[Photographs: Todd Brock]

Atlanta has a long history of, well, erasing its history. You can blame General Sherman for starting the trend, I suppose (it just so happens I'm writing these words on the anniversary of his orders to burn the city to the ground in 1864), but the ATL sometimes seems so set on trying to be The Next Great City that it paves right over the things that made it unique and special to begin with. Sure, there are exceptions. Coca-Cola is still based here after 120-some-odd years. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthplace, neighborhood, church, and burial site should be a required field trip for every American citizen. And I suppose Stone Mountain has been around a pretty long time, even geologically speaking.

But true historical institutions are few and far between in The City Too Busy To Hate. And for that reason alone, Manuel's Tavern is noteworthy. If only the same could be said of their burger.

Manuel Maloof bought a little sandwich and beer stand at the corner of North and North Highland Avenues back in 1956. Over the years, he piecemealed together a true neighborhood tavern that eventually occupied the entire city block at over 4,000 square feet. It became a favorite hangout for folks from all walks of life: policemen, journalists, politicians. It's where Jimmy Carter first announced his intentions to run for governor of the state in 1970. Manuel himself ran for office shortly thereafter and became DeKalb County's first CEO.

"The Godfather of Georgia Democratic Politics" passed away in 2004, but the Maloof family still owns and operates the place. And it remains something of a political landmark in town, with a painting of JFK as the bar's centerpiece, and Manuel's ashes in an urn beneath the portrait of FDR. I figured there would be no better spot to tuck into a burger on Election Night 2011 than Manuel's Tavern.

Must have been a busy night at the polls, though, because Manuel's was dead. In fact, there were more TVs tuned to Rocky III than to the local news' projections of a few mayoral races and whether Sunday alcohol sales would be legalized.

With one of the side rooms practically to myself, I ordered the "J.J. Special." Every item in Manuel's seems to have a rich history (e.g., the portrait of a nude woman left by an artist who couldn't pay his tab—the model is his wife); surely the only burger listed with quotation marks would come with an equally colorful backstory. But judging by the look on my server's face, I was possibly the first person ever to ask.

Whoever J.J. was, his namesake burger is decent enough: a half-pound patty on grilled wheat toast with Swiss and American cheeses and onions, served with fries and onion rings. Despite the extreme thinness of the flattened and elongated patty, the kitchen managed to leave a little pink inside in a valiant effort to hit medium rare. The beef showed obvious grill marks and was seasoned simply, if at all. The onions provided a nice crunch, and the two cheeses played nicely with each other, thanks to a one-up-one-down layout on either side of the meat. Wheat toast is an unusual choice (and, I'm convinced, an integral plot point in the mysterious tale of J.J.) that, while novel, unquestionably steers this burger toward patty melt classification.

The patty melt? Glad you asked. Manuel's version is certainly a looker with its grilled marble rye. Sadly, though, this classic was an utter disappointment. The bottom piece of toast was soggy to the point of being gross, but the half-pound of beef was somehow disturbingly dry. The Swiss and sautéed onions tried to add what flavor they could to the party, but I found myself craving a slathering of Steak 'n Shake's Frisco sauce.

The "J.J. Special" comes with both steak fries and onion rings. The fries were crisp and fluffy, nicely seasoned with coarse salt. The rings were of the thick variety, with a doughy batter. The good news? They had a clean bite; pulling onion out of its battered casing with my teeth equals automatic fail. The bad news? There were only four of them on my plate. Even for a half-and-half order and large rings, that's chintzy.

Manuel's is deservedly one of Atlanta's few genuine institutions. But culinarily, I'd argue that, like many institutions, it's getting by these days on reputation alone. As "a juicy slice of local color, a repository of Atlanta history" (according to the local paper's excellent 2006 write-up of its 50th anniversary), Manuel's Tavern stands alone. It may still be a great place for chewing the fat about current events and stirring up a healthy political debate, but Manuel's unremarkable and unorthodox burger is a far cry from historic.

About the author: Todd Brock lives the glamorous life of a stay-at-home freelance writer in the suburbs of Atlanta. Besides being paid to eat cheeseburgers for AHT and pizza for Slice, he's written and produced over 1,000 hours of television and recently penned Building Chicken Coops for Dummies. When he grows up, he wants to be either the starting quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys or the drummer for Hootie & the Blowfish. Or both.

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