by George Motz
Don’t expect warm hellos, pictures on the walls, or a large menu. Robert’s is a tiny, clean, utilitarian place—a counter with fourteen stools facing a flattop griddle surrounded by a wall of stainless steel. It’s the kind of counter where you don’t linger long, and the burgers come fast and go down even faster. The exterior is sparse as well. The building is a bright-white box with small windows and red trim—the visual effect may be off-putting to the untrained gourmand but believe me, you have come to the right place.
Robert’s menu is limited to Coneys (chili dogs), grilled cheese, fries, tater tots, and the burger that made El Reno famous, the onion-fried burger.
Located in the burger belt of El Reno, Robert’s is only a few hundred feet from Johnnie’s and Sid’s, and across the street from the spot where the onion-fried burger was born. “The Hamburger Inn was right where that bank is now,” owner of almost two decades, Edward Graham, told me. It was at the eight-stool Hamburger Inn that a man named Ross Davis tried to stretch his burger meat by pressing in sliced onions, appealing to cash-strapped, out-of-work railroad men. The Hamburger Inn was situated on old Route 66, an outpost at the onset of the auto age, so you can imagine the brisk business. Imitators were born and a legendary burger was embraced.
The hamburger at Robert’s, as it is all over town, is an onion burger. Edward smashes a ball of fresh-ground chuck on the hot griddle with a sawed-off mason’s trowel, and a pile of shredded onions is placed on top. The onions are pressed hard into the patty. The contents fuse, creating a beautiful, caramelized, onion-beef mess. Edward places a white squishy bun on the patty as it finishes so that the bun soaks up the onion steam. The result is a flat, odd-looking burger that tastes incredible.
When Robert’s opened in 1926, it was called Bob’s White Rock. The front door was on the Route 66 side only steps from a trolley stop. Edward told me, “People could get off the trolley here, get burgers at the window, and jump back on again. The grill used to be in the front window.” Edward started working at Robert’s in 1979 and purchased the counter in 1989.
For locals, there is an abundance of great onion-fried burger options in El Reno. When I asked a regular named Troy at the counter why he chose to patronize Robert’s, he seemed to fall back on brand loyalty. “I’ve been coming here for 50 years. I remember when they were eight for a dollar.” Now that’s a good customer.
SID’S DINER
300 SOUTH CHOCTAW | EL RENO, OK 73036
405-262-7757 | MON–SAT 7 AM–8:30 PM
CLOSED SUNDAY
“Do you know what the definition of a diner is?” Marty Hall, part owner of this El Reno burger destination asked me. “It’s a place where the grill is in view and I can turn around and talk to the people.” And he does, making Sid’s one of the friendliest places I have ever set foot in. But it doesn’t stop there—Sid’s also makes one of the best onion-fried burgers anywhere.
Sid’s is named after Marty’s father, who passed away just before the restaurant opened in 1989. Marty had planned to work side by side with Sid, a retired highway employee. When he died, Sid’s brother, Bob, asked if he could take his spot. This sounds like a customary role for a family member to play, except that Bob left a six-figure job at Chevron in Houston to flip burgers. El Reno, Oklahoma, is famous for one thing—onion-fried burgers. Invented just across the street from Sid’s at the long-gone Hamburger Inn.
Bob and Marty Hall—truly dedicated burgermen
Sid’s is not alone in El Reno. At one point there were over nine onion-fried-burger joints within five blocks of downtown. Today, Sid’s, Johnnie’s, and Robert’s, the three remaining diners, are just a few hundred feet from one another.
If you choose a seat at the counter, you’ll have a great view of the construction of an onion-fried burger. Sid or Bob grab a ball of fresh-ground chuck from a beautiful pyramid of beef balls at the side of the griddle. Gobs of thinly sliced onions are piled onto the ball of beef on the large flattop griddle. The ball is pressed thin and the onions are worked into the soft meat. The burger is flipped, and after a few minutes, the caramelized onions have fused to the griddle-charred beef. Prepare your mouth for a taste explosion.
