Cover Story
When we set out to find the best burger in Nashville, we knew it would be a physical undertaking, if only because digesting all that cow would tax even the most athletic colon.
But nobody expected the Great Burger Challenge to be such a head game.
Imagine 10 overly opinionated people debating what makes a burger good. Is it the beef? The bun? The condiments? The restaurant environment? The level of intoxication? The hour? The price?
You might as well ask what makes America good. Surely the essence of burger is linked to unique personal experience—Friday in the school cafeteria, a childhood visit to A&W, Dad’s Brillo patties from the backyard Weber. Such existentialist thinking likely prompted author Calvin Trillin to say that anyone who doesn’t think that the best hamburger comes from his own hometown is a sissy.
Furthermore, imagine that same dogmatic group clambering for consensus over what actually constitutes a burger in the first place: Cheese? Bacon? Mayo? Does it have to have a bun? Can it be on French bread? Rare, medium or well done?
And, of course, there was the matter of contenders. With hundreds of burgers available across Nashville, who would get a berth in the Great Burger Challenge?
For a few days, we kept a running list of burgers we really like. There were some unlikely choices and there were some omissions, but no suggestion was rejected, with the exception of the obsolete McDLT and various veggie burgers. (To paraphrase Trillin, anyone who doesn’t think the best hamburger comes from a cow is a sissy.)
Eventually, we drafted a list of 16 much-loved contenders. To put the burgers on equal footing—i.e., to eliminate variables such as condiments, environment and intoxication—we ordered them all medium, with “The Works.” (If given a choice of cheese, we picked cheddar.) Then, sober and armed with debit cards and portable angioplasty kits, we set out across town to collect and deliver the burgers to the Scene’s conference room at high noon.
As we rooted through grease-stained bags and squeaky Styrofoam containers of silver-wrapped burgers, a few early leaders emerged. There was the Ombi burger, whose charismatic combination of posh condiments earned it the moniker Obama Burger. And there was the unpretentious Edgefield specimen, dubbed the HuckaBurger, because, like former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee, it seemed to come out of nowhere.
There were some surprises: Rotier’s, Bobbie’s Dairy Dip and Brown’s Diner all fell into the unremarkable pile, perhaps illustrating the importance of restaurant ambiance in the overall burger experience. (Or maybe we just caught them on an off day.) The Palm’s burger was an expensive disappointment, and, well, nobody really liked Cheeseburger Charley’s.
Wading through the beef and bread, we isolated the following characteristics of good burgers:
Variety of color: An all-brown burger—even if it comprises delicious brown bacon and brown caramelized onions—is boring. Lettuce, tomato and yellow cheese are there for a reason.
Crisp lettuce: The lettuce leaf’s role is texture, and since arugula, frisée and prissy micro-greens can’t stand the heat, stick with an unpretentious frond of iceberg or romaine.
Element of surprise: A burger is a commodity combination of—cue the music—all-beef patties, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame-seed bun. So if at least one aspect is exceptional or unexpected (think wasabi mayo, bacon aioli, homemade pickles and kick-ass bacon), the sandwich can really stand out.
Manageability: If you can’t fit your chops around a burger and its components in one bite, some portion of the sandwich invariably will land on your body—in which case the burger will taste unbalanced, and you will look like a slob. Unless you use a fork, in which case you will look like a tool.
Taking into consideration these and many other data, including which burgers were devoured immediately and which ones made it to the leftovers free-for-all in the break room, we whittled the Sweet 16 down to five superior contenders: Ombi, PM, Radius10, Edgefield Sports Bar & Grill and Five Guys Burgers and Fries. (See sidebars for details of all burgers.)
Over a couple of days, we brought the burgers back for follow-up tastings. Much to our surprise, Ombi fell out of the running when our revisit fell far short of the expectations set in the primary. With four burgers left in the competition, we found ourselves drawing lines between the Classics (Edgefield and Five Guys) and the Newcomers (PM and Radius10), which added gourmet embellishments to the standard burger trappings.
We selected finalists from both categories. PM took the Newcomer honors, while Edgefield nosed out Five Guys for the Classic title. We unanimously agreed that Radius10 beat out Five Guys for third place. That left the final cut between the spicy, unconventional PM burger—peppered with zingy Asian spices and laced with wasabi mayo—and the all-American burger’s burger from Edgefield, comfortably cushioned in a soft sesame bun and generously lubricated with mayo.
Both were excellent. But when we asked ourselves the likely hypothetical, “Hey, I’m going out to grab some burgers, where do you want me to go?” the general consensus was...
