We heard “spiked milkshakes” and that’s all we remember before we materialized at Village Whiskey, 118 S. 20th St.
The holy trinity of burger, fries and a milkshake has always been a shining and calorie-laden slab of culinary Americana, and this cozy, upscale whiskey bar does everything it can to crank up the decadence factor on this iconic meal.
Milkshakes at a whiskey bar, you ask?
Yeah, we know. It doesn’t sound like something Jim Morrison would sing about, but before we had enough brainpower to wonder why, we had a menu in hand.
There’s a palpable vibe to Village Whiskey. It’s like the place attracts the kind of people who gather at some point during the day to try to figure out who makes more money. You know, the kind of people who watch “Mad Men” and yearn for that era … But that was during the lunch rush. It could be a completely different scene when the sun goes down.
Anyway …
There’s a lot of bar food and pickles on the menu to help soak up the over 80 types of whiskey and God knows how many beers. But all roads lead to the burgers.
Before we get into that, let’s get the fries and the shakes out of the way.
The fries ($5) were perfect; thick, crispy and fried in duck fat. Other places seem to love using truffle oil for their fries, something we’ve grown to hate with a passion, so kudos for the duck fat. For another $2, you can get the fries served with beer-infused Sly Fox cheddar sauce.
The shakes are something special as well, available in strawberry-rum ($8), Irish car-bomb ($9) and s’more ($8), as well as vanilla and chocolate ($6 each). The alcohol content is just enough for you to know there is something different about this shake, but not so much as to make it obvious you’re having an adult beverage. You’re more likely to get diabetes than alcohol poisoning from these shakes.
OK, back to the beef.
You could settle for the Village Burger ($11), 8 ounces of premium beef with lettuce, tomato and thousand-island dressing. But if you really want to show your fellow whiskey drinkers you are an alpha-burger eater, opt for the Whiskey King ($26). You get the same amount of beef for that extra $15 but now it’s stacked (very high!) with maple bourbon-glazed cipollini, bleu cheese, applewood-smoked bacon and — wait for it — foie-freakin’-gras!
Impressive? Yes.
Tasty? Yes.
Rich? Yes! (Call a cardiologist, please.)
But there are a few drawbacks to living that burger-large. First and foremost, there is no neat way to eat the Village King, as all the fancy elements tend to slide around, squishing and oozing juices in every direction when compressed to bitable thickness. Then you start to feel sorry for the beef as it tries to fight through the savory jungle of toppings it’s buried under for the affection of your tongue.
It’s like taking the rich, popular date to the prom. It looks like fun to everyone else, but your better judgment tells you that you should have brought someone who was less arm candy but way more fun.
In this case, that someone else just happened to be the veggie burger ($8), a low-maintenance but supremely tasty burger made of black beans and lentils, topped with guacamole and pickled red cabbage. Both add a bit of contrasting textures and flavors to a veggie burger that exceeded expectations on almost every level.
Village Whiskey is a nice place to get a bite and a drink but, to paraphrase one of the greats: Save the foie gras for your mama.