The burger is served on a white squishy bun with the meat and gnarled onions hanging out of it. Nothing is served with a regular burger except pickles (on the side) but you may find condiments unnecessary. If you require lettuce and tomato, ask for a Deluxe. Make yours a King Size and the meat and onions are doubled. The King is the most popular burger and makes for a perfect meal, especially if enjoyed with Sid’s excellent hand-cut, homemade fries. “I learned how to make fries down at J&W,” Marty told me, referring to another not-to-be-missed onion-fried burger further south in Chickasha.
One of the more unique features of Sid’s is their impressive decoupage countertop, sealed in poured resin. “The history of El Reno starts on that end,” Marty told me, pointing to the far left side of the counter. The patchwork of vintage El Reno photography includes everything from early shots of downtown to color photos of local baseball teams. “I wanted people who came in who weren’t from here to know something about my town.”
Even though Sid’s is technically a newcomer to the onion-fried-burger phenomenon, Marty has been involved just about his entire life. “I used to work at Johnnie’s and my father helped out there as well.” Sid’s, he told me, was modeled after the old Johnnie’s.
Bob and Marty take turns flipping and pressing a lot of onions into their burgers. When the pyramid of beef balls next to the griddle gets low, a new, perfect pyramid miraculously appears. Every once in a while Marty will turn and dispense life lessons with a smile to anyone at the counter. “Be good to your daddy,” he says to some teenaged girls picking at their fries, “I should know. I have three daughters.”
SLICK’S
107 SOUTH LOUIS TITTLE AVE | MANGUM, OK 73554
580-782-2481 | MON–SAT 8 AM–6 PM
I receive e-mails daily telling me where to go (literally) and I love them all. Following the publication of the first edition of this book, an e-mail came in that said simply (in all caps), “LOVED YOUR BOOK. SOMEDAY I HOPE YOU CAN TRY HAMBURGER SLICKS IN MANGUM, OK. SLICKS IS THE BEST.” I think it was the all caps that got to me and I started planning a trip to western Oklahoma immediately.
Mangum, Oklahoma is not on the way to anything. It is a true destination deep in rural ranch and oil country and is a solid 35 miles south of I-40, hours from Oklahoma City. If you decide to venture off the interstate into the Oklahoma interior I guarantee that you will be rewarded with one of the greatest burgers in America.
Slick’s is located on the main artery in and out of the dusty city of Mangum. It’s hard to miss the tiny white shack with its red-and-white striped roof. There’s barely an identifying sign and no place to sit, just a little window with a sliding screen to place your order. When I arrived for the first time, grillperson Helen told me, “Come around back.” Inside I found a griddle and fry area adjacent to a small table with mismatched stools. What I assumed was a table for the kitchen staff turned out to be a table for regulars that prefer to eat in. It was equipped with a roll of paper towels and a tip jar. Imagine a chef ’s table at a hot restaurant where you can watch your favorite chef make magic. This is my kind of front-row seat, inches from a flattop griddle loaded with sizzling burgers.
The burgers at Slick’s are phenomenal and the choices somewhat confusing. You can order a regular hamburger or cheeseburger, which is around 3 ounces and comes on a toasted, white squishy bun. Or order the Giant, which adds twice as much meat and a larger bun. Anything can be doubled, and sure enough the most popular burger is the Giant Double Cheeseburger. From what I could tell, the Giant Double included 2 seven-ounce patties making this beast, after condiments, a one-pound burger.
A regular named Chris who has lunch at the kitchen table every Friday told me, “I usually get the regular double. Anything larger than that and I won’t be worth a damn back at work.” Undeterred, I poli
shed off, with ease, the Giant Double with two slices of American, pickles, mustard, raw onion, lettuce, and tomato. How? Because it was so damned good.
The small flattop griddle is darkened with decades of seasoning. The burger at Slick’s starts with a ball of fresh ground beef, a special 73/27 chuck blend from the local supermarket down the street. Helen grabs a few balls from a nearby fridge, tosses them on the griddle, and presses them into the shape of a burger with a heavy spatula. A not-so-secret blend of salt and pepper is sprinkled on the patties and they are cooked over high heat until a decent crust forms. Large, soft buns warm on the griddle as the patties cook and they pick up some residual grease.
Like many of the places in this book the grillperson at Slick’s uses a non-traditional, custom-made spatula. In this case, a sawed-off concrete trowel with a handle re-fashioned from molded fiberglass resin is the grill tool of choice at Slick’s. Owner Mike Avery told me, “I used a toilet paper tube for the mold and just held it in place until it set.”