PM
PM
$7 with side salad, fries, chips or wasabi peas
When
we set out to find the beefy paragon of burgerdom, we did not expect to
find it next to baby octopus salad, sesame brown-butter halibut and
kaffir-dusted duck curry. But Arnold Myint’s Asian-inspired treatment
of the classic American chopped-steak sandwich blew the competition
away. An 8-ounce patty, infused with minced onions sauteed in butter,
hits the olive-oiled grill to order and, at just the right second, gets
licked with a glaze of minced garlic, Thai sweet chili sauce and fruit
juice. Flame-kissed to caramelized perfection, the burger cuddles up on
a soft multigrain kaiser roll from Provence, beneath a green swath of
romaine, pink onions and a schmear of wasabi mayonnaise. The result is
a tender sandwich that melts in your mouth, leaving a decadent trail of
sweetness and a faintly fiery kick. Add-ons of cheese and sautéed wood
ear mushrooms and shiitakes are available but unnecessary, since the
standard version packs so much flavor and texture. A master of
unexpected details, Myint delivers steak fries that would hold their
own against any in town if the Scene were ever to conduct a
spudstakes. A favorite breezy hangout for sipping Chai-tinis and
nibbling sushi on the patio while watching the Belmont traffic stroll
by, PM now holds the blustery title for Best Burger in Nashville. —Carrington Fox
Edgefield Sports Bar & Grill
Edgefield Sports Bar & Grill
$6.25 with potato chips
If
you’re an East Nashvillian who’s had it with the hipsterized,
trendalicious gentrification of your ’hood, the Edgefield is for you.
First, there aren’t many places in Nashville where you can still enjoy
the pleasures of secondhand smoke. And in a town with more than a few
admirable down-and-dirty burgers, the Edgefield cheeseburger is a notch
above. It’s decidedly old-school: a hand-formed patty topped with
lettuce, tomato, onion, pickle, one slice each of American and Swiss,
and...mayo. We know, the lube of the gods may disgust you
health-conscious types—what the hell are you doing eating a hamburger
anyway, sprout-heads?—but the ubiquitous egg yolk/vegetable oil
emulsion gives this bodacious bundle of bovine a divinely saucy
decadence. The soft grilled bun only ratchets up the artery-taunting
ecstasy. It’s kind of like a Big Mac, but really good. In fact, it’s so
wrong it’s a turn-on—this is the burger Eliot Spitzer would order. (Of
course, he’d order takeout, and use George Fox’s name.) —Jack Silverman
Radius 10
Radius10
$10 with a side of herbed steak fries
Even though Radius 10 is right by the Scene’s
office and would seem to have an unfair advantage in being fresher than
other burgers in a taste test, it still had to sweat it out in its
plastic carry-out container until the other burgers arrived for
tasting. Even after its sauna, the 10 Burger was still the most
beautifully presented, with a square beef patty reminiscent of Wendy’s
peeking out beyond the edges of a golden kaiser roll. The lead of the
toppings was the salad of onions and homemade pickles that added a tang
more powerful than the fresh tomato, a cameo that added more color than
flavor. The sweet-and-smoky elixir of bacon aioli added enough moisture
that no other condiment was required, and a generous tangle of arugula
added texture while standing up to the other powerful flavors. Aged
cheddar was the perfect encore to every bite. With a medley of toppings
that would make a fine sandwich on their own, the 10 Burger pushed it
to 11 with a patty cooked to a perfect medium—a superb star among a
remarkable ensemble cast. —Brent Rolen
Five Guys
Five Guys
$4.79
Were
it not a national chain, no-frills upstart Five Guys might have taken
home the greasy gold. But even though hometown pride led our judges to
give the D.C.-based burger mill a good ol’ down-home knee-capping, it’s
still as close to a grill-out aorta-buster as you’re likely to get at a
counter. Tightly wrapped in plain old aluminum foil, the regular
cheeseburger comes with two brawny patties and free works ranging from
mustard to A-1 sauce and jalapeños. Skip the grilled mushrooms, which
just made the already unwieldy burger a soggy mess: if our tasters had
any gripe, apart from the jaw-defying thickness of the thing, it was
that Five Guys’ burger is too juicy. Do not, however, skip the steamy walnut-brown fries ($2.39), an overflowing Styrofoam cup of grease-staining goodness. —Jim Ridley
|
---------------------------Advertisement---------------------------
|
|
---------------------------Advertisement---------------------------
|
Hardee’s
$4.99 combo (includes drink and fries)
“Try
the Thickburger,” our glassy-eyed gluttons gurgled. So we did. And
friends, that first bite is fast-food burger heaven—mouth-filling,
succulent, with a big-dicked beefy flavor that elbows aside the bun,
the condiments and the impressively fresh veggies. But then you take a
second bite, and a third—and as one judge eloquently put it, “It’s like
your mouth is getting crop-dusted with some kind of beef-flavor
additive.” Even so, this is no Big Mac full of ash-gray beer-coaster
patties. That Hardee’s chargrilled taste you recall from childhood has
survived intact. Hell, thanks to the eggheads in Hardee’s food lab,
it’ll probably haunt the Earth long after the cockroach. —Jim Ridley
Ombi
$13 regular with foie gras; $9 special, with side of fries
Good
looking, charismatic and modern, the Ombi candidate earned the moniker
Obama Burger and took an early lead in the voting. A yeasty grilled bun
loaded with a juicy patty, gooey goat cheese, herbed mayo, arugula and
what can only be described as the Best Bacon We’ve Ever Eaten, O.B.
