Hamburger America

by George Motz

  Following the rules for ordering is important. Start by grabbing a tray and getting in line. Everyone gets a tray because, as Rich pointed out, “It keeps the tables clean when we’re busy.” Then grab a drink and order your fried food of choice first. French fries and onion rings are offered, but skip the usual for excellent deep-fried vegetables like mushrooms and cauliflower. Next, order your burger, but hold your cheese selection until the end of the process. Follow the rules and be rewarded with one of the best burgers in America.

  A group of healthy-looking sixty somethings were enjoying their burgers the last time I visited and told me, “This is where we celebrate our birthdays. We’ve been coming here for over 50 years.” When one of the grill guys, Skinny, heard that, he blurted out, “And they STILL don’t know how to order their burgers.”

  MILLER’S BAR

  23700 MICHIGAN AVE | DEARBORN, MI 48124

  313-565-2577 | WWW.MILLERSBAR.COM

  MON–SAT 11 AM–12:30 AM | CLOSED SUNDAY

  The first time I visited Miller’s it was in the middle of a torrential springtime downpour. It was 11:15 a.m. on a Wednesday, the bar was packed and everyone was eating hamburgers. Doesn’t that pretty much say it all?

  Miller’s is on a commercial stretch, six lanes wide, in Dearborn, Michigan. Across the street from a large Ford dealership, the windowless bar is painted with a fresh coat of red paint and emblazoned with enormous white letters spelling out the name of this nearly 70-year-old institution. Despite the cool functionality of the exterior, the interior, with its original 1940s Brunswick bar of undulating high-gloss wood and booths made of supple deep-red leather, feels more like a long-lost private men’s club than the bunker that the outside evokes. The immaculate well-preserved dining room is dark and cozy and, according to part-owner Mark Miller, has not needed renovation since 1964.

  There is no menu at Miller’s but the options are simple—burgers, fries, and onion rings are available, as are tuna, ham, and corned beef sandwiches and of course, drinks from the bar. The clientele is mostly local devotees and regulars from the nearby world headquarters of the Ford Motor Company. They come for the burgers and have been since 1941, when Mark’s uncle, George Miller, opened the bar. Today, thanks to topping many “Best-of” lists in America, Miller’s Bar sells over 1,200 burgers a day. Every one of those burgers is cooked on a griddle next to the bar that is no more than three feet square.

  “Our butcher starts grinding beef for us at 4 a.m. everyday,” Mark told me. Mark owns the bar with his brother, Dennis, and the two are second-generation owners. The Miller’s father Russell bought the bar from his brother George in 1947.

  The sprightly grill cook, Kim, who has been flipping burgers at Miller’s for over 20 years, is responsible for griddling the hundreds of perfect, award-winning burgers during the lunch rush. I overheard her take an order for a few burgers “well-done.” Well-done? “Oh gosh yes,” she sighed, “People don’t know how to order their burgers here.” Mark told me he won’t eat anything over a medium, and rightly so, because Miller’s meat is some of the freshest I’ve ever tasted.

  The Millers have been using the same butcher for over 40 years. The bar used to get a 400-pound delivery daily of fresh ground beef that would have to be hand pattied by the kitchen staff. “It got to be too much,” Kim told me, so the butcher offered to start delivering preformed patties. Knowing that the Millers wouldn’t accept just any patty, he employs a special patty maker that injects a blast of air back into the beef. “It makes the patty looser,” Mark explained, “and it has an almost hand-pattied feel.”

  The seven-ounce burger is served on a steamed white bun and delivered to you on a square of wax paper. Lettuce and tomato are not offered. Swiss or Velveeta are available, as are the standard condiments like ketchup, mustard, pickle, and sliced onion. But this burger needs no embellishment—so forgo the condiments. The meat is so good you could eat it plain. I asked what it was that made the burger taste so great and Mark told me, “It’s the meat. The meat is great. There are no seasonings and we have no secrets.”