Mike left 10 years in the oil exploration business to take over Slick’s from his dad in 2009 and as a third-generation owner understands his duty to the regulars. “Some people are here every day,” Mike told me. As I sat at the community table in the kitchen I noticed something slightly incongruous with the setting—an 8 x 10 glossy of 2007 Miss America Lauren Nelson signed over to “The gang at Slick’s.” “Oh, that’s my cousin,” Mike shared nonchalantly.
The tiny burger shack started as a Dairy Queen back in 1959 and was built and owned by Mike’s grandfather, Audry Mills Avery, and their uncle Slick Avery. Audry was a blind carpenter and built Slick’s from the ground up. When I asked Mike how this was possible he said with a smile, “You tell me.”
About a year after running the place, the relationship with Dairy Queen soured. “They were trying to tell Slick what to cook and wanted him to use frozen beef,” Mike’s younger brother, Joe, told me. Slick only wanted to use fresh ground beef, and as Joe put it, “They told him ‘You can’t do that,’ and Slick said, ‘The hell I can’t.’” And that was the end of that. Thankfully, 50 years later Slick’s continues to avoid the temptation to use frozen beef and will only serve quality food to a faithful clientele.
30
OREGON
GIANT DRIVE-IN
15840 BOONES FERRY RD | LAKE OSWEGO, OR 97035
503-636-0255 | SUN–THU 10 AM–9 PM
FRI & SAT 10 AM–10 PM
Hooray for the mom-and-pop hamburger stand. Giant Drive-In is quite literally a mom-and-pop—owned and operated by a husband and wife team that is dedicated to bringing quality comfort food to the neighborhood and have done so for 30 years.
Bill Kreger and his wife, Gail, bought Giant in 1981 after Bill had burned out on a mechanical engineering career. “We had planned to fix it up and flip it, but here we are!” Bill told me enthusiastically. The odd looking A-frame ski chalet structure was originally part of a failed’60s chain called Mr. Swiss. In 1970 it became Giant and was open for 10 years until a Burger King opened across the street. “The previous owner just gave up, locked the doors, and walked away,” Bill told me. But today, the Burger King is gone. When I asked Bill what happened, he just smiled and shrugged. I gathered there’s only room for one burger stand in this stretch of suburban Portland.
Starting the business was not easy for the Kregers. “You have to keep your hand in it or you are not going to have it,” Bill explained. “We spent seventeen hours a day, seven days a week for the first seven years to get this place up and running.” The time invested shows—the burgers are excellent.
The list of hamburger concoctions is vast. You can order a standard quarter-pound burger or choose from an eclectic selection of burgers like the “Teriyaki,” the “Hawaiian,” or an “Avocado Burger.” But the burger that gets its own neon sign is the enormous “Filler.” The Filler is almost too big to put in your mouth, but I managed. Its contents are similar to nearby Stanich’s signature burger, but the Filler contains two quarter-pound patties instead of one. The burger also contains a slice of ham, cheese, a fried egg, bacon, lettuce, onion, pickles, tomato, and mayo. All this piled neatly on a locally baked seeded sourdough roll. I was speechless (and dazed) for hours after I consumed this thing. Amazingly, Gail told me it was her burger of choice, but said, “Believe it or not, I actually put an extra patty on it.”
The fresh hamburger patties are delivered daily and come from local grass-fed Angus sirloin. The Kregers request a 90 percent lean grind. “Any less fat and the burger breaks up on the griddle. Any more and the burger shrinks to nothing.” The cheese is also local Tillamook, purchased in 40-pound blocks and sliced on premises. Bill explained, “We try to only use local, fresh ingredients,” and added, “In the summertime Oregon tomatoes can get to be this big,” making a shape with his hands the size of an invisible grapefruit.
The interior of the Giant is a classic retro burger drive-in. Bright, clean, and inviting, the Giant has floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides, booths for seating, and a yellow-and-brown checkered linoleum floor. Hanging over the cash register is a photo of a half dozen UPS trucks lined up in the Giant parking lot. “Once a week the local UPS guys converge on Giant,” Bill explained. “Sometimes there are over fifteen trucks out there.”
