THE SCORE: Hip-Hop Homophone History, Pt. 1

Numerous reviews of Eminem's latest album, Recovery, praise his return to lyrical supremacy, his mastery of the English rhyming dictionary and his crafty wordplay. At least in one case, however, he's more innovative than inventive.

The evidence of his rapping skills is easily found in the record's first single ("Not Afraid"), a three-verse barrage of puns spliced with another attempt by Eminem at a sing-song chorus.

The track reaches its climax at the end of the second verse, where the clever lyricist drops this hard-not-to-notice gem: "But it's time to exorcise these demons / These mother-f***ers are doing jumping jacks now!"

It's undoubtedly a powerful line, and one that paints a vivid picture of Eminem's personal battles. But let's rewind about three years, when he was somewhere in the doldrums between Encore (2004) and Relapse (2009) ...

PATTY DOWN: Barney's Gourmet Hamburgers

Name: Barney's Gourmet Hamburgers
Location: 1600 Shattuck Ave., Berkeley, CA 94709
Website: www.barneyshamburgers.com

Before I left for college, a family friend sent me a list of must-try eating establishments within the Berkeley campus bubble. One such place was Top Dog, an overrated but culturally embedded hot dog stand known for its late-night lines and thought-provoking wall clippings. Another was Zachary's Chicago Pizza Inc., whose uniqueness -- "toppings" are served below the tomato sauce -- is widely and unfortunately mistaken for superiority.

For no good reason at all, Barney's wasn't checked off until very late in the game. And that was an unforced error. Barney's, which now exists throughout the Bay Area as well as in Los Angeles, has earned dozens of awards for its burgers since opening in 1978. The menu there features an impressive variety of ingredients, which extends the visit simply because of the lengthy selection process at the beginning.

From the 27 options, I settled on the "Teriyaki Burger" ($8.50 not including fries). Its patty is topped with sauteed bell peppers, onions and mushrooms and brought together with a teriyaki glaze that is sure to drip from the bottom as it's eaten. Also on the plate are a few lettuce leaves, pickle strips, an orange slice and a tiny container of Thousand Island dressing. Which brings us to the all-important breakdown:

Teriyaki Burger at Barney's

The bun: It's nothing special, really -- a pair of pretty standard sesame seed saucers. However, it is important to note that this particular bun a) does not fall victim to the potentially hazardous wetness of the sauce and b) is thick and durable enough to contain the abundance of toppings. The bread, therefore, is not inherently outstanding but does its job in reserving the attention for the star actors performing between it.

The patty: It has been argued that a truly fantastic burger needs no decoration. To be sure, it's no easy task to assess the merits of meat when it's covered with fixings and sauce. Somehow, though, the strengths of this eight-ounce patty were not completely drowned out. The medium-well request was accurately addressed, and the blackened edges didn't mean that the rest of the ground chuck was dried out. Anyone who has used a grill a few times could probably duplicate it, but that shouldn't necessarily count against it.

The toppings: Without a doubt, they are what make the "Teriyaki Burger" so memorable. The green and red bell peppers were neither too slimy nor too crunchy; the onions were recognizable but not overwhelming; the mushrooms were portioned somewhat modestly so as not to dominate the congregation with their squishy texture. It was immediately evident that these piping hot additions, which spilled generously onto the plate, were cooked to order. Ultimately, the vegetable medley was the reason I chose this burger in the first place, and it's the reason I'll order it again when I return.

The sauce: This hamburger is proof that chicken shouldn't have a monopoly on teriyaki overtures. The sauce not only seeped gently into the meat and brought it to life, but it also orchestrated the fusion of the vegetables. It was not too sour, not too sweet, and, unlike many teriyaki glazes, not too salty. Perhaps most importantly, its presence didn't obstruct gustatory access to the other flavors of the meal.

The fries: The basket of sweet potato fries was empty by the time our burgers arrived. The slightly crispy orange sticks were excellent with ketchup, Thousand Island or with no condiments at all. Sweet potato fries are all the rage these days, and some restaurants have them on the menu simply to keep up with the trend. If that's the case with Barney's, I'd never know it.

The end: It seems somewhat surprising that the "Teriyaki Burger" is featured on the homepage of Barney's website, especially considering some of the restaurant's other offerings -- home-style guacamole, French baguettes, sun-dried-tomato pesto sauce and grilled zucchini. But perhaps the teriyaki-tinged creation is a fitting representation of Barney's as a whole. The experimentation, it seems, hasn't disrupted the production of good, solid hamburgers.