What does a good hamburger mean? Ingredients alone do not a good hamburger make. There is a certain artistry required. What it is, exactly, I don’t know. I read recently that when a hamburger is good, “you just know.”
It’s true. You do just know.
If I think back to some my most memorable burger experiences, a few stand out, and only a couple are actually a product of the hamburger itself.
Going to Burger King with my dad in London at Piccadilly Circus in the summer of 1999 stands out, not because I love Burger King (I actually kind of dislike it), but because my dad, who is allergic to beef, suggested it. His rationale– it being the “king” had to make it British.
A thin, measly patty of grey ground beef at the 2004 US Open at Shinnecock Hills. I don’t know why, but those frozen patties grilled to oblivion with a slice of american cheese and a layer of ketchup get me in the right place.
My first time to the Corner Bistro with the Grizza– my introduction to something quintessentially New York. A sign that I would be a “regular.” This became my city, in some respects. I was welcomed. Maybe that’s an exaggeration. But I found myself in the midst of a place with a cult following. I felt like I was a part of something larger– the New York “burgerrati.” Hell, I’m part of a crew trying to take over the nation based solely on ground beef and bread.
In-n-out with my parents, years unknown. We’d wait in the car for what seemed like forever. I don’t even remember the burger. I just remember it happening.
I used to get my grandmother cheeseburgers and coffee from McDonald’s pretty much every day, since it was one of the few things she would eat as her overall mental and physical health declined. She and I couldn’t really communicate, since she spoke little english and I spoke no spanish. After I would help her get to the kitchen table, we used to eat burgers at the kitchen table. I used to be nervous because I didn’t really know what to say to her. But I think she appreciated it. I hope she did, at least. I wish that I spoke spanish. I bet she wished she spoke english.
The first bloggingforburgers experience– at JG Melon’s, fittingly, was a mini-culmination. Four guys, from different places, with different life plans, came together around a piece of ground beef and two pieces of bread.
That’s what makes a good burger.
And what makes a bad burger? Easy– bad ingredients and bad flavor. And no story.