When a restaurant opts for cutesy—or, in this case, emphasizes the lowly condiment in its name—you worry a bit. There’s a misplaced conceit at work here, obviously. Ketchup Burger Bar seems proud of its sauces, but the house version merely sends star anise-like fissures across the palate. Their “spiced” ketchup rends the tomato-vinegar mix with a dry roasted flavor, while the honeyed mix carries a heavy sweetness. Interpretations of the purposeful sauce are all rather uncomplicated, maybe even annoying—in the way that the simplistic repetition behind Born in the USA or Tears in Heaven are annoying.

Fortunately, Ketchup Burger Bar’s sandwiches (like the lyrics to both hits) make you forget the one-dimensional condiments. The “Roadhouse Burger,” for example, stacks gruyère, onion rings, and rather forceful cherrywood-smoked bacon on the patty. Overall, there’s little really daring about Ketchup, other than a $7 hot dog and the option of adding ground beef or lamb to any salad. But the narrow restaurant doesn’t lay claim to innovation, just decent, everyday sandwiches.

Despite modest ambitions, there’s one serious downside. Simply put, whoever approved the final product should be prosecuted for worse-than-Ore-Ida fries. So unless you believe dumping truffle oil and shaved parmesan turns “bad” into “OMG awesome,” order the zucchini version instead.