Never in my life did I imagine that I’d one day make arguments against hamburgers, but I have all but pleaded with chefs to stop putting them on their menus. I recognize that the notoriously thin profit margins of the typical Chicago restaurant often require the fattening properties of what’s becoming the chicken breast of the average modern American menu—the thing that timid, incurious eaters can be depended on to order.
These days the diner burger is in ascendance, but the impulse to use it as a vehicle for incompatible top loads maintains.
Supporting roles at Mini Mott are played by shoestring fries dressed with garlic confit and by wings—small, sugary, soy-saturated chicken wings crusted with everything-bagel seasoning. (The latter were developed at the mother ship, Mott St; the former first introduced at Kim’s late Ruxbin.) “Hangry Wings,” another version of these petite pinions, is closer to the Buffalo standard, slathered in a mild sambal compound butter.
3057 W. Loganminimott.com
