No one can tell me how long B’s Tavern
has been open (not even the regular perched at the bar to read his paper), but it’s dated in that charming dive-bar way. Though the schmutz could be wiped from menus, and water cups that aren’t dirty with caked chocolate would be swell. We’re scared for sanitation as we sip cans of Perrin IPA ($4.25) that we dislike as they’re oddly hop-quiet and malt-heavy. Our bartender disappears to cook our burgers, a Treu Bleu with bacon and the cheese, and the Olde West (each $9.95) with bacon, cheddar, an onion ring and overly abundant barbecue sauce. Twenty-five minutes later, he reappears with surprisingly legit bar burgers: huge beasts with nearly a pound each of hand-formed patties, plus side hand-cut fries and more onion rings, oily and generic though pleasing. No temps were asked and well-done it is, but garnishings are fresh. Kaiser buns are soft and gourmet-ish, and the flavors meld fine. It’s just there’s so much salt in it all, our cheeks ache for two hours after.