Hamburger America

by George Motz

The menu at the Hamburg Inn is enormous, offering every type of comfort food imaginable. Dave gradually expanded the menu over the decades and was responsible for adding a favorite breakfast item, the omelet. The burger takes center stage for lunch and dinner but it’s the omelet, served in unlimited combinations, that captivates the morning crowd. “We have a guy that comes in and orders a cream cheese, black olive, and raisin omelet,” Dave told me. “That’s about the weirdest combination we’ve made.” One of the restaurant’s most popular omelets contains, not surprisingly, a healthy dose of the Hamburg Inn’s ground beef. It’s called the “Zadar” and is named after a local movie that was filmed at the restaurant. With ground beef and American cheese, it’s basically a hamburger omelet. A great idea and probably the only one of its kind in America.

  While campaigning for the presidency, Obama stopped in but got an omelet to go (apparently it was early in the morning). The walls of the Hamburg Inn are covered with vintage photos and one wall is dedicated to American politics. There’s even a plaque over table #6 that trumpets a visit by former president Ronald Reagan. President Clinton visited as well, but has not been honored with a plaque (yet). I asked Dave where Clinton sat on his visit to the Hamburg Inn and he told me, “Just to the left of Reagan’s table.” The political humor was not lost on me.

  THE IRISH SHANTI

  17455 GUNDER RD | ELGIN, IA 52141

  563-864-9289 | WWW.THEGUNDERBURGER.COM

  MON–SAT 10 AM–10 PM | SUN 10 AM–7 PM

  If you find yourself eating a burger at the Irish Shanti, deep in the rolling farmland of northeast Iowa, it’s because you made a point of being there. “People come here to eat the burger,” son of the Shanti’s owner Hans Walsh told me, “or they are lost.” The town of Gunder, Iowa is barely on the map and the Irish Shanti, across from a defunct gas station, is the only business in town. Though remote, this destination restaurant manages to fill the dining room on most nights and suggests reservations on weekends. “People will drive for several hours to come here to eat,” Hans told me. Many of them are in search of a menu item that has made this corner of Iowa famous—the “Gunderburger.”

  The Irish Shanti has only been around in name since the mid-seventies but the building itself dates to 1929 when it opened as a grocery store. The restaurant has changed hands many times over the years and at one point the tiny town of Gunder was in danger of being literally wiped off the map. The unincorporated town, with a population barely in the double digits, was rescued by a grill cook at the Irish Shanti named LaVonne Christianson. In 1985, she had an idea to concoct a colossal burger for all to see and name it after the town. The plan worked and today Gunder remains on the map, and the enormous Gunderburger remains on the menu.

  Hans, the chef at the Irish Shanti, explained, “We weigh out a 20-ounce ball of fresh ground beef that cooks down to around 16 ounces.” A very large wad of beef is slapped on the flattop and pressed into a patty by hand. Hans sprinkles a bit of a “secret fairy dust” on the patty then drops a bacon weight on it. The burger cooks slowly over low heat on a griddle that has an excellent, dark patina. “We don’t aggressively clean it,” Hans said of the griddle.

  If you order a Loaded Gunderburger get ready to flex those jaw muscles. To the one-pound cheeseburger Hans adds lettuce, tomato, bacon, sautéed onions, and grilled mushrooms and he is not stingy. After construction, this burger weighs in at around one-and-a-half pounds.

  The appearance of the Loaded Gunderburger is part of its shock value. To say that the bun is disproportionate to the patty is an understatement. Hans purposely uses a standard-sized bun that does not stand a chance in holding back the burger’s contents. The patty and piles of condiments protrude cartoonishly from under the bun leaving the uninitiated with a challenge. I actually tried to heft the beast to my face only to find that the bottom half of the bun had virtually vanished into the copious juices. I ate the burger gripping the patty but eventually had to use a fork because stuff was falling everywhere. “The strategy I tell people is to go around the outside of the bun with a fork first,” Hans told me. The Gunderburger was a mess but well worth it. You’ll need a hose-down after this one.

  Kevin moved from his native Boston and left his job as a registered nurse to buy the restaurant in 2005 with his wife, Elsie. One of the first major changes he made was to add a sizeable kitchen. “It used to be here,” Kevin explained with his arms outstretched at the end of the bar. Kevin is Irish and this probably explains the proudly displayed Irish flag in the center of the dining room and the Guinness on tap.

