A Hamburger Today
Van Nuys, Calif.: All Nostalgia at Beeps Fast Food
Beeps Fast Food
16063 Sherman Way Van Nuys, CA 91406 (map); 818-781-0830
Cooking Method: Charbroiled
Short Order: This throwback, '50's drive-in isn't what it used to be.
Want Fries with That? Fries aren't all bad, but go for the rings instead.
Prices: The Big Beeper $3.79, 1/4 lb. Cheeseburger $3.09
Notes:The 3 p. m. - 7 p.m. two for one burger deal make a sub-par burger easier to swallow.
The drive-in is, in many respects, why we’re having this extended burger conversation. That is to say, American burger culture, writ large, came of age in the postwar boom that scattered people and their cars across the suburban landscape. The increasing sprawl made the automobile a necessary accoutrement of modern life. Cars would get us there, and carhops would get us our burgers.
Living in Southern California means living alongside this history. I’ve visited some of the now-defunct original locations that heralded the burger boom, but my favorites are still functioning. My first review here brought me to Van Nuys for a burger that had changed little in 40 years (with good reason).
Recently, I headed back to sunny Van Nuys, and all of its post-industrial malaise, to try a place that lays claim to 56 years of serving burgers. Beeps Fast Food is not only a name that references that aforementioned drive-in culture, it’s a living part of its history. I drove in to see if was still riding the glory road or if its glory days were in the rear-view mirror.
Walking into the modest indoor dining area is not so much a blast from the past as it is a blast of the past—fluorescent-lit and paneled in aluminum diamond plating. Records, photos, and Betty Boop cartoon images line the walls and ceilings. The booths are vinyl and the menus are overhead. The two mitigating factors of all this purposeful Americana are the authentic patina that comes with 56 years of operation and some great music from the era to accompany your burger and shake.
Speaking of burgers and shakes, let’s get to it. I order up a standard cheeseburger with everything (top) which means lettuce, tomato, pickle, and Thousand Island. I notice that grilled onions are optional so I make sure to opt.
I’ve come for a late afternoon Sunday lunch, which means burgers are two for one. Whatever doubt there had been about my overindulging was put to rest by that entirely pocketbook-friendly deal. Scanning the vast (to the point of overstimulation) menu I look for a few more items to sample. Fries? Check. Rings? Check. Black and white shake, lemon cake, and a Chicago style dog? Check, check, check. Oh, and a one more thing: “The Big Beeper.” That’s a double cheeseburger with everything. Don’t look at me, I’m hideous.
Taking a seat in a corner booth gives me a nice vantage from which to take in the folks who are filing into the place. It’s a nice mix of Angelenos. Young and old, hip and less so (i.e., me). All (except me) seem to order with the ease of regulars. At the very least, Beeps seems to bring them back. Let’s see what it feels like for the first time.
The single cheesburger autopsy shot.
I try the single cheeseburger first. Immediately it’s clear that the sesame seeded, commercial roll is way too much for this slim, quarter-pound patty. It has a bready sturdiness that won’t relent. The ideal commercial roll gives up its form and reveals its lack of substance with the pressure of a hand. This one pushes back. It might work on a larger patty but completely overpowers this little guy. The fat of the cheese and umami of the grilled onions do their level best in this losing battle against bun. The patty itself gives of a nice whiff of char, but it’s both too slim and far too overcooked to put up any kind of fight.
I dive into my area of also-rans in this burger race. The fries are surprisingly thicker cut (a quarter inch or so) and nicely seasoned. I had thought that a restaurant that has “Fast Food” in its name would serve the standard fast food style fries, but these have their own style. They lack the crispiness to garner a special mention, but do have some decent flavor. The onion rings are standouts. They are battered and fried up to near orange-brown perfection. The shake is just good, but on a hot afternoon I find good, good enough. I have to stop myself from filling up on it as there is one more burger on my menu of afternoon excess. Actually, make that a double.
The Big Beeper.
"The Big Beeper" is two quarter-pound patties layered with the aforementioned toppings. Whatever hopes I’d had for the added meat adding some flavor were quickly dashed when I saw that the two patties were separated with yet another layer of bun. It seems that the Big Mac attacks in more ways than one. In this case, it’s the three-bun gambit. To be fair, I’d believe them if they told me that Beeps served this three-tiered construction before McDonald’s, but that doesn’t make it taste any better. The meat-to-bun ratio is ridiculous. I get almost no flavor of the meat. This seemed an added insult in a place that takes the trouble to broil up all that char.
I decide to intervene. I remove the middle bun to make this fight a little fairer. You can see a cross-section of my burger improv above. The two patties inside just two pieces of bread and, finally, the meat has presence, if not full attention. It lacks seasoning and again is overcooked, but at least the chew and char get in a few licks before I call the fight.
Beeps wasn’t the frozen-in-time masterpiece that I’d hoped. These standard-issue, charbroiled burgers lack the basic balances that make for a meal that can stand up to the modern interpretations (and improvements) of the classic. To be sure, without historic places like Beeps, there’d be no classic to interpret, but I’m OK with it being a single entry in my burger history.