  The secret may be in longevity. The staff is great and many have been with Miller’s forever. The day-shift bartender, Jeff, has been pouring drinks for almost 30 years and a waitress named Linda has been delivering burgers at Miller’s since Nixon was in office. The secret may also be in the Miller brothers commitment to the family business. Every Sunday, when the bar is closed, Mark and Dennis take apart the entire kitchen and grill area for a thorough cleansing. Mark told me, “We completely disassemble the griddle, dishwasher . . . everything.” What did you do last Sunday?

  MOTZ’S HAMBURGERS

  7208 WEST FORT ST | DETROIT, MI 48209

  313-843-9186 | MON–FRI 9 AM–6 PM

  SAT 10 AM–5 PM

  If I told you that when I first arrived at Motz’s Burgers I ran into the place with unbridled enthusiasm I’d be lying. On my first visit to the vintage burger joint that shared my name, needless to say, I was very nervous. What if the burgers were crap? What if this tiny ex-White Castle, nestled in an industrial wasteland on the outskirts of downtown Detroit, was a washed-up version of its former self? How would I explain that this perfect little burger joint was a bust?

  The first five minutes inside Motz’s Burgers was a complete blur. I quickly spotted the griddle and a cook smashing balls of fresh meat, and noted the glorious smell of onions that filled the little diner. There were a few stools and a counter and people walking off with paper bags full of steaming sliders. The scene was right out of a Depression-era FSA black-and-white photo. I had stumbled into hamburger nirvana and I was beyond relieved.

  Even though we share a name, the pronunciation differs. Originally, the restaurant was called “Motts Burgers,” named after the man that scooped up a handful of Detroit-area White Castles that were being sold to offset the financial strain of the Great Depression. Motts purchased a few in the ’30s and put family members in charge of each one. Robert Motts, the son of the original owner, decided to sell the West Fort Street location in 1996 to current owners Bob and Mary Milosavljeveski. Bob had just left his father’s 36-year-old local bakery and was searching for something new. Motts asked Bob to change the name since there was another Motts Burger still in operation down the street. Bob chose to replace the t’s with a z, thus making my visit to the place destiny.

  Bob’s wife, Mary, makes change and takes orders at the counter while grill cook of 20 years Tammy (from the Motts days) flips burgers. At one point during my conversation with Bob, Tammy leaned over and audibly whispered to him, “Did you tell him the secret ingredient?” A pregnant pause followed and I was compelled to blurt out, “What is it?” “Love,” Tammy told me with a straight face. “Love is the secret ingredient. If you don’t love what you are doing, it ain’t gonna taste good.”

  The burgers basically come in three sizes—a single, a double, and a “King Motz,” which is a triple. “Motts said ‘keep the burgers the same’ and he was right,” Bob told me at the counter during the busy lunch rush. The burgers at Motz’s are really oversized sliders but cooked the exact same way a place like White Castle would have done it over 80 years earlier. Bob picks up fresh ground beef for the restaurant every morning. A rolled ball of 88/12 chuck and rump round mixture is tossed on the flattop behind the counter and pressed flat with a spatula. A handful of thinly sliced Spanish onion is sprinkled on top that softens and intermingles with the patty once it’s flipped. The result is, well, the burger that I make at home—the purest form of the American hamburger that I know of. An original Motz Slider is served on white squishy bun with mustard, ketchup, and pickles and is very tasty. Although I prefer my burgers without ketchup, I gave in to tradition and was pleasantly surprised.

  When Bob and Mary bought the place in 1996, it was a dilapidated relic. “The place was a dump,” Bob said with conviction and explained how he gave the interior a major facelift without destroying the integrity of the place. “We moved the griddle but kept it in
sight.” Bob explained, “Places like this will never die out because you can see the cook, see the meat.”

  The neighborhood surrounding Motz’s Burgers ain’t pretty. The only other visible sign of life is the enormous Detroit Produce Terminal directly across the street. Truckers and employees from the Terminal make up the bulk of business. “That’s the only reason we are surviving,” Bob told me. At one time in this neighborhood’s history, West Fort Street was lined with factories and bars and this burger joint probably fit in perfectly. The fact that this national treasure is still standing and serving great burgers is an absolute miracle. I wondered why Bob and Mary would take a chance in a neighborhood like this but I got my answer. “If it has survived 80 years, it’ll be around for a while.”