  Start your meal with a retro appetizer, the relish tray. It’s a sort of midwestern version of the antipasto plate featuring ham salad, diced cheese, olives, carrots, and crackers. The Irish Shanti also serves fried cheese curds, one of my absolute favorite guilty pleasures available in this part of the country. Everything at the Shanti is made fresh in-house and most of the produce during the warmer months comes from their garden.

  So if you are rambling around northeast Iowa in search of nourishment seek out the Irish Shanti. Indulge in a few pints of Guinness, meet some great people, and eat the burger that saved a town.

  PAUL’S TAVERN

  176 LOCUST ST | DUBUQUE, IA 52001

  563-556-9944 | MON–SAT 8 AM–2 AM

  SUN 9 AM–2 AM

  There was a time in American tavern culture when the drink reigned supreme. Certain bartenders probably noticed the need to serve a modicum of edible nourishment to keep their customers from leaving for meals and the bartop grill was born. The foodservice at Paul’s is a vestige of this tavern past that holds a tiny footprint behind the bar. Although small, the bar kitchen at Paul’s still cranks out amazing burgers to comfortably buzzed patrons.

  I’ve heard people refer to Paul’s as a “dive,” and after my first visit I have to say that Paul’s is the cleanest dive I’ve ever set foot in. Somehow, this broken-in bar shows its age but maintains its gritty character without coming off as a dump. The place is filled with perfectly preserved vintage beer signs and the most amazing collection of taxidermy you’ll ever see while sipping a Miller High Life. The bears, bighorn sheep, deer, and alligators that line the walls were all hunted by former owner Paul Schollmeyer. The displays go beyond the traditional random, dusty deer head over the bar. The work that went into these displays is astounding and the taxidermist was clearly a master at the craft. Think Museum of Natural History in a bar setting. There are large, well-lit glass cases on either side of the bar and one that is actually mounted on the ceiling for effect. That case contains a massive polar bear, shot in 1966. Paul, who is now 83 and still visits the bar frequently, told me he bagged the polar bear years before restrictions were placed on hunting them. As I surveyed the impressive collection of mounted big game overhead Paul leaned and whispered to me, “I don’t mean to brag, but I can shoot.”

  The centerpiece of the tiny kitchen area at the end of the long bar is an ancient Norge Broilator. The thick, black stove is one of the more unique cooking apparatuses I’ve seen for burger making and clearly the precursor to the salamander broiler found in many professional kitchens. The most obvious difference in the Broilator is that the burgers cook on a small, well-seasoned flattop that can’t be more than 2 feet wide and only 1 foot deep. Burgers are slapped onto the tiny flattop and the operator pulls on a bar that simultaneously closes the door and sends the burgers up and into the center of the stove. The burgers then cook from above by indirect flame as they sizzle on the griddle. Totally unique.

  Though the cooking area inside the Broilator is limited, bar manager Dave explained, “It can cook eight at a time.” The burgers start as quarter-pound scooped balls of 90/10 fresh ground beef that are placed in a single patty press. “We use lean beef because anything too fatty and it’ll flare up and burn,” Dave told me. Soft white buns are warmed in a nearby toaster-oven and the burgers are served on tiny paper plates with pickles and a slice of raw onion. When I inquired about additional condiments Dave respo
nded gruffly, “No lettuce, tomato, or any of that stuff.” The burger at Paul’s is simplicity personified.

  Today the tavern is owned by a former manager from McDonald’s, Tom Koch, a friend of Paul’s who purchased the place in 1991. Paul actually approached Tom and asked him to take the reins, probably so that his big game collection would remain intact. “Everybody loves this place,” Tom told me. “I told Paul I’d try it for a year and [20 years later] I’m still here.” Tom’s brother, Dave, helps manage the tavern and his daughter, Amber, bartends and makes burgers. I believe the future of Paul’s is secure.

  As we polished off our fourth or fifth beers and finished our burgers, my wife, Casey, (the former vegetarian), surrounded by the taxidermy said, “Every bar in New York City wishes they were this cool.” It’s true. Paul’s Tavern is the real deal. Everything else is just trying to be Paul’s.

