Smashed Burgers: Everything Old is New Again

There are a lot of different kinds of burgers out there. Different foodie websites have classified them different ways: Thrillist’s 16 Regional American Burger Styles, Serious Eats’ Guide to Hamburger and Cheeseburger Styles, First We Feast’s Taxonomy of Burger Styles. Even Wikipedia, source of our own List, has a completely separate List of hamburgers that I kind of now want to explore. (Get through this list first, Jim!)

And I gotta tell you, I’m a fan of most of those I’ve tried. Grilling a fat hand-formed patty (or even a cheapo shaped frozen patty) in my backyard is a staple of the warmer months (and I’ve even been known to fire up the grill midwinter when the jones hits me); a big medium rare pub burger sure hits the spot with a beer or three to chase it down; I’m happy wolfing down several sliders when the mood takes me, or a big stack of meat-and-fancy-toppings if I’m taking a long lunch (and don’t have much to do that afternoon). Just the other night, I tried a loose approximation of the New Mexican green chile burger and though it was a frozen patty I bought at Aldi, I thought it was pretty good, salty, spicy, and moist, but with a bit of a springy sausagey texture. There’s a few I haven’t had, but overall, hey, burgers are pretty great, right?

Given my choice though, in a world of burgers, the one I’ll choose over and over again is the old-fashioned (but suddenly hot again), Midwestern, crisp-on-the-outside, soft-in-the-middle, lacy-edged smashed griddled burger.

The best burger I’ve ever had, bar none, was a double cheeseburger from a small central Illinois chain called Krekel’s which operates in Springfield and Decatur. These are small, thin patties of the 6-or-8-to-a-lb variety, and a single is fine. In fact a single is better than fine. But the burger really comes alive with that second patty on top (see J. Kenji Lopez-Alt’s writeup here but really, who doesn’t like a double cheeseburger?). I never did get a photo of the double, but check out the edges on this single with cheese.

Single cheeseburger from Krekel’s in Decatur

Last year around this time, I visited my sister in Nashville and stopped along the way to get lunch with my brother who happened to be in Indianapolis at the time. We had a very good example of the type at Workingman’s Friend, where they separate the 2 quarter pound patties with a central section of bun, like an infinitely better version of a Big Mac.

“Giant” double cheeseburger, Working Man’s Friend, Indianapolis

Here in south Chicagoland, the place to go for a smashed burger is Schoop’s, a venerable mini chain scattered around Northwest Indiana with a few locations in Illinois as well. I’d been to the Schoop’s in Hammond, Indiana several times, but I had also heard good things about the Munster location. As I was going to be picking up some adult beverages from nearby Three Floyds Brewing one Saturday, the lovely Mindy and I stopped by Schoop’s for lunch afterwards.

Schoop’s in Munster, IN

Schoop’s has a retro diner look inside, all chromed rails and bright green barstools, with a gorgeous (but sadly plastic) Wurlitzer that anachronistically spins nonstop 80s hits.

Classic looking Wurlitzer jukebox

Mindy and I sat at a table by the window and ordered a burger each, an order of fries and an order of onion rings to split, with plans to get a milkshake afterwards. (They serve the soft drink Green River and also have a Green River-flavored shake, which appealed to us).

My burger was the “Micky,” their standard 1/3 lb patty with 2 slices of cheese. I ordered it with “everything” which at Schoop’s means ketchup, mustard, onion, and pickle relish.

The Mickey from Schoop’s with everything

Mindy had their regular cheeseburger–also 1/3 lb, but with only 1 slice of cheese–and ordered hers with everything and everything else, which added pickle chips, mayonnaise, lettuce, and tomato.

Regular Schoops cheeseburger with everything + everything else

But back up a minute. Let’s take another look at my burger.

The Mickey from Schoop’s with everything

Look at that crust, how impossibly thin the edges are. Look at the deep brown color of the meat’s surface. The burger thickens toward the center, and where the edges are cracklingly crisp, the middle has a deeply beefy and moist core that’s enhanced by the flavors introduced by the Maillard reaction. A burger as excellent as this requires both a skilled grillman and a highly seasoned griddle. Perhaps this is why the newer Schoop’s locations are less highly-thought-of: newer griddles that need to be better broken in? Grillmen who have not learned their trade as well?

Everything else was excellent as well. Mindy thought the onions rings were decent, but I thought they were an excellent rendition, battered and crisp, with that well-cooked and moist but not mushy center that the best onion rings have.

Schoop’s onion rings

Even better were the fries, or “Schoop’s Loops,” an order of seasoned curly fries that comes in a basket begging to be shared.

“Schoop’s Loops” curly fries

Schoop’s is a lot of burger. Add in an order of fries and onion rings and even splitting them between 2 people, we simply could not continue with our plan of ordering a milkshake. I guess that means we’ll have to go back soon.

Krekel’s is still the gold standard when it comes to smashed burgers as far as I’m concerned, and I plan on visiting again soon when rolling through the Decatur/Springfield area (which I often do when I’m visiting my family downstate). But I’m glad to have Schoop’s around. I only wish I could get a burger this good downtown. They’d have my business regularly.

Jim Behymer

I like sandwiches.

I like a lot of other things too but sandwiches are pretty great