Hamburger America (31 page)

The Owl Burger is what many call the “other great green chile cheeseburger in New Mexico.” I drove 280 miles to eat this burger so my expectations were high. I sat at the bar at 11 a.m. and watched as burger after burger was dispatched to the booths opposite the bar. Thankfully, mine showed up in only four minutes—the smell of green chile wafting through the air was making me very hungry.

All of the burgers are served on plastic plates with a napkin between the burger and the plate. Their famous green chile cheeseburger starts as a patty of fresh ground beef that has been pressed flat on a flattop griddle (the Owl grinds its own beef daily). Cheese, onion, tomato, mayo, and pickles are standard, and the green chiles pack a
punch. They come from Hatch, New Mexico, and are lovingly prepared by Pinto, the kitchen prep cook. Pinto has been preparing the green chile for the Owl for over 40 years.

The clientele is a mix of silver-haired motorhome enthusiasts and servicemen in fatigues. The bar’s entrance celebrates its proximity to the infamous Trinity Site, the spot where scientists tested the first atomic bomb only 25 miles away. Large photos of the mushroom cloud and other missile-site ephemera are proudly displayed. Frank Chavez opened the Owl Bar in 1945, just in time to accommodate the entertainment-starved scientists who were frequenting the area. At the request of these scientists, a griddle was installed and the Owl Burger was born.

The shelves of the bar are covered with hundreds of donated servicemen’s uniform patches from all over the country. Current owner Rowena Baca, Frank Chavez’ daughter, started the collection years ago. Bartender of 30 years, Cathy Baca, explained, “Rowena told a cop she liked the patch on his uniform so he ripped it off and gave it to her. Since then, we get patches from everywhere.”

Another item tacked to the walls is money. Tourists are encouraged to sign and donate a bill of their choice and pick a spot on the wall. Once a year the money is taken down, counted, and given to charity. “We’ve collected over $15,000 in the last six years,” said Cathy. The walls account for up to $2,500 a year, with the exception of a recent late-night robbery. “They stole $600,” Cathy told me. “I don’t know how they got it off the walls so fast—it takes us forever.”

 

 

F
or two decades the Corner Bistro in Greenwich Village, New York City, served my “hometown” burger. It’s the burger that became the standard by which all others would be measured. I’ve eaten over a thousand burgers at the Bistro in different states of intoxication or sober, for lunch and dinner, and a few times I even ate them with friends at 3 a.m. on a Tuesday. For five of those years I lived a block away and secretly wondered if my motive for moving had been burger proximity. I knew the right times to visit to avoid the crowds, and their phone number was in the speed dial of my cell phone. I placed phone orders and used the quiet side door to sneak in, grab my waiting hot paper bag, and make a swift exit. My burger quest started here and ends here as well. I went forth into Hamburger America, ate well, returned, and was confident that the “Bistro Burger” really is one of the best in the nation.

Inside and out, the Corner Bistro defies its name and looks the part of the Irish pub. Carved-up wooden tables, well-worn, wide plank floorboards, and a long bar with a noticeable dip in the center create your lasting first impression. “The
building is still settling,” Bill O’Donnell said in defense of the sloping bar. Bill has been the owner of the Bistro for over 40 years and its famous burger has been on the menu just as long.

The building housing the Corner Bistro dates back to 1827 and before it was a bar it was an inn. The existing décor surrounding the bar (stained-glass cabinetry and mirrors) as well as the brass-foot-railed bar itself is said to date back to 1880. After Prohibition was repealed, the bar became Barney McNichols and attracted mostly the longshoremen who populated the neighborhood. After its short stint as a gay bar, in 1961 a Spanish woman bought it and attempted to put a European spin on the old tavern by calling it the Corner Bistro. It didn’t last and went back to being what it has been for well over a century—a cozy dive with a great jukebox.

In 1977, Mimi Sheraton, the well-known food critic from the
New York Times
, wrote a favorable piece on the Bistro Burger that kick-started the surge of popularity that has not slowed since. “I came in the next day and the place was packed,” Bill told me. “I was shocked.” Bill himself admits that there’s nothing special about the burger and nothing has changed in 40 years. “We still use the same butcher around the corner. It’s good meat, mostly chuck and sirloin but I think he puts some porterhouse in there too.” Two hundred and fifty pounds of the fresh ground beef gets walked over by hand cart from 14th Street to the Bistro everyday. This was the way all restaurants received their meat in the first half of the twentieth century, delivered by hand from a local butcher.

