Hold the Sauce

Showbiz and burgers don't mix.

HOLLYWOOD BURGER COMPANY

Marion Food Court, 823 Third Ave., Suite 108, 206-621-1772 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Mon.-Fri. You probably think you know what to expect from a burger place tucked away in a downtown food court that also plays host to eateries with names like Happy Teriyaki and Let's Do Sushi. You're right. Hollywood Burger Company has a film reel in its logo, plays Elvis on the sound system, and has a pillar hung with photos of James Dean, Shirley Temple, and Sylvester Pussycat. The dazzling "Hollywood" aspect of the place goes over better than the "burger" part. It's somehow appropriate that the menu features misspelled tributes to "Bogey" and "Marilynn." It doesn't get the meat quite right, either. Any true burger connoisseur knows that snobbery has no place in ground beef consumption—hell, you can get a lot of pleasure from a Big Mac if you're in the right mood. But I'm not sure what mood would get you excited about one of Hollywood's offerings. Even if you're down with the chain's Hot Dog on a Stick-inspired red-yellow-and-blue color scheme, or amused by the fact that your meal is served in a concessions-stand popcorn bag containing actual popcorn, you won't actively be seeking out any of that kitsch once you sample the wares. "Completely adequate" might cover the bulk of the menu's items, which range from the California Style Burger ($4.49)—topped with Monterey Jack, avocado, and a little too much mayonnaise—to the Marina Del Rey ($5.39), a flame-broiled slightly stringy chicken and cheese sandwich with a little extra kick from fire-roasted chili peppers. The Beer Battered Onion Rings ($2.49) won't insult anyone up for whoring his stomach. And it's hard to go wrong with a milk shake ($2.89); try something stupid like an Oreo flavor if you feel like it. Needless to say, the Four Star Fries ($1.49) are not. One big suggestion: Avoid getting experimental. I was the idiot who ordered "The Duke" ($4.49), which features about a gallon of barbecue sauce and a "heap o' caramelized red onions." I initially took it back, thinking they'd left out the meat. The girl behind the counter found it, though. It had drowned. swiecking@seattleweekly.com

 
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