I watched the Kregers greet familiar faces, pleasantly take orders, and flip burgers. They make the business of selling hamburgers look easy. But as I left, Gail gave me some sage advice, “Keep your sanity and stay out of the restaurant business!”
HELVETIA TAVERN
10275 NW HELVETIA RD | HILLSBORO, OR 97124
503-647-5286 | SUN–THURS 11 AM–10 PM
FRI & SAT 11 AM–11 PM
Nestled in the rolling farm country of western Oregon, a short distance from Portland but a world away, sits a restaurant and bar that amazingly turns out over a thousand burgers on a busy Saturday. The restaurant is the comfortable Helvetia Tavern (pronounced Hel-VAY-sha) and is way out in the country. Regardless of how far it is from anything, burger lovers gladly make the trek to the Helvetia for their signature “Jumbo Burger” and great selection of microbrews on tap.
“It’s a pretty simple menu and nothing has changed since we opened,” part owner Mike Lampros told me. “We did add salads, though, two years ago.” There are a few sandwiches on the menu and a grilled cheese, but I looked around and saw mostly burgers being consumed. A lot of them too—the grill stayed full the entire time I was at Helvetia. They easily served over 200 burgers in the hour that I sat at the counter.
The Jumbo is just that—two thin quarter-pound patties of fresh ground beef are cooked on a large flattop griddle and served on a toasted six-inch bun with bacon, cheese, lettuce, onion, tomato, and the ubiquitous and tasty Pacific Northwest condiment, “Goop” (see sidebar on page 346). The bun is larger than the patties, which are arranged slightly overlapping so the burger is presented wider, not taller. “That’s the way we’ve always done it,” Mike explained. “The single patty is served on a smaller bun.” As a finishing touch, the Jumbo is stabbed in the center and delivered with a plastic knife, as Mike explained, “to keep the contents from sliding around.” The burgers are moist and exploding with flavor, thanks to the mustardy-mayo Goop holding the large burger together. Wash your burger down with the tasty and hard-to-find RC Cola, on tap at Helvetia.
The building that houses the Helvetia first opened in 1914 as a general store. In 1946 a bar was added to one side and burgers were served. Mike’s father, Nick Lampros, bought the tavern in 1978 and changed nothing until the late 1990s when he and his son turned the old general store into a dining room. “Up until then it was a twenty-one-and-over bar crowd,” Mike told me, taking a break from the grill. “The dining room allowed us to start attracting families.” And they do, and those families have the benefit of dining at Helvetia with a picture-perfect view of the sheep grazing across the street. The dining room tables are actually enormous foot-thick blocks of timber with a high-gloss finish. Mike poi
nted out, “They came from a tree that fell in a neighbor’s yard.”
The tavern side of Helvetia is a comfortably dark, broken-in bar with a 1950 Brunswick pool table that still costs only a quarter to play. A strange collection of baseball caps hangs from the ceiling, some signed by pro athletes. Mike explained that the thousand of caps were up there to hide the ugly ceiling. “We take them down twice a year to clean them.”
If there was any doubt as to how accommodating this place was to regulars, just take a counter seat at the last stool in the back of the restaurant. That’s Grant’s seat. Then look over the food prep area directly in front of you. Hanging on an air duct is a mirror positioned perfectly to read the TV behind you in reverse. “He comes in here at three everyday, like clockwork,” the grillman told me. Then Mike explained, “We blocked his view of the TV across the room with a new sign. This was his solution.”
STANICH’S TAVERN
4915 NE FREMONT ST | PORTLAND, OR 97213
503-281-2322 | MON–THU 11 AM–10 PM
FRI & SAT 11 AM–11 PM
Once upon a time in America, the “sports bar” was merely a neighborhood bar where you could guarantee that the game you wanted to watch would be on the TV hanging in the corner over the bottles of booze. If there were two games on at the same time, the TV at the other end of the bar would be tuned in. At some point, the sports bar concept went corporate and today it is not uncommon to find many with stadium seating and games on up to 30 screens, some of them fullsized movie screens. The sports bar became a soulless, unfamiliar place where the only reason to go was to ensure you’d see your game. Stanich’s is a real sports bar, one that is oozing soul. It’s an unquestionably comfortable, welcoming place that also happens to make one of the tastiest burgers I’ve ever eaten.