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Elijah's Automatic Flame Broiled
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In these increasingly partisan times, not even burgers are neutral territory. And so while some of us get riled up about smash burgers, others would walk over hot coals to avail themselves of a flame-broiled patty.
Then there’s Shant Mardirosian, who proudly swings both ways – and always has.
Growing up in the hamburger heaven that was LA of the 1980s, Mardiron recalls hopping into cars with his buddies and driving out to McD’s for griddle-seared burgers. This ritual would go on for months, until one day, one of the crew would recall the flamed-licked joys of Whoppers, make a sudden swerve, and head to Burger King… only to return to the Golden Arches months later when the craving for Big Macs became intolerable.
Oscillating between these two burger extremes was as natural to Mardirosian as breathing. Which is why, after fanning the initial flames of Toronto’s smash burger craze with his wildly successful The Burger’s Priest – which he founded in 2011 and subsequently sold in 2017, after it had expanded to 14 locations (today there are 30) – he recently inaugurated Elijah’s Automatic, a paean to the singed and smoky ecstasies of the flamed-broiled burger.
In a city that’s spent the last decade in a state of smash saturation, Elijah’s burgers seem radical in their charred retro-ness. Mardirosian observes that while older patrons groan “Oh, how I missed this,” as they bite into their burger (sonically encouraged by a nostalgic soundtrack of ‘80s rock), younger diners who grew up getting smashed are ecstatically Instragramming about the novelty of it all.
Of course, flame-broiled burgers may have fallen from grace, but it’s not as if they went extinct. You can find them around town. That said, you won’t encounter burgers such as Elijah’s, made with AAA Canadian beef, ground fresh on-site, then strategically marbled with 45-day-aged prime rib fat for extra succulence and flavour.
Taking it all it to another firmament are the flames themselves. As Mardirosian explains, when you smash a burger onto a scalding griddle – usually around 500 degrees – the heat draws out and intensifies the beef’s natural flavours. However, when you place a burger onto an open grill and allow it to be seared by flames – now we’re talking 1,000 degrees – you’re also imparting extra notes of smokiness, charredness, searedness that enhance the beef, but also go beyond the merely animal to the elemental.
Auspiciously, the element of fire is omnipresent at Elijah’s, whose exterior – an anachronistically idyllic bungalow-style house (formerly a lawyer’s office) along the busy, increasingly condo-fied Queensway – is as surprising as the multi-roomed interior (with a surprise back veranda for summer days and nights).
It’s amazing how we’re conditioned to associate burger joints with bright, shiny surfaces and gleaming white lights. Just how conditioned becomes apparent when you walk into the charcoal black rooms of Elijah’s, atmospherically lit with the Gothic glow of a cathedral’s worth of candles on the walls, above the fireplace and ensconced in candelabras (perceiving that the candles are battery-operated does nothing to diminish the effect).
Aside from looking really cool, the fiery motifs allude to Elijah’s flame-broiled raison d’être, But they also conjure the dusky carnivorous romanticism of classic steakhouses of yore, a subtle reminder of the burgers’ triple-A pedigree.
On a more mythical/spiritual/Biblical level, there’s also the reference to the restaurant’s namesake, the prophet Elijah, whose prayers to God were answered with a bolt of fire that cooked the meat of a bull, which had been laid on an altar (having attended seminary school, Mardirosian is fond of Biblical references as evidenced by the names of his previous restaurants: Fourth Man in the Fire Pizzeria and Harry and Heels Donuts, in addition to The Burger’s Priest).
Speaking of the Bible, just as Psalm 116 reminds us that “The Lord preserves the simple,” Elijah’s pared-down menu is a reminder of the rapture to be found in the most unembellished and unfussy edible offerings. Elijah’s basic Automatic cheese burger is a no frills, double-patty affair that’s determinedly all about the divineness of the meat and the scorching it undergoes.
Aside from a slice of melty aged cheddar, fixings are limited to the holy triumvirate of ketchup, mustard and pickles (with a little chopped onion), condiments enshrined decades ago by the Golden Arches.
There’s not a distracting lettuce leaf or tomato slice in sight (let alone, God forbid, a hunk of melted foie gras). That said, if you covet, not complexity, but intensity, a couple of extra bucks will get you a burger adorned with either bacon (more smokiness!) or chili (more beefiness!). The latter is a nostalgic nod to the juicy (as opposed to chunky) chili slathered onto burgers at Original Tommy’s, a classic LA roadside burger joint revered by Mardirosian.
Although flame-broiling is synonymous with burgers, it’s in no way limited to them. Reluctant to let all those hot flames go to waste, Elijah’s also literally sets fire to another American classic: the hot dog. Featuring the same toppings as the burger, you can order it au naturel or opt for the chili cheese version.
Meanwhile, a refreshing change from all those delicious but overly ubiquitous deep-fried, crispy, karaage-style chicken sandos, is the charred chicken sandwich. Although chicken breasts can lean into blandness, at Elijah’s they get gloriously smoked before wedged – like the burgers – between a customized brioche bun, then topped with shredded lettuce, onions, pickles and a creamy mayo-forward secret sauce.
That fries are available separately, as a side, doesn’t imply that there’s anything secondary or ancillary about them. In fact, depending on your appetite, you could forgo the mains and pig out on fries and still be very, very happy, the reason being that these slender, golden fries – like McDonald’s fries of yore – are cooked in beef tallow, imbueing them with a crispness and beefy umami undertone that hits a whole lot of pleasure spots (for extra pleasure, top them with cheese and/or chili).
Adhering to Elijah’s guiding less-is-more and don’t-mess-with-the-classics principles, drinks range from beloved soda pops to thick, creamy shakes in tried-and-true vanilla, strawberry and chocolate (if you want to mix things up a little, go for Black & White or Neapolitan).
For a sweet finale, Mardirosian brings in freshly-baked-that-morning, California-style donuts from Harry and Heels. Unabashedly (almost intimidatingly) oversized, but wonderfully light and fluffy on the inside, you won’t find a matcha or lavender specimen in sight. Instead think Boston Cream, chocolate glazed, blueberry and strawberry jelly as well as cinnamon-dusted apple fritters, chock full of apple chunks.
In the end, you don’t go to Elijah’s for something new. Rather, you go for something true: unadorned, unadulterated and often underrated American fast food classics, pared down to the essentials, then elevated via high quality ingredients and good old-fashioned heat.
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