Noshing in the Midwest: Red Cow

On a recent, cold Saturday evening, I was craving a hot, greasy burger. This doesn't happen often, so my family jumped at the chance to enjoy one of their favorite meals. On the way to the relatively new Red Cow on Selby in St. Paul (there is also an Edina location and a soon-to-open Minneapolis location), I told my husband I would be thrilled if Red Cow came even close to the burgers at Blue Door (where one of the most craveable burgers ever bestowed upon humanity, the Jiffy Burger, reigns supreme.) We love Blue Door, but the St. Paul location is too tiny and the Minneapolis location is...well, in Minneapolis.

Mission accomplished.

But first, the negatives, 'cause that's just who I am.

The space is gorgeous, no doubt about it, with dramatic red booths, fantastic cow paintings, and lots of dark wood everywhere. The former home of Costello's Bar is refined and classy, with pops of crimson everywhere. The seating, however, leaves much to be desired. There are only a handful of comfortable booths, and entirely too many high tops to be considered family-friendly in my book. A three-year old would risk a broken arm or two teetering up there at those high tops, and the teeny tiny vestibule was crowded with tables. I felt sorry for the poor patrons who got stuck there, with hungry would-be customers lurking over their shoulders. I don't understand the choice of high tops, but maybe I'm the exception. I find them terribly unwelcoming. They don't say, "come, sit for a while, stay for dessert." They say, "Champps" to me, and that is not a good thing. It was packed, which is always a good sign, but I would not go back on a Saturday night. Any given Tuesday, I am there.

We got lucky and after about 25 minutes, we were sat at a tiny table that barely fit the three of us, but at least it was a half booth so it was nice and cozy, and out of the way.

And now, to the good stuff. Service was top notch. Friendly, knowledgeable, unhurried. I opted for the Barcelona per the recommendation of the lovely couple next to us. Considering she was practically sitting on my lap, I felt like I could trust her already. The Barcelona is topped with Manchego cheese, prosciutto, piquillo peppers and a smoked aioli smear. They had me at Manchego. Hubby went for broke with the Royale, 'cause he's all fancy like that. Beef patty, pork belly, arugula, brie and tomato jam. Yep, super fancy.

Both burgers were decadent, perfectly cooked, and topped with on-point, balanced flavors. But the fries...oh. My. God. The fries.

Not since Little Tel Aviv in Minneapolis closed its doors have I had such wonderful French fries. When I was younger, my parents fried potatoes at home, in some old frier they dragged with them all the way from Israel, and those fries, my childhood fries, were my idea of heaven. And I'm not even a fry girl! At Little Tel Aviv, they created equally magical French fries, and now again at Red Cow. They are surreal. No, really.

I couldn't resist the dessert special, even though I finished every last bite of my burger (also never happens). Creme brûlée topped with sour cherries, or something like that. But you know what? Meh. Lovely creme brûlée, but the topping was basically thick, uber sweet cherry jam. Next time, I'm finishing my fries!

Oh, we'll go back to Blue Door. There is no way I can forgo my Jiffy Burger. But I am already planning the next trip to Red Cow (Breakfast burger, I'm looking at you!) and dreaming about those spuds.