On sunny June days in downtown Culver City, the fragrance of Jacaranda flowers melting on hot asphalt hangs heavy in the air. Top forty pop songs crackle from a blown outdoor speaker by the Steps, while the historic Culver Hotel casts its signature wedge-shaped shadow across a knoll of fake grass. As in any rapidly developing part of town, fast-casual outlets and gastropubs are flocking in and jockeying for position – – safe if uninspired bets for both tech bros looking for a predictable meal and finance bros looking for a predictable development. If one listens closely, past the one-sided airpod conversations of Erewhon shoppers, one can hear the soul of the neighborhood crying out for anything remotely counter-culture. Just above the corner of Main and Culver, as if in answer to this call, a shaggy white dog with a twinkle in its eye presents a lightly masticated vegan burger for our consideration.
A playful teal facade with red accents frames tall glass doors, which are followed by an accessibility ramp leading down to a sunken den-like dining space. “Monty’s” pops off a blacked-out wall in drippy neon lettering, and other nods to horrorcore culture strike a tenuous truce with the more twee design elements. Diners can sink into a booth, perch on a chair or fidget atop a swiveling bar stool according to their preference. The menu is approachable and short (labels I’ve also been assigned) and it offers a quintessential selection of fast food offerings.
The burger comes half-wrapped in parchment paper, the bun tastefully slathered with a thousand island style dressing. The craggy edges of the smashed Impossible patty are browned to perfection, and the cheese handles its business as both a bonding agent and ingestible ingredient. The pickle chips are mild and chewy; to brighten things up further Monty’s packs one of the better tomatoes I’ve had in a fast food burger. The tomato strikes an herbaceous counterpoint to the umami patty and its acidity complements the gooey cheese.
Monty’s also offers crackly tater tots, skinny fries, a Nashville Hot ‘chicken’ sandwich with a mandolined slaw, permanent and seasonal shake flavors, and a few more burger shack standards. Across the menu there are no real surprises from order to ingestion, but it ultimately feels very much by design. Monty’s demonstrates restraint with their focus on thoughtful ratios, quality ingredients and deft preparation. This is a deeply secure joint, ready to run counter to both carnivore culture and that of overcompensatory vegan fast food. In doing so, and despite their somewhat brand-aware presentation, Monty’s bears more than a whiff of punk. Who’s to judge their poodle-mix mascot for laying on the eyeliner a little thick?
The fast food experience is designed to take us back in time because to many of us childhood felt like a kinder age of our lives – – at least for those of us with the privilege of rose-tinted glasses. To be a converted vegan and understand the consequences of our former lifestyle strips away some of that tint; consequently these types of spots will always have a higher bar to clear in order to strike the same chord. The savvy spots look forward to evoke a kinder future. While it may be difficult to imagine vegan fast food becoming as ubiquitous as its omni forebears, a bite of Monty’s Good Burger brings this vision into sharp focus.
