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| - When I was younger I had a shirt that said "Clive" on it in fancy lettering. That shirt pissed me off because for months I thought it said "Jive". Upon discovering the horrible truth I couldn't find any definition for the word "Clive". So there I was, some dork in a Clive shirt that nobody understood.
That has very little to do with this review, but I need you to understand that for this bizarre reason I was pre-determined to not like Clive Burger. It took some introspection while staring at my bedroom ceiling before I realized the source of my dislike for a place I had never been, but, well, there it is. Psychoanalysis complete.
Luckily, Clive won me over.
Going to Clive is like meeting the sexiest hippy you've ever come across in your life while attending a business course; a Hippy who unabashedly sports long dreadlocks but also happens to be listening to Bon Iver on an Ipod they fashioned out of all-organic coconut husks while wearing a pinstripe three piece suit made of fair-trade cotton.
"Hippyster", if you will.
The place is extremely trendy; whoever is responsible for their branding hit several home runs. The space they're in is ultramodern and you feel slightly cooler for being in there, smiling as people walk by and thinking to yourself "I am SO in right now."
But then, behind all the suave branding is one of the most environmentally aware businesses I've come across in the city. Everything they give you is compostable - from the burger boxes to the corn plastic cups your shakes come in. Their beef is some sort of crazy organic meat setup where I'm sure the farmers hug the cows and give them names and insist that they are only hand-fed grass grown in a terrarium.
Oh, and they have Gluten-Free and vegetarian options, but why a vegetarian would go anywhere that ends in "Burger" is beyond me. Maybe it's the same reason straight people go to a gay bar.
The greatest thing about Clive, and what I'm shocked nobody is really emphasizing, is that unlike other burger joints (like the massively underwhelming Loungeburger) you can put as many extra toppings on it as you want without having to pay more (With the exception of cheese and bacon).
I can't emphasize enough how rad this is. It's like buying a car and then having the salesman tell you that you can add an obnoxious sound system, spinning rims and an 8 foot spoiler for free. Suddenly you're driving the coolest Prius in the neighborhood.
But seriously - add jalapenos, mushrooms, caramelized onions, hot sauce, special sauce, mayonnaise, two kinds of mustard, ALL. FOR. FREE!!!!!!
But sadly, reader, I took this privilege too far. I ordered a double burger with cheese. Then out of foolish excitement, I pretty much added every single optional topping there was. What arrived to me was indeed my burger, but I had created a goopy, dripping monster.
Granted, they gave me exactly what I asked for, but my burger looked like burger soup. How did it taste!?
Glorious. Not the best burger I've ever had in my life, but a great addition to Calgary's food scene and far and away less embarrassing than going to Harvey's ("Oh, you actually come here too!? High five!")
But the joy doesn't end there. Crispy fries cooked up in Peanut Oil are sure to please, unless you've got a peanut allergy in which case you will die a horrible death upon consuming just one.
Their shakes are delicious also; I sampled one but can't recall the flavor, probably because I had seared my tastebuds off at that point eating hot sauce, hot mustard and jalapenos amidst a sea of other toppings.
Not feeling a shake? Good news, they're licensed.
In the end, Clive's friendly service, super-customizable burgers and environmental awareness make it a fantastic place to drop by. It's not the best burger you've ever had - and if you don't add the extra toppings the price point might seem a bit high - but I was a happy customer.
Not quite happy enough to go dig out my old "Clive" shirt, but close.
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