Oaks and Sunrise, because this place really is a hidden gem. As you walk through the double doors, you are welcomed with the Latin sounds of Celia Cruz and Tito Puente, salsa music’s biggest stars. The décor is reminiscent of a vacation hot spot in Cancun, Mexico. Metal artwork, tropical green plants and hanging ripe mangos take you off to a far way land.

Fresh corn tortilla chips, zesty chipotle salsa and fresh pico de gallo await you as you are seated at your table. I suggest trying Carmelita’s Top Shelf Margarita, served with Cazadores Tequila Anejo. It wasn’t impressive at first, but boy, don’t let it fool you.

I had the tacos with carne asada served with beans and rice, which were nowhere near the flavor of what a taco truck can offer, but were still very delicious. The menu was simple, reasonable, and for the most part, all looked very tasty. They even had flan! You don’t see that too often in bigger Mexican food restaurants.

The wait staff was nice and attentive and the bartender was generous. I would definitely suggest this place to anyone looking for good Mexican food, and will honestly eat there again. However, my quest will continue in finding the Holy Frijol-y in Sac.

Family owned since 1962, with two locations in the Sacramento area:

Carmelita’s Mexican Restaurant
4071 Howard St.
Fair Oaks, CA 95628
(916) 961-3327

Or

204 Riverside Ave.
Roseville, CA 95678
(916) 783-0411