Buco Burger

The secret is in the meat

The thirteen delicacies that complete the menu of Buco Burger are elaborated with Irish angus meat. They mince it themselves on a daily basis.

Author: Joan Ramis Boscana

Regardless of how much time goes by and although we have become quite accustomed to its presence, the building of La Misericòrdia is still as imposing as ever. Its austerity looks overwhelming, and its gardens and cloister invite us to contemplate them with joy. We have just left its facilities because we have taken out the membership card of the Library of Artisan Culture, a pending subject that we had been postponing for some weeks. We now walk along Via Roma and approach a hamburger restaurant that since 2018 has conquered the hearts of the people of Palma. Just a three-minute walk away and very close to Passeig Mallorca we find Buco Burger, a project led by Xisco Ramis, the person responsible for infecting his team with his own passion for meat.

Outside, the establishment has a terrace with a few tables, all of them of course, taken. What comes to be a preamble of what we are going to find in the interior of the premises: it is from boat to boat. The Buco Burger on Rubén Darío street - they have another establishment in El Molinar - is rather small in size. The thick pipes running along the ceiling, the black tiled bar and its dim lighting give the space an industrial feel. We sit on an elongated sofa attached to the wall, a neon sign with the name of the burger joint flashes next to us and the diners, each to their own, chat with their partners, children or friends. It is difficult to focus on the content of the conversations while Buco's menu, succulent as it is, requires us to pay total attention to it. We have no choice but to do so.

The starters are titled Let's get off to a good start, which we completely agree with. The ten alternatives that welcome us are too tempting, but some little birdie has told us that the Nachos Buco are a must that we cannot overlook, and that skipping them would be an unforgivable sin. And then there are the burgers, of course. The flagship of the project. The thirteen delicacies that complete Buco's menu are made with Irish Angus beef. They themselves mince it daily and their size can be enlarged according to the appetite. It is Cozumel that seduces us by the spicy description of its ingredients. We know that to opt for a burger is to say goodbye to their bucos, the other stars of a space that also leaves room for sandwiches that, at least in appearance, seem like a fantasy. Next to the door, a guy is about to put a chicken breast sandwich between his chest and back. His happy face says it all.

We stop watching what's going on around us because first things first. And the first thing they serve us is a portion of nachos whose pancakes are fried by Buco's own staff. The main difference about these nachos is not their delicious guacamole or their exquisite pico de gallo but the shredded pork, soaked in sour cream mixed with barbecue sauce, which adds a tremendous plus. If sharing is living, these nachos for two are life itself. We are licking our fingers when our Cozumel comes to greet us. We are faced with a tower of premium ingredients, sustained by some physical phenomenon that we don't quite understand. The bread is fluffy, its softness contrasting with the spicy tone of the jalapeño marmalade and sriracha mayonnaise. The one hundred and eighty grams of meat - this time we ordered it rare - has a perfectly seasoned flavor. The caramelized onion adds a degree of sweetness that harmonizes with the bread. Everything is well covered with some emmental that melts without losing presence.  

When we leave Buco Burger, we look at our agenda so that we can reserve a table for another day. We have to settle accounts with some other dishes.