EAT + DRINK 34 MONTEREY COUNTY WEEKLY AUGUST 29-SEPTEMBER 4, 2024 www.montereycountynow.com For something so fundamental, the hamburger can be quite complicated. Unlike America’s other summer holiday favorite, there are no hard and fast rules governing the sandwich. Ketchup on a hot dog? That’s a serious faux pas. But on a burger, go for it. There are also other toppings to consider, not to mention the bread of choice. Even the preparation is a matter of opinion. At American Burger in Monterey, a trip through the 23 burgers on the menu—24 if you include the patty melt—might start with the simplicity of ground beef between two slices of bread, but there are waysides of garlic, onions and shrimp, or peanut butter studded with jalapeño or even a patty supporting bacon and a hot dog. “You can put all kinds of things on a burger,” observes Josie Lewis, chef at Other Brother Beer Co. in Seaside. “It’s super versatile. Go crazy.” That said, Lewis prefers less insanity between the bun—just lettuce and tomato. And such appears to be the general trend. After two decades of overloaded burgers teetering on the plate, chefs and diners are returning to the basics. “Mushrooms. If you want, I’ll put it on. Bacon, if you want, I’ll put it on,” says Fabian di Paolo of Carmel’s Shearwater Tavern. “But my burger is this: simple and super tasty. It’s all about the flavor, not how much you can put on it.” Yet there remains little consensus, otherwise—even on the patty itself. Chuck is the most common cut found in burgers and grocery packages of ground beef, prized for its lean-to-fat meat ratio. But it’s also a tough piece. Chefs prefer to blend in meat from silkier cuts, or ditch chuck altogether. At Sardine Factory in Monterey, for example, a blend of sirloin and short rib goes into the grinder. For the ground beef pack sold at The Meatery in Seaside (as well as prepared by Carmel Valley’s Bear + Flag Roadside), Chef Todd Fisher uses well-marbled Wagyu, pieces of husky dry-aged, lean but flavorful grass-fed, all trimmed from steaks sold at the shop. “Chefs tend to use one or two cuts,” di Paolo explains. “I did chuck and brisket, but I was missing flavor. So I threw oxtail into my blend.” This gives it an earthier, dusky savor. “I don’t see many people using oxtail,” he adds. “But it is real beef flavor, and I love it.” The classic American hamburger is more than a meal. It’s a sensory experience, from the sizzle of the grill to the rich, smoky aroma of caramelizing meat to the cushy fat, dribbling from a thick patty, coating the palate so that the burger’s rugged character lingers. Mash the patty and precious juices will be lost. At American Burger, owner Jose Miguel and his team pace the meat with care from an open-flame broiler to the flattop. “You want to let the meat cook slow,” he once told the Weekly. “You want the juices.” Yet the sandwich is convenience. It gained popularity at the 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair and became a staple at roadside diners through the 1920s and ’30s. One of the first quick-service chains—White Castle—made burgers their focus. It was at a Kentucky diner sometime in the ’20s, so the story goes, when a hurried line cook began smashing burgers into the cooking surface. “We do a smash burger,” says Lewis at Other Brother. “They cook really quickly.” The smash burger concept gained popularity not only for speed, but also because it creates a crispy char—bittersweet and crackling, adding more texture and a distinct flavor. Del Monte Grill serves one, as does Sea Root. And, Lewis points out, “It’s one of the best things we do here.” Fats pressed from the smash burger help fry the crust. According to Lewis, the trick to a good smash burger is a higher fat ratio. While many chefs prefer 80-20 lean to fat, she looks for closer to 70-30. Anything less, and the meat is at risk of overcooking. Fisher, whose grind is more like 65-35, depending upon the day, claims to appreciate both styles of burger. But he would prefer smashing austere cuts than the wealthy Wagyu. And while di Paolo is no fan of smash burgers, he realizes the importance of all of that opulence dripping from the patty. That’s why he prefers a flattop to a backyard-style grill when cooking burgers. Whether slowly fried or smashed, juices season the surface. “The more the flattop is used, the better the burger,” he explains. What drips from an outdoor grill into the fire may yield benefits indirectly, through blackened score marks or smoke. On a flattop, however, “You are using the fat.” Cheese is perhaps the most common addition to a burger. But again, there are variables. American is popular for its low melting point and consistency. As a mild—almost timid—cheese, it doesn’t contribute much else. The team at Whaling Station Steakhouse (where they grind exclusive prime beef) layer on tangy, creamy Swiss cheese. For di Paolo at Shearwater, an aged and smoked gouda complements the swarthy meat. “We do sharp cheddar,” Lewis reports. “It’s my go-to cheese.” Perhaps it’s because of this versatility that the burger has become an all-American, a staple of summer holidays like Labor Day—and pretty much any day. Americans consume 50 billion burgers a year. It is at home at casual backyard cookouts as well as fine dining establishments. It is the part of the roadside landscape and a feature at county fairs. The burger can be simple or exotic. There are even regional styles, such as Minnesota’s Juicy Lucy or the deep fried version found in Tennessee. “I haven’t tried those,” Lewis admits. “You’re giving me ideas.” One For All Dolled up, smashed, smothered in cheese—there is little agreement about the simple burger. By Dave Faries “My burger is this: simple and super tasty.” El Estero Snack Bar serves a classic burger and cheeseburger at El Estero Park. Stephanie and Peter Bruno (below), owners of El Estero Snack Bar, have been serving classic burgers and cheese burgers for generations. DANIEL DREIFUSS DANIEL DREIFUSS
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