Hamburger America (34 page)

 

 

T
he Snappy Lunch sells one of the best pork chop sandwiches in America and it is “World Famous” according to the menu. But this is a hamburger book, and the restaurant does its part to offer a bit of hamburger history as well. Popular with the locals, the Snappy Lunch sells a curiosity called the “Breaded Hamburger.” Sometimes referred to as the “No-Burger” or the “old fashioned,” this throwback to the Depression was invented when meat was scarce. At the Snappy Lunch, the breaded burger still outsells the regular burger on the menu three to one.

“I don’t even get into it with out-of-towners,” said Mary Dowell, wife of longtime owner and local food celebrity Charles Dowell. “I don’t even like them!” she told me with a smile. I tried my first Depression-era burger at the Snappy Lunch and really liked it. It kind of resembled a bland crab cake with ground beef inside. “What do ya think?” Mary asked. I told her it tasted like a biscuit and she informed me that I had named the main ingredient.

The breaded burger, referred to as just a “hamburger” by the staff (a nonbreaded burger is a “burger with meat”) starts as a blend of ground beef, crumbled cooked biscuits, and day-old bread. The blend, which leans mostly toward bread, is then formed into patties and cooked on the flattop
griddle. A finished burger “all the way” has on it coleslaw, mustard, onion, tomato, and chili.

The chili, a tasty, sweet, and chunky concoction, is ladled onto both the pork chop sandwich and the burgers. It was created by Charles in the 1950s by accident. “I was trying to make up something to put on the pork chops—the recipe has not changed since then and everyone wants it.”

Charles was a fixture at the Snappy Lunch since 1943 when, at age 15, he was paid $10 a week. Eight years later his father, a local grocer, helped Charles negotiate the purchase of a share in the restaurant and in 1960 he became the sole owner.

The name Snappy is fitting for the turn-of-the-century post office turned lunch counter because the doors close most days at 1:45 p.m. Oddly on Thursday closing time is 1:15 p.m. “As part of the war effort,” Charles told me, “restaurants were asked to choose a day to close early.”

Mary and Charles met over twenty years ago when someone tried to set her up with Charles’s son at the restaurant. Charles, now in his early 80s, is retired and Mary holds down the fort at Snappy Lunch.

In the recently renovated, gleaming kitchen at the rear of the restaurant, I met 16-year veteran cook, Diane. “I never thought a breaded burger could out sell the regular burger, but they do, every day.”

Mount Airy, North Carolina, exists in the minds of
The Andy Griffith Show
fans as the inspiration for Mayberry, the setting of the popular 1960s TV show. Not only did Andy grow up in Mount Airy, he also ate at the Snappy Lunch frequently as a child. Because of this, and his massive fan base, you may want to avoid the restaurant in late September when thousands descend on the small country town for Mayberry Days. Diane told me “We’ll actually stay open late those days just to make sure all those people are fed.”

 

 

T
raveling along Independence Boulevard just east of downtown Charlotte, NC, you’ll notice a vintage red neon sign that blinks with the words “curb service” and beckons you to pull in and float back in time. Slip into one of the many stalls, check out the menu, and push the order button. You are on your way to a classic South 21 Drive-In experience.

Since 1959, very little has changed at this Charlotte institution. Owned by the same family of Greek immigrants since the beginning, South 21 serves the same fresh, thin-patty burger that has come from the same local meat supplier for over 45 years. In 1955, George Copsis and his two brothers decided to open a drive-in on South Boulevard in Charlotte. The business boomed and the brothers opened another nearby in 1959. They leased the original location and made the Independence location their flagship. Over the years, the family would open and sell off other drive-ins across town, but offspring Maria and her husband, George Housiadas, have held on to the flagship icon.

You’ve heard the story before but it bears repeating—Greeks in the hamburger business. The Housiadas family is not alone. Many proud Greek families still own classic burger stands across America, namely the famous mini-chains of the Billy Goat of Chicago, Burger House of Dallas, and Crown Burger of Salt Lake City. Or the one-offs like Helvetia Tavern near Portland, Oregon, and Western Steakburger in San Diego. All of these restaurants were the result of hard-working Greeks finding their way in America.

Not surprisingly, most stories of Greek burger entrepreneurism in this country start the same way. “They came here with nothing,” Maria told me. “They didn’t know what else to do so they started flipping burgers and didn’t stop!” She told me that in the beginning the brothers would sell a few burgers, take the cash, run down the street to the Winn-Dixie supermarket, and buy another few pounds of ground beef. “Can you imagine if we did that today?” Maria pondered.

