The Perfect Patty Melt

The classic patty melt, “the epitome of diner fare” according to HuffPo, has never been something I’ve paid much attention to. One time when I was a child I remember my stepfather suggesting I try one. What is it like? I asked him. It’s like a cheeseburger but on rye bread, he replied. I don’t remember what I ate that day, but I know it wasn’t a patty melt; that did not sound good to me at all. I’ve seen them on menus, sure, at various diners and burger shacks. A friend once raved about the patty melt at a sub sandwich shop a few blocks from my house, but I couldn’t be bothered to try it. Of course, that sandwich shop is the same one that when asked for a hot corned beef sandwich will stick the whole sandwich in a microwave–I’m not even sure they have a flat top grill.

Let me say up front, before I lose the patty melt fans among you–I was wrong. I’ve had some bad patty melts this month, and even a hybrid patty melt panini that I felt obligated to try since I’m covering both sandwiches this month. Full disclosure: this was one of the bad ones.

It doesn’t look bad, I’ll grant you that, and the onion rings were quite good. If this had been my only experience of a patty melt, I probably would not have changed my opinion of them. It came on some decent Italian bread, grilled well if a little dryly in a panini press, with melted American cheese and large rings of onion that weren’t all as well cooked as the battered and fried ones next to it. Something about the sandwich didn’t quite gel, though it was fine, and between Mindy and I we made quick work of it.

However, I have been to the top of the mountain. I now know the glory that a patty melt can be, and more, I know how to recreate that glory.

Friend of the site Mike Gebert published a “best patty melts in Chicago” piece on Thrillist a few years ago that gave me some ideas on where to start. Two of his picks stood out to me right away. First, there was Ceres Cafe, on the first floor of the Chicago Board of Trade building, 1 block from my office, purveyor of bar food and pourer of strong drinks for the financial crowd in downtown Chicago. It was the perfect place for me to get my feet wet in the patty melt world.

I stopped by for lunch one day, ordered a patty melt with fries, and sat down to lunch for once rather than take carryout back to my desk. The people-watching at Ceres is not terribly interesting, but I had a book (a study guide for an industry certification–I suppose I took my work with me after all) and the wait wasn’t long.

The melt came nearly buried in fries–good ones, fresh cut, with a little bit of skin on. The bread was seeded rye, with a nice but not overwhelming caraway bite. They used American cheese, both above and below the patty, with well-cooked and finely chopped grilled onions on the bottom.

Though the cut end of the patty appears to show a burger cooked medium or medium well, the patty was quite pink on the inside, more of a medium rare. There was a generous amount of cheese, gluing the patty and the onions to the insides of the bread. The sandwich as a whole hung together, without any sloppiness or things falling out. And it was hot! One thing I’ve noticed about patty melts is that if you start with a hot cooked burger patty, then griddle the whole sandwich, it retains a tongue-blistering amount of heat.

This sandwich wasn’t perfect, but it was really really good, and whet my appetite for further patty melt exploration.

That exploration came the following day, as I ventured to the second of the two patty melts that caught my eye in Mike G’s article. This particular patty melt is also listed among Ed Levine’s 5 favorite patty melts in the country, and is served by my favorite burger joint in the city.

Top Notch Beefburger on 95th St. in Beverly is one of those places that is always mentioned when great burgers in Chicago are being discussed–at least if they’re being discussed by people who realize the south side exists. It’s only a few blocks away from a Metra stop, and Mindy and I have been known to get off the train on our way home to enjoy a burger there from time to time, or drive up and take the whole family for dinner. It’s the kind of neighborhood place that hasn’t changed decor in 40 years, where waitresses call you “hon,” where there’s always a few cops eating–they tend to know the good places on their beat. Up until now, their single cheeseburger with grilled onions, pickles, ketchup and mustard has been my favorite burger in the city.

Look at those fries. They are among the best fries you will eat in the city. Many words have been written about these fries, about how they are fried in beef tallow rather than vegetable oil. For that matter, look at these onion rings.

Hand-battered and fried in that same oil, they are as good as an onion ring gets. Mindy and I usually split an order of each, because neither one of us wants to leave without eating both. The burger is the true star, though. The burgers at Top Notch are ground from beef leg meat on-site and simply taste beefier than any other burger I’ve had.

So what happens when you take that perfect burger and put it into a patty melt instead?

It doesn’t look like much, not at first, not from this angle. The bread is once again a seeded rye, seemingly cut a bit thicker than rye breads sometimes are, but not wildly so. The cheese is the same American cheese they use on their burgers, though other cheeses (Swiss, mozz, pepperjack, etc) are also available on request. Digging into the sandwich though, I begin to be reminded of the Jucy Lucy that we tried last year.

Look at that cheese! That melty gush of beefy oniony salty American cheese!

The Top Notch Beefburger patty melt not only taught me what a patty melt should be, but I may never order a regular burger from there again. Top Notch cuts their onions down to a nice small size and cooks them very well, caramelizing them somewhat, so that they are soft and brown and delicious. These onions don’t call attention to themselves or poke their way out through the bottom piece of bread, but their presence is felt through their flavor–this is a very oniony burger. They make the 5oz burger patty the right size and shape for the bread, not so thick that the top slice of bread is in danger of falling off while the bottom slice is disintegrating in burger juices. And they use plenty of good melty American cheese to hold the whole thing together. The Top Notch patty melt is a master class in how a sandwich can be greater than the sum of its parts. It’s simply a grilled cheese sandwich with a burger patty in the middle, sure, but the execution makes it so much more.

Armed with that knowledge, I set out to make my own version. I used Beefsteak Hearty Rye, Land O’Lakes deli-sliced American cheese, 80/20 ground sirloin, and 2 giant yellow onions that I cooked down in a griddle for about a half hour before starting, then kept warm over low heat while I prepared the sandwiches. I used about six ounces of ground beef per burger, rolled into an oval shape, seasoned with salt and pepper, then smashed down onto the griddle to make a nice flat thin patty. Buttered rye bread, 1.5 slices of American cheese, a couple of good spoonfuls of grilled onions spread over the bottom slices of cheese, another 1.5 slices of cheese melted on top of the patty, more buttered rye bread, then the whole sandwich griddled on both sides with a cover to trap some steam and melt the cheese even more.

My homemade patty melts were a huge hit with the whole family, and they weren’t terribly difficult to put together, but I’ll be honest–I’m still dreaming about the Top Notch version. I spent my whole life not ordering patty melts at every diner I could find, only to discover that a patty melt made right could be the perfect sandwich. I won’t wait that long to order another.