by George Motz
When the doors open at 11 a.m. at the Penguin, people pour in. On most days, especially weekends, the seats are filled within 30 seconds and stay that way through lunch with a wait for a table before noon not uncommon.
The first time I visited, I sat at the bar and watched as longtime manager Rhyne Franklin unlocked the front door for lunch. At the same time the door swung open, a tattooed server named B-Mac flicked on the jukebox and out came the punk classic, “Sonic Reducer,” at a decent volume. The Penguin went from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds and the first customer through the door was a gray-haired woman with a cane in a powder-blue suit. She was followed by a couple of guys with ties and a handful of other younger locals. I was shocked by the varied demographic and Rhyne just shrugged and said, “That’s lunch.” Everyone is welcome at the Penguin.
The Penguin opened in the early 1950s, first as an ice cream stand and then in 1954 as a drive-in with carhops, burgers, and fries. The neighborhood went into decline in the 1970s and the Penguin became a biker bar. “It was a complete hole in the wall,” Rhyne told me. In 2000, two friends, Brian Rowe and Jimmy King, bought the business from Jim Ballentine and spent months renovating the place. Ballentine retained the rights to the Penguin name and ownership of the property. Brian and Jimmy kept the overall integrity of the place intact and brought in chef Greg Auten to help them develop straightforward fare for the revamped menu. When they opened, the Penguin was reborn in a neighborhood that was on the rebound. The timing was perfect.
The burgers come in three basic sizes at the Penguin, the “Small Block,” the “Big Block,” and the “Full Blown Hemi.” The names are probably a nod to NASCAR since the Charlotte area is where most of the race teams call home. The Small Block is a one-third-pound burger, the Big Block two one-third-pound patties, and the Hemi is a ridiculous three stacked one-third-pound patties. “Most people get the Small Block,” Rhyne told me, and for good reason—it’s a totally satisfying burger, and just the right size, especially if you plan on indulging in the Penguin’s famous fried pickles. The Big Block uses the same sized bun, but the contents tend to slip and slide. The Full Blown Hemi is just a colossal mess, but a damned tasty one. “A lot of people ask for a knife and fork for the Hemi,” Rhyne laughed, and B-Mac pointed out, “We really only sell one or two Hemis a day.”
How do you want your burger? At the Penguin, the options are “all the way” (lettuce, tomato, onion, mayo, and pickles) or “Southern Style” (chili, mustard, onions, and cole slaw). Southern Style is the way to go because you can get lettuce and tomato anywhere. The chili that the Penguin uses is made in-house and is simple, beefy, and spicy. The coleslaw is also made at the Penguin and is shredded impossibly thin. You can get American cheese on your burger but the pimento cheese at the Penguin is incredible.
The Big Block with pimento cheese
The burgers are cooked on a flattop and start as portioned wads of fresh ground chuck. The grillperson takes a wad, tosses it onto the griddle, and presses it into the shape of a burger. They are obviously not over-pressed because the resulting burger is very juicy.
The entire staff is young, energetic, and mostly tattooed. The tone at the Penguin was set by Jimmy and Brian, both ex-military, and both tattoo-covered themselves. Jimmy is a big fan of punk music and the jukebox reflects this. At first glance you’ll see a bunch of Elvis and Johnny Cash in there, but check out the black folder to the left of the juke. It’s loaded with hundreds of punk and hard rock tunes.
At the time of this publication, the Ballentine Family had no plans to renew Jimmy and Brian’s lease, effectively pushing out the two guys that saved an icon and turned the Penguin into a destination burger joint. There’s no guarantee that the soul of the Penguin will remain, but when your restaurant fills up within 30 seconds of opening your doors, you’d be a fool to change anything.
SNAPPY LUNCH
125 NORTH MAIN ST | MOUNT AIRY, NC 27030
336-786-4931 | MON–WED & FRI 6 AM–1:45 PM
THU & SAT 6 AM–1:15 PM | CLOSED SUNDAY
The Snappy Lunch sells one of the best pork chop sandwiches in America and it is “World Famous” according to the menu. But this is a hamburger book, and the restaurant does its part to offer a bit of hamburger history as well. Popular with the locals, the Snappy Lunch sells a curiosity called the “Breaded Hamburger.” Sometimes referred to as the “No-Burger” or the “old fashioned,” this throwback to the Depression was invented when meat was scarce. At the Snappy Lunch, the breaded burger still outsells the regular burger on the menu three to one.
