Editor's note: Burgermeisters! Here's another excerpt from George Motz's book Hamburger America. George and his publisher were kind enough to allow us to run them here, along with George's beautiful photos. Eat up!
A visit to Blimpy Burger can be a daunting but rewarding experience. Part theatre, the cooks behind the counter engage in a sort of Soup Nazi berating of customers that do not follow the cafeteria-style rules of ordering. "Just answer the questions I’m asking you," grill cook Brian told a group of newcomers the first time I visited. In reality, the rules are there to help you, not scare you. They are there to allow the cooks to get your food to you fast, which is a good thing because you'll need this burger in your mouth as soon as possible.
Blimpy Burger is on the edge of the University of Michigan campus, surrounded by student rental houses with mud lawns. For students, the positioning of this decades old greasy spoon could not be better. The interior of Blimpy Burger is wholly utilitarian and the opposite of a comfy dive. A low, drop ceiling and greenish fluorescent lighting give the place a construction trailer feel. A collection of vintage cast-iron swivel stools bolted to the floor service most of the tables.
Editor's note: Burgermeisters! Here's another excerpt from George Motz's book Hamburger America. George and his publisher were kind enough to allow us to run them here, along with George's beautiful photos. Eat up!
Miller's is on a commercial stretch, 6 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.
There is no menu at Miller’s but the options are simple—burgers, fries, onion rings are available, as are tuna, ham, and corned beef sandwiches and, of course, drinks from the bar. The clientele are 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.
Yes. We've seen it. You can stop emailing us about it now.
The Fifth-Third Burger is a 1.66-pound burger thing that's available at the West Michigan Whitecaps Fifth Third Ballpark in Comstock Park, Michigan.
It's got a bunch of crap on it: 1.66 pounds of beef, lettuce, tomato, salsa, sour cream, chili, and Fritos (even though they look more like Doritos in the picture). All on an eight-inch sesame seed bun. Officially it feeds one to four people. It costs $20. [via Dylan M]
Detroit Free Press whittled down a list of hundreds of burger suggestions and spent weeks of taste testing to bring you the 25 best burgers in metro Detroit in four categories: Old School, Loaded, High End, and Alternative. While their print edition lists 25 burgers, they added another 15 to their online gallery for maximum burger food porn. This is not the gallery to look at on an empty stomach.
Luna Pier Cook blogger Dave Liske (better known as LunaPierCook on Serious Eats) gave us a heads up about this mammoth one-pound burger found at Chateau Louise in Luna Pier, Michigan. He didn't delve into the specifics of how to get the whole thing into one's mouth, but he let us know how this ginormous meatball sandwich tastes:
The custom ground meat for the Chateau Burger gives it a distinctive flavor that's somewhat addicting. Also, with the burger itself ending up so large, "medium rare" means the inside is really more red than just pink. Imagine the inside of a large Filet Mignon that's been cooked medium rare. That's what you'll find inside this thing.
Big chunk of medium-rare meat? I like the sound of that.
Chateau Louise
4320 Luna Pier Road, Luna Pier MI 48157 (map)
734-848-4758
Today we're going through a stack of shamefully unanswered emails. Here's one that poses an interesting question that perhaps AHT readers can shed some light on....
Dear AHT: I have a question for you that maybe you could answer for me and my friend, chef Chris George of Zingerman's Roadhouse in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I'm trying to get him to put a tortilla burger on the lunch specials menu, and he wants to know where the recipe originated. I'm pretty sure it's a New Mexican invention, but I couldn't find anything from googling it or on Wikipedia.
A tortilla burger's pretty easy—a burger is grilled, wrapped in a flour tortilla, cheese and green or red chile is put on top, and it goes under the broiler for a half a minute. You eat it with a fork and knife. We had it at the Blue Corn Cafe and Brewery in Santa Fe when I worked there. It's somewhat common on menus in New Mexico. I'd serve a little salad with a fresh corn–bean-cilantro-and-lime topping on the side.
Whaddaya think? Can you help shed some light on the subject? Chris and I want to know. —Dave
Dear Dave: I suspect burger purists are horrified at the idea of this concoction, but it sounds pretty interesting. Almost like a burger-based version of Taco's Bell's excellent Crunchwrap Supreme product. But a thousand times better. I don't know what the origins are, off hand. Can't your friend Chris add it to the menu without the origin story? See how it goes. And when you make them, take a picture and send it our way.
Readers: Do any of you know the origin of this "burger"? Email us or leave your answers in the Comments section. —The Management
Here's a killer list we've mentioned on AHT but have never elaborated on. It's Alan Richman's top 20 from his July 2005 story "The 20 Hamburgers You Must Eat Before You Die" in GQ. Do click through to read the entire piece; it quickly made its way onto the Required Reading list at AHT HQ. Bon appétit! ...
A visit to Blimpy Burger can be a daunting but rewarding experience. Part theatre, the cooks behind the counter engage in a sort of Soup Nazi berating of customers that do not follow the cafeteria-style rules of ordering. "Just answer the questions I’m asking you," grill cook Brian told a group of newcomers the first time I visited. In reality, the rules are there to help you, not scare you. They are there to allow the cooks to get your food to you fast, which is a good thing because you'll need this burger in your mouth as soon as possible.
