I sat on the West Village townhouse stoop and enjoyed the day, enjoyed the sight of the staff puttering around setting up, glared at the people with reservations who we in line agreed were “line cutters.” When the host began seating people around 3:45 p.m., she told me that I was the first single walk-in and would therefore enjoy the one table by the door that they reserve for such parties. And so together we unhinged our jaws and ate the 10-ounce double wagyu smash burger with thick slabs of bacon, his with an egg, and together we poured the beef jus over the pink center of the titular 4 Charles Cut and expressed our unexpected delight with the horseradish cream accoutrement.