“I don’t even get into it with out-of-towners,” said Mary Dowell, wife of longtime owner and local food celebrity Charles Dowell. “I don’t even like them!” she told me with a smile. I tried my first Depression-era burger at the Snappy Lunch and really liked it. It kind of resembled a bland crab cake with ground beef inside. “What do ya think?” Mary asked. I told her it tasted like a biscuit and she informed me that I had named the main ingredient.
The breaded burger, referred to as just a “hamburger” by the staff (a nonbreaded burger is a “burger with meat”) starts as a blend of ground beef, crumbled cooked biscuits, and day-old bread. The blend, which leans mostly toward bread, is then formed into patties and cooked on the flattop griddle. A finished burger “all the way” has on it coleslaw, mustard, onion, tomato, and chili.
The chili, a tasty, sweet, and chunky concoction, is ladled onto both the pork chop sandwich and the burgers. It was created by Charles in the 1950s by accident. “I was trying to make up something to put on the pork chops—the recipe has not changed since then and everyone wants it.”
Charles was a fixture at the Snappy Lunch since 1943 when, at age 15, he was paid $10 a week. Eight years later his father, a local grocer, helped Charles negotiate the purchase of a share in the restaurant and in 1960 he became the sole owner.
The name Snappy is fitting for the turn-of-the-century post office turned lunch counter because the doors close most days at 1:45 p.m. Oddly on Thursday closing time is 1:15 p.m. “As part of the war effort,” Charles told me, “restaurants were asked to choose a day to close early.”
Mary and Charles met over twenty years ago when someone tried to set her up with Charles’s son at the restaurant. Charles, now in his early 80s, is retired and Mary holds down the fort at Snappy Lunch.
In the recently renovated, gleaming kitchen at the rear of the restaurant, I met 16-year veteran cook, Diane. “I never thought a breaded burger could out sell the regular burger, but they do, every day.”
Mount Airy, North Carolina, exists in the minds of The Andy Griffith Show fans as the inspiration for Mayberry, the setting of the popular 1960s TV show. Not only did Andy grow up in Mount Airy, he also ate at the Snappy Lunch frequently as a child. Because of this, and his massive fan base, you may want to avoid the restaurant in late September when thousands descend on the small country town for Mayberry Days. Diane told me “We’ll actually stay open late those days just to make sure all those people are fed.”
SOUTH 21 DRIVE-IN
3101 EAST INDEPENDENCE BLVD
CHARLOTTE, NC 28205
704-377-4509 | WWW.SOUTH21DRIVEIN.COM
TUE 11 AM–3 PM | WED & THU 11 AM–9 PM
FRI & SAT 11 AM–10 PM | CLOSED SUN & MON
Traveling along Independence Boulevard just east of downtown Charlotte, NC, you’ll notice a vintage red neon sign that blinks with the words “curb service” and beckons you to pull in and float back in time. Slip into one of the many stalls, check out the menu, and push the order button. You are on your way to a classic South 21 Drive-In experience.
Since 1959, very little has changed at this Charlotte institution. Owned by the same family of Greek immigrants since the beginning, South 21 serves the same fresh, thin-patty burger that has come from the same local meat supplier for over 45 years. In 1955, George Copsis and his two brothers decided to open a drive-in on South Boulevard in Charlotte. The business boomed and the
brothers opened another nearby in 1959. They leased the original location and made the Independence location their flagship. Over the years, the family would open and sell off other drive-ins across town, but offspring Maria and her husband, George Housiadas, have held on to the flagship icon.
You’ve heard the story before but it bears repeating—Greeks in the hamburger business. The Housiadas family is not alone. Many proud Greek families still own classic burger stands across America, namely the famous mini-chains of the Billy Goat of Chicago, Burger House of Dallas, and Crown Burger of Salt Lake City. Or the one-offs like Helvetia Tavern near Portland, Oregon, and Western Steakburger in San Diego. All of these restaurants were the result of hard-working Greeks finding their way in America.