The Bistro Burger doesn’t try to be anything but a great hamburger. It’s a thick, 8-ounce burger whose only flourish is three crispy strips of bacon that have been flash-fried in the deep fryer (ever wonder why those fries taste so damn good?). It’s served on a toasted, white squishy bun with lettuce, tomato, and a thick onion slice hidden beneath the burger. It’s cooked in a tiny, postage stamp–sized kitchen staffed by two. They cook the burgers to your preferred temperature in a salamander broiler, a small, specialized oven that cooks the burgers slowly by indirect, overhead heat. Bartender of 40 years, Harold, explained, “It keeps the burgers soft and juicy.”

Hard-working Louis has been the head chef and chief of burger operations at the Bistro for over 25 years. He is a man of few words but will always get your order right. Louis is in charge of the line that builds most nights for people waiting for a table and will take your order. The infamous line starts at the phone booth and can go all the way to the front door, so grab a beer at the bar first.

Many people try to bad-mouth this burger because they are embarrassed by its simplicity. In a city with no tangible burger identity (you really can find any type of burger in New York City, from the bloated wallet busters to tasty sliders), the Bistro Burger stands out as an unflappable success grounded in modesty. The success has spread to other bars in the neighborhood that claim to “know the secret of the Bistro Burger” and have even hired cast-off Bistro kitchen staff to boost business. “There are no secrets,” Bill told me laughing, “The recipe is ‘good meat,’ you idiots.”

 

 

R
egulars, God bless ’em, show up at this Woodside, Queens, Irish pub at 11 a.m. daily to slowly drink their Guinness stout and just talk. They are cared for by Robert Kansella, bartender of 40 years who was at the pub before there was even a restaurant. The bar he tends to is an impressive one—long, dark, solid and with the type of patina that only comes with age. It’s a great bar to sit at, drink a Guinness, and just talk, but even better to enjoy a burger, one of the best I’ve ever eaten.

I asked Robert how big the burgers were and his only response was, “They are pretty big.” He was not far off. This pub has been serving half-pound burgers since 1970, and a lot of them. Artie Kardaras, head chef at Donovan’s for over 35 years, told me they hand-patty 400 pounds of quality ground shell steak (New York strip) a day for their burgers. “I make every day fresh,” he proudly explained with his thick Greek accent.

The Donovan’s burger is a lesson in how a large burger should be prepared. It’s cooked in a way that few burgers are in America—in a broiler
used for cooking steaks. The loose-pattied burger is broiled to the temperature of your choice with little attention paid to it by the chef. “Too many people press them too much,” Artie explained with big hand gestures and twisted facial expressions. Artie believes, and is correct, that the best burgers are left alone and touched the least.

When you bite into the inch-thick Donovan’s burger, the first thing you notice is how loose the meat is. The delicate exterior char can barely contain the tender, steamy beef inside. A half-pound burger may sound tough to tackle, but the meat-to-bun ratio is nearly perfect, making the entire experience incredibly satisfying.

Other than a bar, burgers, and regulars, Donovan’s also has an impressive dining room and a great menu loaded with comfort food. Go during the colder months and enjoy your burgers by the cozy fireplace in the dark-paneled dining room with Tiffany lamps hanging overhead.

The most obvious landmark you’ll notice outside Donovan’s Pub is the undeniably old–New York elevated subway rumbling overhead every few minutes. What you may not pick out is the tavern’s odd proximity to a church only a few feet away, directly across the street. “This place was here before the church so they were allowed to stay,” regular Don Moran told me from his spot at the bar. According to New York City zoning law, no drinking establishment may be operated within 500 feet of a place of worship. So this may be the closest you’ll get to a church to drink and eat great burgers in New York City—in fact, the stained glass windows do give the place a churchlike feel.

In 2004
Time Out NY
called the burger at Donovan’s the best in New York City. That’s quite a claim in this town of diverse food possibilities and unlimited types of burger joints. Did the press increase sales at the sleepy neighborhood tavern? “Sure,” bartender Robert admitted, “but we’ve been selling a lot of burgers forever.”