The burger: I spent a few days in New York City this week, and since my hotel was a three-block walk from Madison Square Park, I decided to make a Burger Friday stop at the Shake Shack.
Restaurateur-to-end-all-restaurateurs Danny Meyer launched this fast-food phenomenon from a hot dog cart, and it had been a few years since I'd experienced its charms. (Meyer's empire, which has amassed a staggering 25 James Beard awards over the past 24 years, started a few blocks away at the Union Square Cafe in 1985). After several headed-to-the-subway walk-bys, I wasn't surprised to discover that the Shake Shack – which is located in the southeast corner of what is easily one of Manhattan's prettiest parks – is as popular as ever.
It was easy to discern the fool's errand-ness of a drop-by during peak lunch and dinner hours, so I opted for a mid-week 3 p.m. plan instead. Silly me. I'm not exaggerating when I say that, upon arrival, I found 97 people queued up, a figure that eventually translated into a 43-minute wait. Fortunately, it was a spectacular spring day, and, as previously mentioned, I was standing in a supremely appealing urban setting.
I probably owe Apple a note of thanks, because when I got in line, the battery on my iPhone was reading 4 percent. Annoying, yes, but a nearly-comatose phone has its benefits. For once, my eyes weren't glued to my phone. They were where they belong: on my surroundings.
There was certainly plenty to take in. For starters, the park is ringed by a hefty number of architectural landmarks. Architect Daniel Burnham's iconic Flatiron Building (pictured, above) has been dominating the park's southwestern flank for 112 years. The park's eastern border is graced by the former Met Life complex, including its 700-foot tower (the world's tallest when it opened in 1909), modeled after the Campanile in Venice. Architect Cass Gilbert's 1928 New York Life Building, with its distinctive gold-gilded pyramidal cap, anchors the view to the north. The neighborhood's most notable newcomer is super-skinny One Madison Park, a glass-clad slip of a 60-story tower housing 53 luxury condominiums (media mogul Rupert Murdoch purchased the four-story, 10,000-square foot penthouse a few months ago for nearly $58 million).
The park itself is a flat-out knock out, a series of lawns and gardens bisected by walking paths, monuments (my favorite is sculptor Augustus Saint-Gaudens commanding memorial to Admiral David Farragut, he of "damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead" fame), a fountain and a playground. I can recall when the park was a derelict mess, but a multi-million dollar fix that began in the late 1990s has meticulously restored its formal, late-19th-century splendor.
Tulip season was in full swing, and the park's 10,000 bulbs dazzled, as did the many flowering trees, all decked out in their lush, Technicolor-soaked splendor. A different kind of scenery, no less watchable, was the never-a-dull-moment aspect to New York City people-watching. Long story short, it was a not-unpleasant wait. Neither was the 15 minutes that lapsed from when I handed over my credit card to when I was eating.
Given the competition, I wasn't sure if I was going to secure a table. The outdoor-only restaurant has a relatively large seating area, sheltered from the sun by some of the park's many leafy Sycamore trees. Fortunately, I lucked into one right away.