Not surprisingly, most stories of Greek burger entrepreneurism in this country start the same way. “They came here with nothing,” Maria told me. “They didn’t know what else to do so they started flipping burgers and didn’t stop!” She told me that in the beginning the brothers would sell a few burgers, take the cash, run down the street to the Winn-Dixie supermarket, and buy another few pounds of ground beef. “Can you imagine if we did that today?” Maria pondered.
South 21 is the real deal. Expect carhops, window trays, and tasty, classic burgers. The burgers start as preformed fresh-ground four-ounce patties and can be ordered as singles or doubles. Make it a “Super Boy” and you will get two patties on a toasted white bun with chopped lettuce, onion, mustard, and tomato. If you want cheese, you’ll need to order the “Jumbo.” The burgers show up on your window tray with a large pickle speared to the top bun.
The fries at South 21 are great, but it’s the onion rings that have received decades of accolades. The kitchen at South 21 slices and breads fresh onion rings daily, tasty circles of deep fried goodness.
You’ll also notice an item on the menu that sounds almost cartoonish but is anything but—the “Fish-O-Burger.” Imagine two pieces of fresh (not frozen) lightly breaded and deep-fried trout served with tartar sauce on a toasted white bun. It’s a heavenly sandwich, especially for those who want to partake of the drive-in culture without the red meat.
One thing you may find odd about South 21 is the black fedora your carhop will be wearing as he clips the tray to your car window. It was part of a uniform that was retired about 20 years ago according to Maria. “The uniforms used to be absolutely ridiculous.” For years, carhops were required to wear what looked like a period carriage driver’s getup—a long red coat with two gold buttons and heavy black pants. “They looked nice,” Maria remembered, “but the carhops hated to wear them. The heavy material was really only comfortable in the three colder months of the year.”
South 21 still employs a hard-working staff of four; some have been at the drive-in for over 40 years. One of those is Nick, the Greek griddle master who has been flipping perfect patties at South 21 since 1971.
Late-night cruising is a thing of the past, as the last burgers are sold at 10 p.m. on weekends. Check the drive-in’s hours before you head out to South 21 to show off your ’66 Corvette Stingray.
Maria is at the drive-in every day to take orders and manage the staff. She seems confident in the quality of their fare and understands why people continue to patronize South 21. “Diehard fans tell people, ‘If you haven’t eaten there, you haven’t eaten.’”
WHAT-A-BURGER DRIVE-IN
210 SOUTH MAIN ST | MOORESVILLE, NC 28115
704-664-5455
(4 OTHER LOCATIONS IN KANNAPOLIS AND CONCORD, NC)
MON–SAT 11 AM–10 AM
This is not the well-known Texas burger chain you are thinking of. In fact, this What-A-Burger actually opened in 1950 in Virginia, the same year as the 700-store Whataburger chain, but both owners were unaware of the existence of the other. After a lawsuit brought more than 50 years later, the two chains agreed that they would not expand into each other’s territory and that was that. Today, the Texas based burger chain has expanded into eight states and Mexico but has stayed away from North Carolina and Virginia where a handful of What-A-Burgers still exist.
Eb Bost opened the first What-A-Burger in North Carolina in 1955. At one point, through the ownership of many members of the Bost family, there were up to fifteen locations in the Charlotte area. Today, Eb’s son Mike Bost is the president of the company and there are now five locations that still retain their original number in the chain (for example, the Mooresville location is still called No. 11). Some of the locations still offer curb service.
Built in 1965, the What-A-Burger of Mooresville is an authentic artifact of the drive-in era that sits just south of the main drag. Twenty-eight curb service stalls sit under a retro corrugated shelter and the dining room inside can hold up to a hundred hungry burger lovers.
The burgers at What-A-Burger are very wide, cooked on a flattop, and are made from fresh-ground beef. “The patties come in every morning from a butcher in town,” employee of 25 years Diane told me. They are served on soft white buns that have been toasted on a large press. The thin patty and the squashed, toasted bun make for a very flat but satisfying burger. If you are hungry, go for the “Double What-A-Burger.” Priced at under 4 dollars this half-pound burger could be the best deal going. There’s also a kid-sized What-A-Burger, a smaller version of the original.