  TAYLOR’S MAID-RITE

  106 SOUTH 3RD AVE | MARSHALLTOWN, IA 50158

  641-753-9684 | WWW.MAIDRITE.COM

  MON–SAT 8 AM–10 PM | SUN 10 AM–10 PM

  Taylor’s does not serve hamburgers. Taylor’s serves a “loosemeats sandwich.” For those not familiar with the popular Iowa hamburger-influenced sandwich, a loosemeats, or Maid-Rite (and sometimes referred to as a “tavern”), is basically a deconstructed hamburger, or a Sloppy Joe without the slop. The recipe is simple: fresh ground-on-premises beef is steamed and crumbled in a cast-iron cooker. Nothing is added but salt. Upon getting an order, a member of the extended Taylor family or longtime employee grabs a bun that has been “doped” with pickle and mustard, and with the other hand scoops up an impossible amount of the pebbly, moist meat. That’s it, and there’s nothing else on the menu but shakes, ice cream, pie, and soft drinks, and they have been doing it this way since 1928. The order is wrapped up even if you are eating at the counter. “Wrapping makes the bun soft,” Zac told me. Zac is a fifth-generation Taylor proving that Taylor’s is clearly a family-run business.

  Cliff Taylor purchased the franchise for the third Maid-Rite in Iowa for $300 and called it Taylor’s. His son, Don Taylor, took over the business in 1944. In 1958, Taylor’s moved across the street into a new modern building, its current location. Cliff Taylor’s granddaughter, Sandy, remembers the move well. “We moved the entire contents of the restaurant overnight making trips back and forth across the street. I remember helping to carry the plates.” One element of the move that didn’t work out so well was the new steam cooker. “My dad thought the meat just didn’t taste right so he brought the cooker over from the old place,” Sandy told me. “This could be the same cooker from 1928,” Sandy said, pointing to the strange stainless cabinet with the deep, cast-iron trough.

  Taylor’s is a bright, clean, friendly place with floor-to-ceiling windows in the front of the restaurant. A large horseshoe counter surrounds a short-order kitchen that offers amazing views of your food being prepared. One wall of the restaurant is covered with enormous world and U.S. maps with the phrase above, “Go ’round the world, but come back again.”

  Unlike other Maid-Rites in the well-known Midwestern franchise, Taylor’s has kept things simple. The other Maid-Rites offer everything from roasted chicken and corn dogs to tacos. At Taylor’s, a loosemeats sandwich has always been the solitary sandwich on the short menu.

  The loosemeats sandwich may be some of the fastest food you’ll ever come across because the meat is already cooked and warm. An order can arrive at your spot at the counter in under a minute. Unwrap and sink your teeth into one of the softest, tastiest sandwiches around and you’ll start wondering why the rest of the country has not caught on yet.

  One time when I visited the Central Iowa eatery there was a debate going on about the proposed introduction of ketchup, not to the sandwich, but to the counter. The sign out front announced STOP IN VOTE YES OR NO FOR KETCHUP. The votes were tallied, and in August 2006, ketchup was introduced to the counter, 77 years after opening day.

  Sandy retired from a job as a schoolteacher in North Dakota only to return home and find herself drawn to Taylor’s. Her son, Don Taylor Short, was looking to move on after 20 years managing the popular loosemeats institution and Sandy agreed to jump in. “This is my retirement!” she told me laughing. She’s there every day and makes a point to warn customers about the pitfalls of the metal cup that holds your “extra” milkshake. “You need to stir it before you pour it,” she reminds me. “Someone dumps their shake on the counter everyday.”

  RECIPE FROM THE HAMBURGER AMERICA TEST KITCHEN

  THE BEER MAID-RITE SANDWICH

  This is an interpretation of the Iowa classic loosemeats sandwich. At Taylor’s Maid-Rite in Marshalltown, there are no secrets and their recipe is simple. They grind meat at the restaurant, add salt, and use a cast-iron steam cooker that has been in use for almost 80 years.