  REDAMAK’S

  616 EAST BUFFALO ST | NEW BUFFALO, MI 49117

  269-469-4522 | WWW.REDAMAKS.COM

  MON–SAT NOON–10:30 PM | SUN NOON–10 PM

  CLOSED IN WINTER

  Redamak’s is a burger destination. Vacationers come from miles around for a weekend at Lake Michigan and most visit Redamak’s for nourishment. George and Gladys Redamak opened a tiny mom-and-pop burger restaurant in the late 1940s. In 1975 the Maroney family bought the restaurant from Gladys, with the stipulation that they keep it the same. It didn’t really turn out that way, though—they actually made it better.

  Redamak’s is enormous. Years of expansion and updating to the structure have created a profoundly successful restaurant that can comfortably seat 400. Crowd control is aided by two sets of double doors at the front—one marked ENTER, the other EXIT. If you have kids, you won’t be alone here—kids and families populate the place. There are two separate video arcades and a sizable kids’ menu. If you need a drink, there’s a bar right in the center of it all. And of course, if you need a burger, Redamak’s makes one of the best in the country.

  The menu is round, the size of a large pizza, and has more text on it than the front page of the Chicago Tribune. You won’t believe the options you’ll have. Everything from corn dogs to clam strips is offered, along with seven different types of French fries. There’s even lake perch on Fridays. The endless selection of lakefront comfort food can’t disguise the fact that the burgers are the star attraction here. The menu proudly proclaims the Redamak’s burger is “The Burger That Made New Buffalo Famous.”

  Fresh Iowa beef chuck steaks are ground in the kitchen for the six-ounce burgers at Redamak’s. Manager Matt told me, “They are grinding all of the time back there.” They have to keep grinding because the kitchen cranks out over 2,500 fresh patties a day. “We are going to break our record again this year,” Charles Maroney pointed out. In 2010 Redamak’s ground over 135,000 pounds of chuck steaks for burgers, which is amazing for a restaurant that’s only open eight months of the year. What’s even more baffling is the method by which this astounding number of burgers is cooked every day—each one is cooked in a pan by itself. This sounds impossible, but I saw it with my own eyes. There must have been five stovetops lined up, 30 burners in all. On each burner, a single skillet. In each pan, only a few burgers. “We do it that way to keep the juices with the burger,” Charles told me, “On a griddle, those juices dissipate.” Charles also pointed out that, along with their use of Velveeta cheese, the Maroney family is committed to doing things the way the Redamaks did for so many successful years.

  Tomato and lettuce are not offered with a Redamak’s burger. “Redamak’s started as a tavern and there was no place for lettuce and tomato in bar food,” Charles told me. Again, a tradition the restaurant holds dear. A burger with everything comes with ketchup, mustard, pickles, a slice of raw onion, and melted Velveeta. Don’t panic. The oldest and most venerable burger destination in America, Louis’ Lunch of New Haven, also indulges in the yellow stuff. Besides, it tastes good.

  Bring the family, bring your friends, bring everyone you know—Redamak’s can handle the crowds with ease. You’ll probably have to wait, so go to the video arcade or browse the merchandise at the front. It might be the only place in America where you can buy a souvenir yo-yo in the shape of a hamburger.

  18

  MINNESOTA

  CONVENTION GRILL

  3912 SUNNYSIDE RD | EDINA, MN 55424

  952-920-6881 | MON–THU, SUN 11 AM–10 PM

  FRI & SAT 11 AM–11 PM

  There are times when a diner looks vintage inside and out but the menu and ownership fail to live up to its historical roots. The Convention Grill, a Twin Cities institution, looks the part as you first step in off the street, almost too much so. The original tiled floor, the red leather swivel stools, the off-white patina to the walls, and the griddle behind the counter all look too good to be true. The waitstaff, scurrying around in pressed white uniforms with white shoes, makes you feel like you’ve just stepped into a period film from the ’30s. The good news is it’s not all show. The Convention Grill is a perfectly preserved time capsule from diner culture of the early twentieth century. The burgers at Convention Grill stand up to the image, and the whole package makes for a genuine, throwback hamburger experience.

