Bites of Life

I walked in to get my mind off a rough spell at work, dejected, moody jazz music seeming to float behind me like the early May rain. My gray day was bare and empty, waking up to the drone of my nine-to-five, six, seven, and later. Washing up on Houston Street, I ventured to a place where life was being lived, serving food that sings out in each bite of a great meal, an ode to the chef’s story and struggles. Hamburger America espouses the amazing idea that grease is a condiment more important than ketchup, converting the most avowed ketchup enjoyed into an adherent of their greasy gospel.

George Motz exemplifies a life well lived, grinning, and full of energy and purpose; he practically inspires you to eat when you walk through the door. Burgers smashed in a sizzling concert while mad-scientist-inspired buttering machines spin in the background. It was a rainy, grey day in the city that cast a pall over an already difficult week. A step onto the vinyl flooring, with yellow seats wrapped around the griddle counter and a bustling self-serve area in the back, hit you with the exact American nostalgia that Mr. Motz exhorts. He seeks to serve a burger not from the saddened and mass-produced counters of the fast food spot but the warm and happy mom and pops that birthed and innovated the burger. The kind servers greet you and make you feel at home with a Coke that, like the best places, tastes like the ones you have on a hot day, somehow more. 

The menu is lean, tight, simply constructed, and easy to digest. 3 burgers and a secret patty melt (ask for the Chester), and a supposedly delectable ham sandwich that seems to always lose out to one of those amazing burgers. The burgers, as the name suggests, are indeed the star of the show. Perfectly fatty and unburdened with ketchup, the regular burger can hold its own, but the Oklahoma onion burger, Motz’s claim to fame taken from the plains, is a revelatory experience. It’s a great awakening that balances the sweet, caramelized onion with crisped and juicy beef, compelling you to yell “Hallelujah!!” after a blessed bite. Nothing compares to this delight, even that rumored simple-yet-fabulous ham sandwich, so much so that I've visited multiple times and been unable to avoid ordering a double onion burger each time. As a critic, I apologize, but as a diner, I have no regrets. The transcendent experience of this burger blares out any guilt I have. Grease, onion, meat, and bun join together into a smashburger that should be prescribed for those seeking a miracle in patty form.

The sides play their part admirably, if a bit quietly. The fries pair well with the souped-up cola, offering shelter and saline neutrality to my voracious bites. Additionally, the key lime pie is a bit cloying and rich for my taste. My guess is the bakery added too much condensed milk, leaving the dish more as a sour flan than the light, refreshing delight I usually enjoy. Regardless, the sides do fall flat when compared with the mains; add-ons feel like pedestrian second thoughts to an otherwise impeccably planned menu. These dishes do well in a pinch, but they fall into the background like a bassist in a rock band, necessary but unnoticed.

  I grew up watching videos of George Motz pressing sizzling balls of ground beef, dreaming of what a burger from his griddle would taste like; now, I have the pleasure to announce he makes one of the best in the city. People like him show you that blazing your trail is more vibrant than stepping up the rungs of a corporate ladder. If you, like me, need an escape from the drudgeries of your life on a rainy day, step into Hamburger America and live.

4 Spoons