I don’t know if this review is fair. Connie and Ted’s is a long-standing LA institution known primarily for its seafood. But my visit to this nautically themed legend had nothing to do with their selection of fish. It was a mission to taste one of the most talked about burgers in the city. While I can only speculate on how amazing their lobster roll or salmon filet may be, I can say that burger is worthy of a write-up. The experience, as a whole, left a lasting impression on me. Should I return with a group, I’ll sample the fish. But if you asked me where I’m going after a rough day from here on out, my reply is, “Straight to C&T for the hook burger.”
Nothing satisfies the senses more than a great burger. I’ll live and die by that statement. I was skeptical when I heard the best in LA was in a seafood restaurant in West Hollywood. But the moment I walked into Connie and Ted’s, I sensed I was in the right place. On a lonely February evening after a depressing day, this restaurant single-handedly restored my happiness. The experience as a whole was magnificent. Seated at the bar, my server quickly took my drink order. There was no dismissive attitude when I decided against alcohol in favor of a soda. I felt invited and welcomed from the jump.
I scanned the menu and resisted ordering the fried chicken special. My mission was simple, and that was to find a depression-curing burger. The hook burger comes with 4 year-aged cheddar, thousand islands, and all the fixings. But you can also add bacon which I strongly suggest unless you are someone who doesn’t enjoy the fun. I zeroed in on my target and ordered. As I waited, I took in the atmosphere. The place was casual but fit for a romantic evening or special celebration. There’s a distinct energy that only a restaurant with a talented staff can give off. Connie and Ted’s had that in spades. I watched servers, managers, and bartenders politely address each other and keep pace. No stress or disdain; simply push to complete the mission.
My burger arrived. A massive specimen that looked fit to satisfy any pallet. The cheese was artfully melted and oozed perfectly from the patty, and the bun looked like a work of art. As it arrived, I was joined briefly by who I assumed was the manager. He gazed longingly at my plate and sincerely uttered, “please enjoy. That’s the best thing on the menu”. And with that, I knew I was in for a treat. I couldn’t help but smile throughout the majority of my visit. But I must have looked like an idiot as I lifted the cartoonish sandwich to my mouth and swooned over the first bite. The bun was adequately toasted without sacrificing the bread’s softness on top. The cheese and dressing perfectly fit as teammates but didn’t overpower. But the patty was the star. It was juicy and flavorful with distinction and character. It was greasy but not enough to make the bottom bun soak. Just a hunk of perfection and art. Mentioning the bacon seems redundant because you already know it was good. So that’s all you need to know.
I’ve been stunned by the experiences of legacy restaurants in LA. Places with years of experience and hoards of critical acclaim. All of them could choose to take their foot off the gas and approach service with less energy, knowing their reputation would carry them forward. But none of them have. Connie and Ted’s was a prime example of this. The experience was magnificent. All members of the team executed their tasks perfectly. But they also maintain a level of excellence felt in the energy of the eatery itself. I’ll always love this place. The hook burger is the best I’ve ever had.