blew away the primary competition. But exit polling from the round of
16 would just as soon have predicted Dewey over Truman. As it turned
out, this bacon-topped symphony of sweet and savory flavors, crispy and
gooey textures was not the standard Ombi burger, but rather a daily
special. To compare the standard to the special, we ordered both for
the final round, and we were doubly disappointed. The special arrived
with no bacon and miserly amounts of the toppings that had wooed us the
first time. The standard burger, grilled with foie gras inside and
topped with caramelized onions, was a monochromatic lump with a
liver-tinged aftertaste reminiscent of a Krystal. After touting Ombi as
the likely winner, we ate our words, while leaving a fair amount of
expensive burger with goose guts on the table. —Carrington Fox
The Grill at Green Hills
$7 with side of fried plantains
Granted,
for a good old-fashioned gutbomb, you probably wouldn’t pick a place
with an entire aisle of designer yogurt. But ever since Whole Foods’
in-store grill opened last fall, we’d been hearing the joint had a
killer burger. Add to that abundant fresh produce and lots of healthy,
free-range and organic alternatives, and we were fired up. Well…perhaps
our expectations were a little lofty. With only one employee to take
orders and a single burger-flipping octopus to cook them, our medium
burger with Swiss cheese, lettuce and tomato came back overdone, bland
and dry as parched desert—albeit with good tomato, crisp lettuce and an
extremely shiny egg-washed bun. But great veggies do not make up
for lackluster meat. Next time, a chicken wrap—or maybe a post-yogurt
sneak across the street to Five Guys. —Brian Miles
Rotier’s
$4.50
With
its memento-covered bar and nostalgia-stained vinyl booths, Rotier’s is
proof that the unselfconscious trappings of a well-loved diner can do
more for a burger than all the Kobe beef and homemade ketchup in the
world. Slightly dry, with standard-issue toppings of tomato, lettuce,
pink onion, cheddar, mayo and mustard, the classic Rotier’s burger
didn’t hold up under the fluorescent scrutiny of conference-room
lighting. Taken out of its legendary—and formerly smoke-filled
habitat—it was just another burger. But that’s where the sterile
methodology of taste-testing breaks down. There’s a reason that
Rotier’s is top-of-mind in any conversation about burgers—or shakes or
fried pickles, for that matter. Served on a bun, white or wheat toast,
or French bread, the Rotier’s burger, like it’s surroundings, is an
institution. —Carrington Fox
Fat Mo’s
$5.88 with side of spicy fries
We
knew something was amiss when the drive-through window opened
unexpectedly and we received our Fat Mo’s burger almost immediately
after ordering it. Never in our many, many trips to the Nashville
institution had our gratification been so instant—or so, well,
ungratifying. Where Fat Mo’s is normally one of our favorite local
burgers, this specimen limped into the competition. Sure, the signature
peppery beef was nicely seasoned, and the tangy, savory tangle of
lettuce, tomato, onion, pickle, mayo, mustard and American cheese was
present and accounted for, but on the whole, the sandwich looked a
little pale, tasted like an under-heated leftover and was not at all
the gut-busting delicacy to which we’ve become accustomed. While this
surprising dip in quality was an aberration in our experience, our beef
bracket had no room for excuses. As a result, perennial powerhouse Fat
Mo’s was, sadly, one and done in the tourney. —Steve Haruch
12 South Tap Room
$10.38 with side of mashed potatoes
The
prospect of a burger with bacon and avocado inspired plenty of interest
among our team of tasters, but initial excitement gave way to thoughts
of the next burger in line. It’s not that the 12 South burger wasn’t
good—it was tasty—it just came off a little flat. In a blindfold test,
most people probably wouldn’t have guessed at the presence of avocado
(though it was nice and fresh). The overwhelming reaction to the burger
was a shrug, followed by a quizzical look at the patty: “Wait, what’s
in there?” Guesses ranged from parsley to cilantro to chicory, but no
one could say for sure. There was definitely something blended into the
ground beef, and it imparted a flavor that, while not offensive, wasn’t
exactly endearing, either. Overall, this sturdy burger topped with
tomato, green-leaf lettuce, red onion, bacon and cheddar probably would
have benefited from a pint of one of the Tap Room’s many fine beers—not
unlike our tasters. —Steve Haruch
Bobbie’s Dairy Dip
$6.35 with small order of sweet potato fries
There’s
something about the kitschy decor at the classic drive-in burger joint