  The Convention Grill opened in 1934, built by a diner fabrication company that had planned to start a chain. When the company struggled, a Greek immigrant named Peter Santrizos took the Edina location off the company’s hands for paltry $75. Peter ran Convention Grill until Twin Cities restaurateur John Rimarcik came along in 1974 and bought the iconic burger counter from Peter. John, at the age of 34, already the owner of several area restaurants, saw amazing potential in the Convention. He also knew that by changing anything he would destroy the ethos of the place. John has worked in the restaurant business since he was 12 years old, loves hamburgers, and clearly also has a soft spot for the classic American diner.

  The only major change visible at the 76-year-old diner is the expansion to the dining room. In the late ’80s, and again in the early ’90s, John purchased the neighboring beauty salon and barbershop, greatly increasing his seating capacity. The additions lack the genuine feel of the original section of the diner but most regulars don’t seem to care.

  The burgers are cooked on a flattop in plain view of anyone seated at the curved counter. The Convention Grill uses fresh ground 80/20 Angus beef that is hand-pattied daily to around a quarter-pound. The burgers are basic because John believes that when you stray from the simplicity of an all-American burger you end up with, as he put it, “Something else.” Stick with the cheeseburger and you can’t go wrong. The Convention offers Swiss, American, Muenster, and an amazing smoky cheddar cheese and standard condiments like tomato, lettuce, and bacon.

  There’s a very curious burger on the menu at the Convention that I had been warned about—the “Plazaburger,” served on a dark bun with a dollop of sour cream, chives, and chopped onions. In all my travels I had indeed come across the actual Plazaburger at the Plaza Tavern in Madison, Wisconsin, and right there on the menu, the Convention was giving credit to this University of Wisconsin staple. “It was suggested to me years ago by a regular named Dudley Riggs,” John explained. Dudley told John that he ought to have the burger on the menu. “It sounded despicable,” John told me, “but I put it on there out of respect for him and it became our biggest seller.” Years later, John went to the actual Plaza Tavern to try the burger that made it to his menu. “Theirs was the furthest thing from what had been described to me, and ours was better.” Thanks to a healthy dose of the telephone game the two burgers have very little in common. I know how tight-lipped Plaza Tavern owner Dean Hetue is about the recipe for his secret sauce and was actually happy to find that the code had not been cracked.

  A large chunk of the menu at the Convention Grill is dedicated to ice cream and drinks. Indulge in a malted milk, the Convention’s vernacular for a milkshake. They come ridiculously thick and with the steel cup it was mixed in. Or get a phosphate, the old-time terminology for soda water with flavors mixed in. The Convention offers cherry and lime phosphates, and they are pleasantly refreshi
ng.

  We should all be glad a guy like John Rimarcik owns the Convention Grill. He told me, in complete seriousness, “I love hamburgers and we take pride in serving them here.” John explained that the name of the restaurant came from a “meeting place” or “a place for people to get together and have fun.” Considering the Convention Grill’s legacy its meaning is probably even deeper today.

  GORDY’S HI-HAT

  411 SUNNYSIDE DR | CLOQUET, MN 55720

  218-879-6125 | WWW.GORDYS-HIHAT.COM

  OPEN MID-MARCH TO MID-SEPTEMBER

  OPEN DAILY 10 AM–8:30 PM

  “We are the real deal drive-in,” Gordy’s owner Dan Lunquist said with confidence. “You won’t find burgers with fancy stuff on them here.” And you won’t, because nothing has changed since what Dan’s father Gordy refers to as the “good old days”—fifty-some years ago when the drive-in first opened. “Consistency is the key,” Dan told me, and he was serious. Pretty much, the burger you ate there years ago will be no different than the one you’ll get today.

  Gordy and Marilyn

  Gordy’s is a destination burger stand. “Forty percent of our business comes from people from Minneapolis stopping on the way to their lake cabins,” Dan explained. Gordy’s is just off I-35, the main artery connecting the Twin Cities to Duluth. “They get in a pattern of stopping here.” And they do. During the six warm months that Gordy’s is open, the restaurant will serve up to 2,000 burgers a day. That’s pretty impressive for a place that’s not in or near a major metropolis.