In Which the Best of It’s Kind is Eaten, and Compared…

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the best onion burgers are made in El Reno, OK. The very same El Reno Eric knew as a kid, hanging out with his dad, who had been a research scientist at the laboratories out at the old Fort. On my first visit to OK, in 2014, Eric had driven me out of Norman, on to iconic Route 66, and out to Fort Reno. Outside of the town proper sprawls gently rolling plains, and after driving a long way down (up?) the entrance road, we came upon well-preserved, white-washed buildings, complete with shiny brass plaques commemorating historical things. We bypassed the museums and Visitor Center in favor of the Civil War era cemetery. We stood in the dry, blowing wind, beating sun, and silence, amid stones memorializing the soldiers and civilians, Indians, and servants that had died there.

And that was the moment I remembered about that visit. The quiet spaciousness. The in-the-middle-of-nowhere small town with a bit of history and a government-run, high tech agricultural research laboratory.

The second visit, however, was all about the onion burger.

Now, I didn’t realize there was a separate category in the hamburger world devoted to this specific take on grilled meat with bread. The concept behind the burger is simple and direct. Wisps of white onion are set upon the flat top to soften and brown. Once the thin patties are turned to cook the second side, they are smashed down ruthlessly with the spatula, and yes, much juice is lost, but the technique yields other spoils. The burger meat is lightly packed, and so when smashed, the loose strands of meat cook up crispy, and caramelized bits of fat are found in every bite. The onions are then scooped up, placed on top of the patty, and the pile is given a healthy smash, driving them into the meat itself. Expertly charred bits, along with soft, melty bits, and juicy fatty bits. And a no frills, soft white bun serving one purpose only- to provide a convenient delivery system for one of the simplest and most delicious burger combinations. And pickles on the side.

The acclaimed onion burger can trace its origin back to the days of the Dust Bowl, and when Route 66 was full of people traveling to find work. Americans were reeling from economic disasters running the breadth of the country, from the arid and thirsty farmland to the east coast banks and cities. Everything is expensive when you have no work and burger meat was no exception. And so an enterprising restaurant owner named Ross Davis invented a way to cater to the folks driving through El Reno on their way to somewhere else. The onion burger was born as a method to stretch meat further by adding cheap, easy to come by onions into the mix. 

We began our El Reno onion burger tour at Sid’s Diner, a restaurant of renown, according to the Food Network and various other foodies. The space has the classic diner set up- long counter, with only three tables, and two booths in the main sitting area. The counter is absolutely where you want to be. We crammed ourselves onto a couple of barstools with much anticipation. The action was about four feet away, and there was an electric hum about the folks who work together there. They have a way of moving around each other that looks like they’ve done this a time or two- dance-like, graceful. They move with purpose. It is loud, and it is hot, and things move very fast. I loved every second of watching them work.

The first bite of my first onion burger was a moment to remember. It was instantly clear why such a fuss has been made about this recently discovered, but long-lived traditional burger. The taste of the char on the onions was perfectly balanced by the fattiness, juiciness, and crispy brownness of the meat. 

I suppose I should at least mention the chocolate malt and tater tots with cheese. The chocolate malt was a thing of nostalgic childhood beauty- it was all I ever wanted in a chocolate malt. Thick and creamy, deep, rich chocolate flavor, and I unapologetically devoured mine, and finished off Eric’s when his back was turned. The tater tots with cheese were exactly that, the cheese being a slice of orange American. Satisfying in all it’s straightforward greasy crispiness.

All told, my first onion burger experience lasted about 20 minutes. Once the fare was consumed, no need to linger. We had other stops to make. And so we rambled on out to the car, and drove 2 minutes across town to Johnnie’s. This restaurant also boasts a position on several “Best of” lists in the onion burger category, and so we were looking forward to comparing the offering here to from where we had just come.

As soon as we walked in, I was struck by how different the atmosphere was here. A large family sat at the counter, and the cooks at the grill ambled their way through the orders, without the high-pitched pace and excitement we had found at Sid’s. Also unlike Sid’s, Johnnie’s has ample seating in a wide, high ceilinged dining area. Eric and I made our way to a booth at the back and prepared ourselves for feasting.