South 21 is the real deal. Expect carhops, window trays, and tasty, classic burgers. The burgers start as preformed fresh-ground four-ounce patties and can be ordered as singles or doubles. Make it a “Super Boy” and you will get two patties on a toasted white bun with chopped lettuce, onion, mustard, and tomato. If you want cheese, you’ll need to order the “Jumbo.” The burgers show up on your window tray with a large pickle speared to the top bun.

The fries at South 21 are great, but it’s the onion rings that have received decades of accolades. The kitchen at South 21 slices and breads fresh onion rings daily, tasty circles of deep fried goodness.

You’ll also notice an item on the menu that sounds almost cartoonish but is anything but—the “Fish-O-Burger.” Imagine two pieces of fresh (not frozen) lightly breaded and deep-fried trout served with tartar sauce on a toasted white bun. It’s a heavenly sandwich, especially for those who want to partake of the drive-in culture without the red meat.

One thing you may find odd about South 21 is the black fedora your carhop will be wearing as he clips the tray to your car window. It was part of a uniform that was retired about 20 years ago according to Maria. “The uniforms used to be absolutely ridiculous.” For years, carhops were required to wear what looked like a period carriage driver’s getup—a long red coat with two gold buttons and heavy black pants. “They looked nice,” Maria remembered, “but the carhops hated to wear them. The heavy material was really only comfortable in the three colder months of the year.”

South 21 still employs a hard-working staff of four; some have been at the drive-in for over 40 years. One of those is Nick, the Greek griddle master who has been flipping perfect patties at South 21 since 1971.

Late-night cruising is a thing of the past, as the last burgers are sold at 10 p.m. on weekends. Check the drive-in’s hours before you head out to South 21 to show off your ’66 Corvette Stingray.

Maria is at the drive-in every day to take orders and manage the staff. She seems confident in the quality of their fare and understands why people continue to patronize South 21. “Diehard fans tell people, ‘If you haven’t eaten there, you haven’t eaten.’”

 

 

T
his is not the well-known Texas burger chain you are thinking of. In fact, this What-A-Burger actually opened in 1950 in Virginia, the same year as the 700-store Whataburger chain, but both owners were unaware of the existence of the other. After a lawsuit brought more than 50 years later, the two chains agreed that they would not expand into each other’s territory and that was that. Today, the Texas based burger chain has expanded into eight states and Mexico but has stayed away from North Carolina and Virginia where a handful of What-A-Burgers still exist.

Eb Bost opened the first What-A-Burger in North Carolina in 1955. At one point, through the ownership of many members of the Bost family, there were up to fifteen locations in the Charlotte area. Today, Eb’s son Mike Bost is the president of the company and there are now five locations that still retain their original number in the chain (for example, the Mooresville location is still called No. 11). Some of the locations still offer curb service.

Built in 1965, the What-A-Burger of Mooresville is an authentic artifact of the drive-in era that sits just south of the main drag. Twenty-eight curb service stalls sit under a retro corrugated shelter and the dining room inside can hold up to a hundred hungry burger lovers.

The burgers at What-A-Burger are very wide, cooked on a flattop, and are made from fresh-ground beef. “The patties come in every morning from a butcher in town,” employee of 25 years Diane told me. They are served on soft white buns that have been toasted on a large press. The thin patty and the squashed, toasted bun make for a very flat but satisfying burger. If you are hungry, go for the “Double What-A-Burger.” Priced at under 4 dollars this half-pound burger could be the best deal going. There’s also a kid-sized What-A-Burger, a smaller version of the original.

You’d have to be a local to understand the baffling burger combinations that What-A-Burger offers. The signature “What-A-Burger” comes with shredded lettuce, sliced tomato, mustard, and onion. The “What-A-Cheeseburger” adds cheese, but mysteriously takes away the mustard. The “What-A-Salisbury” has no mustard, either, and no cheese and, follow me here, the “What-A-
Ham
burger” comes Southern Style
with mustard, coleslaw, and chili. In reality, you can get a burger any way you want it. Just ask.

On my first visit I was compelled to order a crazy sounding drink on the menu called the “Witch Doctor.” When I asked what was in the drink, through the muffled vintage drive-in speakerphone, I could not make out what the kitchen was telling me. All I could hear was, “Wah, wah waah, wah waaah.” When the drink appeared at my car I took a sip and tasted cherry and lime soda, and something savory. Then I opened the lid of the Styrofoam cup to find a wedge of lemon and three pickle slices floating in ice. The Witch Doctor, a drink that goes back five decades at What-A-Burger, is made by filling a cup with a little bit from each soda on the fountain. “There used to be a raw onion ring in there too,” Employee Jeff told me, and Diane added, “Some people still ask for the onion. Yuck.” Mike Bost told me, “The customers dreamed that one up a long time ago.” The drink was amazing with a flavor that was complex and refreshing. Just don’t make the mistake I made and take a sip hours later after the ice had melted and the pickles had marinated.