What the pug burger at Hungry Cat lacks in structural integrity it more than makes up in sheer awesomeness, both of size and flavor. In fact, the glory of the pug is that it manages to be one of L.A.'s best burgers despite the point deduction for ridiculousness. It's a big fucker, maybe only consumable in the traditional way by John Madden, Steven Tyler or Sandra Bernhard. The rest of us have to concede, remove the top bun for later and eat the organic Niman Ranch ground beef, house-smoked bacon, avocado and Danish bleu cheese with a knife and fork like a little baby. More advisable, of course, is to manhandle the thing into your mouth while your friends look on in horror. If you squeeze it, the bacon will grind its way into the meat, the avocado will smush, and the muscular, no-bullshit bleu will spackle the very essence of the Pug. You will get cheese and grease all over your face. Keep going, sexy, you haven't even noticed the grilled brioche, a sturdy roll strong enough to contain the carnage. The pug burger comes with a pile of fries that you could share with your friends, but won't. 1535 Vine St., Hlywd. (323) 462-2155, thehungrycat.com.

—Randall Roberts

LA Weekly