Last night I joined two friends at Ballard's Lunchbox Laboratory, a new restaurant from former Blue Onion Bistro owner Scott Simpson. These friends of mine are sensible-diet types (one of them a vegetarian), but they love heavy comfort foods, provided those dishes serve as the punctuation at the end of a salad. We took a seat in the Lab's tiny, kitsch-rich dining room and ordered the following:

Two orders of mashed potatoes, with two sides of ham gravy

A queen-bed-sized hamburger, impossibly tender and dripping with Gruyère cheese and garlic-pepper sauce

An order of multiple-fromage mac 'n' cheese with a glob of butter melting in its center

A vegetarian burger with a slab of falafel in lieu of beef

An order of tater tots with (inexplicably vegetarian) bacon-onion flavored salt

A Boston Creme Pie milkshake

Is the food delicious? Yes, every bit of it. Is it unique? I can honestly say I've never had a ham gravy that's tasted so much like Underwood Deviled Ham, nor have I ever decanted gravy onto my taters from a china demitasse cup and saucer. Is it heavy eating? Let me put it this way: It's a pure, sweet, juicy miracle that I'm even able to talk to you now. Some 18 hours after my trip to the Lab, I've still got the worst case of food coma known to humankind -- and we didn't even come close to finishing everything.

Simply looking at the menu is enough to make your head swim. I counted five different kinds of burger meat, including prime rib, buffalo, Colorado lamb and Juicy Lucy; there are 15 cheese options, ranging from New York white cheddar to havarti; and the sauce list boasts both "standard" (ketchup, mustard, French, etc.) and "off the wall" options (sweet chili mayo, balsamic hoisin, stoneground horsey aioli and a dozen more). You can top off with maple bacon, crushed green olives or carmelized onions, and complement your savory Frankenstein with sweet potato fries, a "mac 'n' cheese du jour" or "Mr. T's onion straws."

There are even more options than what I've mentioned above, but I'm sure you'd like to wrap this up sometime today. That means I'll have to give short shrift to the milkshakes (chocolate-cherry cordial! Nutella!) and sodas (Bubble Up! Empire Pineapple!), and only give a cursory nod to the decor, which is almost entirely composed of discardia (the "EAT" sign is made from an old Texaco sign) and lunchboxes from the pre-emo golden age.

(The Hair Bear Bunch and Speed Buggy lunchboxes are my favorites -- though I have to admire the parents who bought their kid an Exciting World of Metrics lunchbox, and the kid who probably used it to defend himself from bullies who weren't ready to give up the standard mile. That kid had some onions on him -- at least a hectoliter's worth.)

In other words, this Lab specializes in full-on sensory overload. Thankfully, Chef Simpson and his partner Allegra Waggener will talk you through the haze -- they suggested a simple beef burger with one cheese and one sauce, and by golly, it worked -- and they're more than happy to tell you what's in everything the Lab prepares, which made the herbivore in our party very happy. It's rare indeed to find a burger place that's so willing to accommodate vegetarians.

Lunchbox Laboratory is a terrific place, and I celebrate it. It balances excess with excellence. That said, I probably won't be able to go there for another month or so -- and I'll spend every moment until then eating rice and vegetables, hitting the gym and familiarizing myself with the Lab's menu items.

And, oh yeah, I'll remember to take the following morning off from work. G'night.

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