Burger Friday: Copper Hen Cakery & Kitchen

The burger: A person doesn't go into the Copper Hen Cakery & Kitchen thinking that they're going to encounter a burger for the ages. A spectacular brown butter-enriched chocolate chip cookie, or a live-altering bacon-blueberry muffin, yes. But a burger? Not really.

But at second glance, it's not such a stretch. Owners Danielle and Chris Bjorling are in the business of transforming flour (I like to think of their kitchen as a modern-day Pillsbury Bake-Off, back in the era when the contest was all about creating sensations with Pillsbury's Best all-purpose, rather than repurposing Grands! Flaky Layers Butter Tastin' Biscuits; you know, actual baking). With a burger, the process often starts with a hamburger bun.

And when it's the Copper Hen, we're talking a fantastic hamburger bun. It's a brioche-style beauty, shaped by hand and baked each morning. The Bjorlings are keeping no secrets where all of that soft, yeasty deliciousness starts.

"The amount of butter in that thing is ridiculous," said Danielle with a laugh. "It's so rich that lots of time I order the burger without the bun, even though the bun is the best part." (I stringently advise against that. The bun must stay). And no, the kitchen doesn't add a swipe of butter when the buns get toasted.

"They have so much buttery texture as it is," she said. "That would be overkill."

As if prudence was a genuine concern. Please. The patty is another wonder, a thick, roughly-hewn monster using the ground beef mix from Peterson Limousin Farms in Osceola, Wis. The kitchen fortifies that flavorful but lean grass-fed meat with — you got it — butter. "We brown a ton of butter and basically fold that delicious fat it into the beef," said Danielle Bjorling.

Yes, the glory that is brown butter. Are you sensing a pattern yet? I'm so trying this formula at home, because it's a strategy that leads to an outrageously rich patty, one that simmers in its own juices on the flap top grill until the meat reaches a barely pink medium-rare.

The rest is refreshingly uncomplicated. Yellow onions are peeled, cut and cooked on the stovetop, low and slow, until they reach a gently sweet, compote-like consistency, then heaped on top of the patty with gleeful abandon. English cucumbers are sliced thin and cured in vinegar, jalapeño, garlic and mustard seeds until they hit that crunchy-tangy sweet spot.

In the best-for-last department, there's a ridiculously addictive cheese sauce, inspired by the kitchen's A-plus mac-and-cheese. Here's how it's made: Four cheeses -- Gorgonzola, sharp Cheddar, white Cheddar and American ("which gives it the viscosity that it needs," said Danielle Bjorling) -- are brought to an oozy melt on the stove, then steeped with whatever hoppy beer is currently available at the bar (right now it's an India pale ale from Ballast Point Brewing & Spirits in San Diego) and puréed in a blender.

The result is vaguely resembles what might happen should someone try masquerading an artisan-crafted beer-cheese soup with that crazy tortilla-topping molten glop served at movie theaters. It's an ingenious crowning touch for one of the Twin Cities' great burgers.

Price: $12.

Fries: None. Instead, there's an appealing pile of field greens, tossed in a vibrant honey-nurtured sherry vinaigrette. At first, this too-healty-for-my-own-good gesture felt like an enormous cop-out. But the greens act as a kind of garden-fresh palate cleanser, one that allows a person to indulge in one of those brown butter chocolate chip cookies.

The Bjorlings steer clear of deep fryers, but burger lovers with a hankering for fried potatoes are not without options. For an additional $2.50, the kitchen will toss in a side of its smashed potato home fries, which are baby potatoes, slightly cut and smashed in the pan as they're fried in olive oil. They're taken to a tantalizing crispiness, and I highly recommend them.

At the bar: Someone in the building is clearly a beer lover, because the Copper Hen's ever-evolving chalkboard list is forever revealing some previously unknown — to me, anyway — craft brewery (San Francisco's 21st Amendment Brewery) or oddball beer (Crème Brûlée milk stout, from Southern Tier Brewing Co. in Lakewood, N.Y.).

Secret weapon: The Copper Hen has what few Eat Street-ers possess: A (free) parking lot. It's directly across Nicollet from the restaurant, and for those who who arrive via automobile, it's a godsend.

Address book: 2515 Nicollet Av. S., Mpls., 612-872-2221. Open 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. Tuesday through Thursday, 7 a.m. to 11 p.m. Friday, 8 a.m. to 11 p.m. Saturday, 8 a.m. to 10 p.m. Sunday.

Talk to me: Do you have a favorite burger? Share the details at rick.nelson@startribune.com.