  MAKES 5 OR 6 SANDWICHES

  1 pound fresh ground 80/20 chuck

  5 pinches salt (to taste)

  1 cup beer

  3 squirts (teaspoons) yellow mustard

  6 white squishy buns

  Pickle slices

  Chopped onion

  More yellow mustard

  Place a heavy cast-iron skillet over medium heat to warm for five minutes. Turn heat to medium high and crumble the beef into the skillet. Add salt. Using the blade end of the spatula, chop the beef as it cooks until it is pebbly. When the beef loses most of its pink, add the beer and turn the heat up to high. Add the mustard as the beer begins to bubble and stir to mix contents. Cook over high heat, stirring constantly, until most of the liquid has evaporated. Scoop onto buns that have been “doped” with onion, pickle, and more mustard. Enjoy with the remaining beer.

  13

  KANSAS

  BOBO’S DRIVE IN

  2300 SW 10TH AVE | TOPEKA, KS 66604

  785-234-4511 | MON–SAT 11 AM–8 PM

  CLOSED SUNDAY

  Bobo’s is one of only a handful of original drive-ins in America still using carhops. That’s right, the ones who come to your car, take your order, then come back with food and clip a tray onto your car door. Sonic may have capitalized on the modern version of the drive-in, but there’s still nothing like an original one-of-a-kind like Bobo’s.

  At one point there were two Bobo’s Drive Ins in Topeka. The one remaining opened in 1953. The first location was opened just a few blocks away in 1948 by Orville and Louise Bobo. “Mrs. Bobo still comes in and buys pies two to three times a week,” Kim, a former carhop told me. Bobo’s is now owned by Richard Marsh who recently purchased the drive in from Bob Humes. He is only the third owner in the restaurant’s more than six decades in operation. Richard bought Bobo’s and all of the secret recipes in 2007 and kept everything pretty much the same.

  Bobo’s plays the part of the mid-century American road icon with a neon tower shooting out of its roof and a large arrow pointing the way. There are twelve stalls for cars and two carhops during the day running orders and food back and forth from the kitchen to waiting drivers. You can see why so many fast-food restaurants moved to the economical drive-thru; the drive-in is without question a lot more work.

  The burgers at Bobo’s are excellent. They start as fresh ground 85 percent lean one-eight-hounce patties and are cooked on a superhot flattop griddle, pressed flat. “You don’t always get a perfect circle,” grill cook Robert admitted. The thin patty is sprinkled with salt and pepper, then griddled until crunchy on the outside but perfectly moist inside.

  A strange burger creation proprietary to Bobo’s competes equally with their flavorful double cheeseburger—the “Spanish Burger.” What’s on the Spanish? “Spanish sauce,” Jonette told me bluntly. Turns out, the Spanish sauce is a tangy, sweet tomato sauce. Just then, someone sat down and ordered one. “You see? We sell as many of them as cheeseburgers.”

  Not to be missed are the onion rings. I mean it when I say that these were probably the best I’ve ever eaten. I still think about that inviting pile of not-too-greasy gnarled, deep-fried
onions. I couldn’t stop eating them. Homemade root beer is also a draw.

  Jonette knows just about everyone who drives up or walks in the door. “For a lot of people who pull in here,” Jonette said, “we can have their order on the grill before they even tell us.” Now there’s a perk that could lure you to Topeka.

  COZY INN HAMBURGERS

  108 NORTH 7TH ST | SALINA, KS 67401

  785-825-2699 | WWW.COZYBURGER.COM

  SUN 11 AM–8 PM | MON–SAT 10 AM–9 PM

  The Cozy Inn is a classic well-preserved hamburger stand built in 1922 in Salina, Kansas. Not surprisingly, the Cozy, with its six white-painted steel stools and short counter, was modeled after the successful White Castle hamburger chain. In 1921, only one year earlier in nearby Wichita, a man named Walt Anderson had opened the first White Castle: it was to become the first hamburger chain in America. In the next few years the White Castle model, a clean, small stand serving wholesome burgers, would be copied by entrepreneurs all over the country. The secret ingredient to White Castle’s success was chopped onions that, when cooked with the burger, created an intoxicating smell that drew customers from near and far. Bob Kinkel, an amateur baseball player from Salina, liked what he saw (and smelled) and immediately opened the Cozy Inn.

  On one of my visits to Cozy, a woman sitting at the counter named Phyllis told me, “My father built this place for Bob—$500 turnkey.” This would have been a bargain even by 1922 standards, with the possible exception that the place is incredibly small. It takes only a few people to fill up the low-ceilinged burger joint, so understandably, a line builds quickly outside at lunchtime.