There is no disputing the hamburger’s place in America’s culinary heart.
It is part of our travels, a staple of backyard cookouts, the foundation of fast food empires -- a simple diner …
This item is available in full to subscribers.
We have recently launched a new and improved website. To continue reading, you will need to either log into your subscriber account, or purchase a new subscription.
If you are a digital subscriber with an active subscription, or you are a print subscriber who had access to our previous website, then you already have an account here. Just reset your password if you have not yet logged in to your account on this new site.
If you are a current print subscriber and did not have a user account on our previous website, you can set up a free website account by clicking here.
Otherwise, click here to view your options for subscribing.
Please log in to continue |
There is no disputing the hamburger’s place in America’s culinary heart.
It is part of our travels, a staple of backyard cookouts, the foundation of fast food empires -- a simple diner sandwich that can be dressed for occasions.
Chef’s have for years played with upscale adornments, from heirloom tomatoes to foie gras. So Lee Gustin at Blue Anchor Bistro couldn’t resist a surf and turf version.
His Maine Lobster Burger comes topped with shellfish and blueberry ketchup on a pretzel bun. While the ensemble may appear random, it plays like a well composed aria.
The patty itself is fundamental, just a strum of seasoning so the swarthy, rustic tone of red meat takes hold. There are notions of earth and a rough hewn nature that speaks of wide ranging grasslands.
At most restaurants the bun plays a supporting role. In this case, however, the unique savor of pretzel lends a tinge -- toasty with a twang -- that brings a layered depth to the burger.
Meanwhile sliced tomato and that blueberry ketchup trill with sweetness. The tomato is bright and fresh, while the berry is rich like jam.
In concert they play on either end of the scale. The blueberry ketchup complements the husky meat, calling out the musty sweet shards of lobster. Tomato provides bursts of refreshing soprano.
It’s a clever, appealing burger that captures your palate from the first low rumble of beef to the opulent lobster and the highs of blueberry.
Red meat, white shellfish and blueberry -- the all-American burger.
Oddly enough, the origins of the patty itself can be traced to Genghis Khan and his Mongol hordes. Riding across the endless Steppes, the horsemen packed meat under the saddle, where it was flattened and tenderized.
The Russians adopted this ground beef as steak tartare. By the 1600s, German sailors brought the dish with them and as trade spread later to the New World, a cooked version became known as Hamburg steak, after the German port city.
The hamburger as a sandwich was likely an American invention, although there are competing claims to first dibs.
Some say the first hamburger was served by a pair of brothers at New York’s Erie County Fair in 1885 when they ran short of sausages. Others say that when Charlie Nagreen’s meatballs weren’t selling at the Seymour Fair in Wisconsin that same year, he smashed them flat and put them on bread.
In 1891, a man named Oscar Welby in Bowdon, Oklahoma, supposedly thought to celebrate the Fourth of July by flame grilling patties and tossing them on sourdough buns. The Library of Congress backs a restaurant in New Haven, Connecticut, that began offering burgers between slices of toast in 1900.
That restaurant still stands, cooking meat on the same contraption.
Most will say the sandwich was popularized by a vendor at the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis (and that man -- Fletcher Davis -- insisted he had prepared them in Texas since the 1880s). The first restaurant that became a burger based chain was White Castle, which opened in 1921.
Cheeseburgers followed. Then Big Macs. And now almost anything goes, as long as it works as well as Chef Lee’s Maine Lobster Burger.