We kept our order here identical to what we had ordered at Sid’s, just to keep things fair. The menus were remarkably similar anyway- the only difference coming in the form of cheese that was to grace our tots. After a brief discussion with our server, we decided to go with a Johnnie’s specialty, liquid cheese instead of the ubiquitous slice.

The atmosphere here was calm, and we sat back and took a few deep breaths. There were some pictures on the wall, hearkening back to the glory days of old Route 66. Is it possible to feel nostalgic for something you never yourself knew? I was imagining all the hungry journeyers that had come through this town, finding delight in the deliciously simple burgers, worth every penny they had to spare.

The food came, and I was struck by how nearly identical our burgers were here to those we had at Sid’s. Right down to the three pickles on the side. I will say, though, that these offerings from Johnnie’s didn’t quite stand up to Sid’s in one important way- the meat and onions here seemed to be almost steamed in places, and therefore lacking the flavor and depthness of char. We managed to eat nearly all of our burgers, some of the tots, and not very much of our milkshake- an overly thick, strangely flavorless mixture.

As we bellied our way back to the car, we briefly debated walking the short three blocks or so to our third and final burger destination, Robert’s. However, there was weather coming, and when there’s weather coming in Oklahoma, you get out of the way. So over to Bickford Avenue, and Robert’s Grill.

Robert’s has been around since 1926, and as far as I could tell, nothing much about the place has changed. Other than the TV hanging from one corner, the walls were bare. There is only counter seating here, conveniently located three steps or so from the door. But what Robert’s lacks in decor it makes up for in smalltown, rural Americaness. The cook was welcoming and friendly, going about his work- frying up orders, answering the phone, communicating with the other worker there, all the while keeping up conversation with us, and the few other eaters that had joined us. We were clearly the only ones in the place from away, and here the vibe was of a true locals place. As the skies grew blacker, the conversation turned to the impending storm, and tales of weather past. How interesting that people the world over are universally interested in talking about the weather. Those of us who live in areas of extreme weather, even more so. I know from living in the Kingdom that when we hit -40 in the winter, all anyone wants to talk about is the cold. Here, in Tornado Alley, stories of wind and rain prevail. I suppose weather is something that is indiscriminate; we bond over experiencing the same conditions that we cannot control. I settled into my barstool, comforted by the ebbs and flows of the familiar conversation around me.

The pangs of burgers number 1 and 2 had started, and I became worried about the prospects of any fair judgement being had at this point. However,  I was determined to see the burger tour through. Consider it a testament to the tastiness of the onion burger that despite my abdominal distress, I was still ready for more. We ordered two more straight-up onion burgers, but fries this time, as they were out of tater tots. Sadly, we couldn’t do the fries justice, as we saved what precious belly room we had left for the burgers. And again, we were delighted with juicy deliciousness. 

 

On the return journey to Norman, as my stomach buckled down for some serious digesting, I wondered about how Sid’s had managed to accrue the lion’s share of the onion burger world’s adoration. Strictly judging the food, I would say that Robert’s was just as good as Sid’s, with Johnnie’s next. But there was no question that the atmosphere at Sid’s was exactly what you picture when you think of the quintessential American diner experience. It has nothing of the staged attempt at authenticity of a corporate take on a diner experience, because it actually really is the diner experience. With soul satisfying food. And if I were a food TV exec searching for a location to highlight the phenomenon of the onion burger, Sid’s has the energy I would want to capture. And that’s all there is to it. I think.

And as we braved the torrential downpour and near gale force winds(at least that’s what they felt like to this northeasterner), I continued to marvel at the treasure of the humble onion burger. For something like $56, Eric and I consumed 6 burgers, 2 orders of tater tots with cheese, one order of french fries with cheese, 1 chocolate malt, and 1 chocolate milkshake. For our investment we discovered a food new to us, got to know a different side of the El Reno from Eric’s childhood, made positive connections with strangers through our shared experience of being in the world in the same place, at the same time, and best of all, we got to do it all with each other 🙂