You’d have to be a local to understand the baffling burger combinations that What-A-Burger offers. The signature “What-A-Burger” comes with shredded lettuce, sliced tomato, mustard, and onion. The “What-A-Cheeseburger” adds cheese, but mysteriously takes away the mustard. The “What-A-Salisbury” has no mustard, either, and no cheese and, follow me here, the “What-A-Hamburger” comes Southern Style with mustard, coleslaw, and chili. In reality, you can get a burger any way you want it. Just ask.
On my first visit I was compelled to order a crazy sounding drink on the menu called the “Witch Doctor.” When I asked what was in the drink, through the muffled vintage drive-in speakerphone, I could not make out what the kitchen was telling me. All I could hear was, “Wah, wah waah, wah waaah.” When the drink appeared at my car I took a sip and tasted cherry and lime soda, and something savory. Then I opened the lid of the Styrofoam cup to find a wedge of lemon and three pickle slices floating in ice. The Witch Doctor, a drink that goes back five decades at What-A-Burger, is made by filling a cup with a little bit from each soda on the fountain. “There used to be a raw onion ring in there too,” Employee Jeff told me, and Diane added, “Some people still ask for the onion. Yuck.” Mike Bost told me, “The customers dreamed that one up a long time ago.” The drink was amazing with a flavor that was complex and refreshing. Just don’t make the mistake I made and take a sip hours later after the ice had melted and the pickles had marinated.
The Witch Doctor is a great drink, but the bestseller at What-A-Burger is the “Cherry-Lemon Sundrop.” It’s so popular that Mike told me, “If we couldn’t sell those and burgers I think we’d go out of business.”
Each curb stall is set up in twos and you’ll need to follow curb service etiquette to park correctly. Imagine two gas pumps and you’ll get the idea. In a row of two curb stalls, pull through to the second one so that someone can pull in behind you. I did not do this the first time I visited and received some quizzical looks from regulars.
For many years the curb service at the Mooresville location was not up and running. A lack of qualified carhops led Mike to shut down the talkback speakers and send all of the business indoors. But after pressure from regulars, three years ago the curb service returned. Thanks to that pressure you can now enjoy your What-A-Burger and Witch Doctor curbside.
28
OHIO
CRABILL’S HAMBURGERS
727 MIAMI ST | URBANA, OH 43078
937-653-5133 | MON–FRI 10 AM–6:30 PM
SAT 10 AM–5 PM | CLOSED SUNDAY
Crabill’s is very, very small. What’s amazing is that the original Crabill’s was much smaller. Eight stools sit bolted to the floor at a small counte
r and there is barely enough room to pass behind them. “The old place was five times smaller,” grill cook Andy Hiltibran told me. Andy is married to third-generation owner Marsha Crabill, the granddaughter of Forest Crabill, who opened this heartland burger stand nearly 100 years ago.
Crabill’s started as a hamburger counter in picturesque downtown Urbana. It’s the sort of town that Norman Rockwell would have painted in his depiction of everyday life in mid-twentieth century America. Two men, Crabill and Carpenter, opened the minuscule six-stool counter in 1927. After only three days, Crabill bought out Carpenter for $75. The counter remained in operation, run by Forest’s son and daughter-in-law, David and Joyce, until it closed in 1988.
Marsha and Andy decided to restart the family business soon after with the help of Marsha’s parents. They were eager to leave their factory jobs (she worked at Honda, he worked at Bristol-Meyers) so they purchased a small motor home and dubbed it “Crabill’s on Wheels.” They made the rounds of county fairs and horse shows, and after three years on wheels the couple decided to go brick-and-mortar. Crabill’s was reborn on the west side of town, just a few blocks from, and not much larger than, the original location.
The first time I visited the reincarnation of the burger counter, I sat next to a white-bearded regular named Will Yoder who for decades has played the annual town Santa. Will had recently had his teeth removed and was on a soft food diet. Personally, I couldn’t think of a better spot to dine on tasty, soft food. The tiny burgers at Crabill’s, with their pillowy Wonder buns and healthy dose of burger grease, actually do melt in your mouth.