NOVEMBER 7, 2025 | FEATURES | By Asa Gartrell
“Strip malls,” proclaimed Jeff Bezos in 1999, “are history.” And history makes a good hamburger. Nestled between a VASA Fitness and a nail salon in South Colorado Springs, The Public House serves up a time-tested mushroom swiss that’s earned the adulation of many a Redditor. I took my notebook and a powerful appetite down to the strip to separate the signal from the noise.
I started off with the fried green tomatoes, which were irresistible. More impressive than the chèvre and mustard sauce combo was the transformation of Colorado produce from a cold, bland indignity to a stronghold of southern charm. Primed on a helping of three-inch cornmeal coins, I ordered up and went Looney Tunes on the portobello piece without demur.
Mmm! The sandwich wooed me from the first bite, with the forest-floor flavors of bourbon-glazed fungus. I swear I could taste the barrel’s charred white oak in each bite. Softening slowly, the swiss was more soul than hole. Underneath, the patty perched on the young side of medium, wrapping up the complex flavors in the lingua franca of heat-blushed beef.
But when I stepped back to appraise the burger, I felt a rush of surprise. It was so… spare. Nothing more than a pretzel bun, a well-cooked patty, a sheet of half-cold swiss, and a handful of uneven portobello pieces, lazily piled. Still enchanted by the warm glow of its flavor, I began to question my expectations. Surely a burger needs some onion or a special sauce? Maybe a fresh vegetable? But here it was, turning down the volume and taking me for a ride.
When I went back in, I needed a little acidity—the pepperoncini garnish served as a necessary halfway mark. But without consistent zing to round it out, the burger lost a little luster in the third quarter. Still, I had to respect the confidence of serving the solid and simple for 16 bucks. And that cracking bourbon glaze…
On the whole, I’d liken The Public House’s mushroom swiss to a paperclip: a meditation on the follies of maximalism that gets the job done and resists reinvention. Not unlike a strip mall. My compliments to the Halloween decorator. My regrets to the ho-hum side slaw. My best to you and yours.
