Hamburger Nation

I'm not much of a burger girl, frankly. I've never been much for red meat, a hold-over from my years of vegetarianism and being poor growing up. Red meat really isn’t on the menu when you’re on food stamps. I pretty much stuck with white meat and soy protein sources, that is, until I found DuMont Burger.

DuMont Burger was a little teeny tiny burger joint in my Brooklyn neighborhood that I watched grow from a hole-in-the-wall to an entity that took up two storefronts, no small feat on Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg. That’s some pricey real estate. I can’t exactly remember how I stumbled upon DuMont Burger, but I do remember many a winter night spent dialing them up for delivery, waiting anxiously for the underfed musician delivery guy to show up on his bike. I always tipped a little extra.

DuMont Burgers were miraculous. If you were really, truly a friend of mine, then I showed my devotion by taking you to DuMont. Every single person I dated was introduced to DuMont, me tugging on their hands anxiously, like “WAIT until you taste these burgers...” Unless they were vegans. Because that would have been awkward.

DuMont didn’t do anything but burgers and the normal habiliments therin, and I’m convinced the specialization is what made them so good. That and the fact that they stayed open until 2am, and after a cold night out drinking and trekking around, nothin’ says lovin’ like a juicy burger in your stomach.

When I left Brooklyn, I mourned the loss of my DuMont burgers as much as I lamented the end of endive salads at Fiore. Those people knew me by name, and used to jokingly call themselves my dealers. Which would be funny, except that I ate one every day for about 3 months. That makes it a little closer to true.

I never thought I’d find another burger to love as much as my DuMont burgers, but lo and behold, just when I was convinced I’d be back to white meat for good, I found Char-Grill in Raleigh.

Something I noticed right away is that they start making your burger after you order it, instead of pulling it from one of those mini tanning beds where it’s been sunning itself all afternoon. Then they actually flame broil it, cooking in those old school diner caps and sort of hopping around to the retro tunes playing in the background. I typically spend ten minutes humming along to Buddy Holly and staring at the photos on the wall of my dream car: a ’66 Mustang, you know, before they changed the body style.

The burgers are juicy and traditional, tasting just like I’m sure they did back in 1958. There are no fancy condiments or spicy pickled garnishes. Just a burger with lettuce and tomato, which I always get with a chocolate shake after my archery lesson across the street. The Char-Grill tagline is “Simpler Times, Simpler Choices,” and I think, thanks for making it so easy on me, Char-Grill...