Was it modern Yankee spirit or inspired marketing savvy that led Boston’s Ritz Carlton Café to offer a $42 burger on their lunch menu? Granted, hotel food is often expensive. But this seemed excessive.

The only restaurant I know that offers such a pricey patty is New York’s Old Homestead, that venerable Ninth Avenue landmark steakhouse in the meat-packing district. Their version is the $41 Kobe Burger. It’s made entirely from Kobe beef derived from Japan’s prized exotic cattle. The beef is highly marbleized, as rich as foie gras, and can cost upwards of $300 per pound for the real thing.

I was fairly surprised to see such a trendy item on the Brunch Menu at the Ritz last Sunday. Their rendition was a New England version appropriately called The Lobster Burger.

As soon as I saw it on the menu, I knew I had to have it, even if the price was obscenely high. I wanted to see how it would compare with a similar offering at the Union Square Café in New York. Theirs, made with tuna, is utterly unique and wonderful but not nearly as costly. Would lobster meat benefit in the same way?

My companion ordered a modest dish of corned beef hash for $16. I figured that averaging out the price of our two entrees wouldn’t be so untenable.

I like the Ritz because it’s convenient, comfortable and gracious. I go there frequently when I’m in Boston. The food is good and I love its urbane view of the Common and Public Garden. If I have any complaint, it’s that the service, though attentive and congenial, is often slow and plodding.

We waited nearly 30 minutes for our lunch. The hash came first. Then after a dramatic pause, as though a curtain was being raised, my epic burger was center stage.

Standing about a foot tall, a towering giant, it was way too large for the bun. It was loosely balanced on what amounted to a chef’s erector set of French fries. These were no ordinary fries, either. The potatoes had been cut to look like 2-by-4s, oven-baked and arranged in a criss-cross pattern as support for this prodigious monster.

It was remarkable. So, too, was the sudden silence in the dining room as everyone watched the waiter carefully guide This Thing to my table.
Needless to say, I was fairly embarrassed, all eyes upon us.

Was it worth all the fuss and expense?

I hoisted the burger off the potatoes, discarded the top half of the bun and began to eat this wondrous edible with knife and fork.

It was delicious. It was exotic.

What made it so? It was mixed with miso-glazed caramelized onions, pickled cucumbers and a wasabi aoli. The burger was as thick as meatloaf. But something was missing. I could detect many flavors, but lobster was not one of them. Perhaps too many strong spices were thrashing about, masking the underlying ingredient. And I couldn’t figure out what was holding it together.

For $42 I hoped that it wasn’t bound with breadcrumbs or other fillings like overwrought crab cakes. I continued to nibble away, ate some of the boulder-like fries, also wonderful, and somehow managed to finish most of my lobster burger.

Though I enjoyed it very much, I was very perplexed by it. The color was not that of lobster but had, instead, a beige, almost-brownish tinge, as though some other meat was present.

When the waiter came to clear our plates away I asked him how the burger was prepared. I wasn’t ready for his answer. “It’s made with tuna steak... and some lobster.”

You mean I just consumed a tuna burger for $42? I thought, outraged.

Ultimately, I suppose, there’s nothing better than the purity of a classic lobster roll.

What could I do? I ordered it. It was delicious. I enjoyed it tremendously but would have liked it more at half the price. And in a perfect world it should have been.

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