By Nora Zelevansky / February 18th, 2011

Meg at Go Burger

Get your mind out of the gutter.  Adult milkshakes have nothing to do with "burning loins" or "units" of any kind.  (That means "penis" for those of you who are romance novel illiterate).

Anyhoo, I went to Go Burger with M., T. & R. the other night, which just opened in Hollywood.  The folks behind BLT created this spot, so my expectations were pretty high, I'd say.  And, yeah, they were pretty much met.

I mean, I'll never have a fried pickle as good as the ones from Stevensville Crab Shack, but one only finds oneself in Maryland so often and these were pretty tasty.  My lactardness kept me from trying a Jalapeno Popper, but word on the street was that they were awesome.

Next time, I'm getting in on the pigs in a blanket.  How could I have missed that?  My sister and I literally used to make frozen boxes of them as kids and eat them while watching Revenge of the Nerds.  (Yup, C., I outed you too).

I did splurge and get the hardcore Prime Steakhouse Burger with brisket, sirloin and shortribs and also caramelized onions.  It was no joke.  I mean, if you're in the mood for some serious beef, I recommend it. (That was NOT a romance novel reference BTW).

Sadly, I couldn't have an "adult milkshake" like M. is drinking above, which she said was delicious, but heavy on the rum.  T. stuck to the pure classic and got a non-alcoholic version called "Cookie Monster."


My lactard life is sometimes a trial, but I carry on.  Sigh.

Anyway, I also ran into some random NYC friends from growing up, which I guess is some kind of sign that – I don't know – me and Go Burger were meant to be.  I guess you could say, I was there for the right reasons.

Will you accept this rose?

Seriously.  I can make ANYTHING about The Bachelor.  Test me.  I dare you.

xo – N.


By Nora Zelevansky / August 24th, 2010

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It's that time of year, folks.  Time to throw on the sun-bleached Forever 21 sundresses and worn in flip-flops, put down the Blackberry and let the hair run wild (well, less wild in my case, since I just got a Global Keratin hair taming treatment at Sally Hershberger).

And, okay, let's be honest: I'm bringing both my Blackberry and laptop and will be checking them aaaalllll the damn time.  But maybe I'll be just a little less glued?

Anyway, it's time for my annual end of summer/Labor Day trip to the east coast, which generally involves fried pickles and a lot of blue crab with Old Bay seasoning.  But this year, Andre & I are also headed to South Carolina and North Carolina, so hopefully there will be lots more LINT to collect!

In the meantime, my posts may be a bit sporadic.  Forgive me.  Sometimes even I need a little un-work related vacay!

xo – N.


By Nora Zelevansky / March 12th, 2009


(8 oz's Estancia Grass Fed Beef Burger/Photo By Zora Ginsburg)

Now, I know what you're thinking: "Where the hell are the fried olives?  That looks a lot like a hamburger."

Dude.  Chill out.

No, the truth is, you're right. How can I claim to have found "The Best Fried Olives," without so much as a picture to show for it?

Well, I'm not going to make excuses (that would be lame . . . r), but let me explain: the sordid tale began last Friday night, when, feeling in a particularly classic LA mood, some friends and I grabbed drinks at The Chateau to celebrate our pal P.'s new job.  After much vodka, rosé and beer was consumed (not by the same person, although that would be impressive), we were staaarving, so we headed to my latest favorite upscale street food spot 8 oz Burger Bar.

It had been awhile since I showed up at a resto snockered at midnight to scarf anything and everything in sight.  I'd forgotten how wonderful that experience can be.  In fact, largely thanks to drunken ordering (uninhibited by finance, calories or anything else that ceases to exist in a buzzed world), we did it up right.

First, we ordered (duh) the Fried Green Olives stuffed with chorizo and fried spinach flakes (yup), a strawberry shake, great local beers on tap, Fried Pickles, Truffled Potato Skins and (at the suggestion of the clearly Mensa waiter) a signature Short Rib Grilled Cheese to be divided seven ways.

Obviously, this all got eaten before I remembered that I even had a blog, let alone that I should take pictures to document the experience. But I did steal these images from their website:

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(Fried Olives and Truffled Potato Skins) 

The Fried Olives are always (not that they've been open that long) my fave here, but everything else was also delicious.  In fact, the Grilled Cheese was so appreciated that some people ordered that as their main dish in addition to the appetizer nibble.

Luckily, Z. had her shmancy camera, so her burger was documented (see above).  There's a "build your own" situation here or you can just play around with some of the pre-planned recommendations.  I can't even begin to list all the amazing sauces and toppings offered at this organic-happy, free-range, farmer's market joint, but suffice it to say that Z. ordered the Estancia Grass Fed Beef Burger with heirloom tomato ketchup, garlic aioli, onion, pickle, charred escarole and (her brilliant addition) a big fat square of fried mozzarella on top.  I mean.  C'MON.

(My Turkey Burger/Photo Also By Z-Dog Ginsburg)

And lest you try to argue that a turkey or veggie burger is not worthwhile, above is Exhibit A, proving that free-range turkey burgers hold their on.  Mine came with sauteed mustard greens (which are a little bitter like collards—yum), horseradish dijonaise, pickle and I added (drum roll please) a fried green tomato on top.  I mean, shut up.  SHUT UP.  So good, right?

Anyway, while I must apologize for not thinking of you all and not properly documenting the bestest fried olives around, at least it meant you got some real quality time with the 8 oz burgers.

And that's got to be worth something, no?

xo – N.

P.S. Next stop Umami . . .

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(8 oz's Industrial Bistro Eco-Conscious Decor–Gotta Love)