Start with the hot wings. Try the ‘napalm’ ones if you’re the kind of masochist who enjoys losing all sensation in their lips and tears running down their gourmand cheeks. There’s plenty of carrots and blue-cheese dip to soothe your senses. Tear yourself off a paper towel, hell, get a bunch of them; you’ll need them at The Bird, as eating without cutlery is actively encouraged, and there’ll be plenty of juices going astray in those cute dimples or your facial hair.
The Bird is no secret; all of Berlin already seems to be very much aware of this haven of American cuisine hidden behind Mauerpark, which makes coming in without a reservation a rather dangerous gambit. Service is unobtrusive, the kitchen quick–both advantages of being so popular. Unlike White Trash Fast Food, another Prenzlauer burger mainstay, the atmosphere is decidedly low key, not a great deal of rockabilly posing for the tourists here. With its exposed-brick walls, simple wooden tables, well-stocked bar, and old-school Stones soundtrack it could almost pass for a real American restaurant, were it not for the absence of those enormous televisions distracting even the entirely uninterested by displaying ‘the game’ in all its epileptic, full-color glory from each corner of the room.
All this to make us really appreciate the meat on offer here. Sure, the fries are delicious and crisp, but the burgers are sublime. Order them from the griddle or the grill, and pick your choice of toppings, onions, mushrooms, bacon, egg, cheese, delicious guacamole even (when the *tasty* kind of avocados are available, that is). Do yourself a favor, though, and don’t settle for anything more cooked than medium rare, as it would be a dishonor to both you and the beautiful German cow that must have gone in to make these enormous burgers so effing special.