Today we visit a hamburger that by all means should not exist. It’s borne of a fundamental contradiction: a beef sandwich from a land where cows are sacred. I’m talking about the beef tikka masala burger from Gaia Masala & Burger. As all fusion restaurants do, GM&B deftly severs its dishes from their cultural context and nestles them in with a bedfellow from half a world away. Though such an alloy often begets a sad and rootless bastard (think Korean tacos), at Gaia Masala & Burger, all are invited to the table as one happy foster family. There’s hardly a Springster (someone from Colorado Springs?) around that can’t find a piece of themselves in the menu and mission of Gaia Masala & Burger.
A mid-morning Air Force x Colorado College double date that overshot the Jimmy John’s next door? Check. A multi-cultural crew of stoners with sensitive stomachs? Yep. Twelve Greek Orthodox vegans versus one Muslim carnivore in a Jubilee faceoff? All will find a home in GM&B. 10 a.m. to 3 a.m. Vegan, gluten free, halal. Indian, American, Mediterranean. These guys long to encounter a customer they can’t satisfy.
Enter Burgerthought.
A brazen perusal of a menu that read as a history book about the bewildering intercourse of globalization left me feeling a little lost. The ennui only intensified as I eyed the photos of Italian scenery on the walls, which evoked the image of a turnkey conversion from a tired pizza parlor to a tired pizza parlor serving a representative dish from every corner of Eurasiamerica. I recovered my nerve and ordered a mango lassi and the beef tikka masala burger.
Mmm! First I found the bun, bright and brown as the sunkissed ombré mantle of a Norwood 7 after a day at the lake. It was scrumptious, sumptuous, voluptuous. Glowing in the heart of the dark, warm cave was my mild+tikka masala, spicy enough to prick the tongue without upsetting my stateside sensibilities. Considering the depth of the garam masala blend (packing just about every powder in the kitchen cabinet), the chef did well to limit the burger’s other elements. Simplicity allowed the curry’s warmth to grow until it coursed through each cell of the sandwich and conversed fluently in the five languages of flavor. I only wish there was more. And then came the pickles, supplying their ever-critical zip in a new and fruity light. Anchored in a foundation of oozing jack, the patty did its job without commanding much attention. My sides aroused a surprising departure from procedure and switched roles, as I found myself browsing the fries (perfectly frizzled) between bites of burger and saving most of the mango lassi’s yolk-blushed beauty for the comedown.
On the whole, I’d liken the beef tikka masala burger to a Nicholas Sparks hardcover: fiery and stirring with more than a few twists, but, held at a $16 ransom sans tax and tip, it’s a premium price tag on a pedestrian premise. Maybe, Mr. Sparks, you really can’t please everybody. If you’re reading this and you’ve tried the Jumbo Jackfruit Tikka Masala Cheesesteak, call me up. I’m awfully curious. My best to you and yours.