Bobbie’s Dairy Dip that just makes the fare that much tastier. But away
from the ambient glow of Wendell Smith’s neon sign across the street,
the no-frills hamburger was lackluster, to say the least. The
surprisingly dry beef patty was topped with the typical lettuce,
tomato, red onion and mayonnaise, but a handful of jalapeños added a
welcome kick. Given the time of year, we’ll overlook the sorry excuse
for a tomato, which was light pink, mealy and flavorless. The tasting
team was unexpectedly underwhelmed by the burger, but we’d like to
think this dining experience was an anomaly, and that perhaps the
burger simply does not travel well. So we recommend soaking up the
nostalgia at this pink-and-green pastel paradise while dining on the
patio. Be sure to add a side of sweet potato fries to your order, along
with a dish of delectable soft-serve ice cream, which has a butterfat
content you’re better off not knowing. —Sarah Kelley
Cheeseburger Charley’s
$4.25
Poor,
overlooked Cheeseburger Charley’s is like the United States Post Office
of cheeseburgers: while others may offer more flash, toppings or
flavoring, CC’s delivers an above-average burger with assembly-line
efficiency and consistency. The bun, while satisfyingly toasted, did
crumble after cutting for the taste test. Perhaps a little dry. The
fresh, never frozen, patty is the thickness of a deck of cards and
grilled over flames in a speedy five minutes. We found the burger to be
a degree toward medium-well, with no sign of pink. The cheese is placed
on the burger seconds prior to its removal from the flame, giving it
enough time to ooze over the edges and solidify. The grilled burger has
a carbonized surface and a smoky flavor that exceed fast-food
expectations. But it’s the Your Way condiment bar where Cheeseburger
Charley’s shines, with a bounty of toppings to pimp your burger beyond
the predictable burger-stand fare. —Rob Williams
Red Robin
$8.49
With
a mess of shredded lettuce, floppy onions, tomatoes, pickles, cheddar,
mayo and a smattering of the chain’s sweet-pickle relish and ketchup
concoction—not to mention the fried onion straws we added in a moment
of gluttonous glee when everyone else seemed to be doing it—the burger
was a bit over-accessorized. The too-sweet marriage of crispy onions
and all that relish goo made the thin patty difficult to suss out. When
we gave in to gravity and let the toppings slither out of the
semi-soggy sesame seed bun, we found the beef an unfortunate
afterthought, leaving the taster who schlepped across town to pick it
up to beg, “Isn’t anyone going to taste my burger?” Our guess
is the maddened dash back to the office was this burger’s demise. It’s
too drippy to travel well, so it’s best to tackle this one in-house.
(Imagine Chili’s with an arcade.) Dine-in bonus: Red, the restaurant’s
yellow-beaked mascot, makes booth-side appearances that are sure to
scare the bejeezus out of the wee ones. —Elizabeth Ulrich
The Palm
$10 with fries
Do
you remember that date you had a few weeks ago when you looked across
the table at the other person and realized that while there was nothing
really wrong with your companion, you just weren’t feeling it? Well,
don’t ring up The Palm and try their burger. It’s just not that
special. It’s as if the legendary steakhouse, content in offering a
superstar menu of reliably tasty dishes, simply outsourced the
production of this mainstay to a junior chef. The Palm’s burger lacked
the flavor, creativity and pure deliciousness of some of our upscale
selections and the old-fashioned bite and heft of some of the more
standard offerings we tasted. The burger, though grilled, was rather
wispy, and the beef had no sizzle or substance. It was neither dry nor
juicy and only decent in looks and taste. With standard toppings of
lettuce, tomatoes and onions, none of which seemed particularly fresh,
the burger didn’t have anything else going for it either. Worst of all,
The Palm’s burger is not even a cheap date. Coming in at $10, the
offering was more expensive than nearly all our selections, and while
it’s just good enough to appease our hunger, it certainly won’t have us
coming back for more. —Matt Pulle
Capitol Grille/Oak Bar
$12.50 with crispy fries, fresh fruit, smoked-bacon-and-charred-onion potato salad or Southern cole slaw
The
hefty price tag and list of toppings—confit onions, oven-cured
tomatoes, Point Reyes blue cheese—would suggest the Capitol Grille
burger is only for blue bloods. But before you reverse snobs peer
disapprovingly over your discount eyeglasses, keep in mind it was one
of the heftier slabs of beef in our competition, and the unusual
condiments blended quite nicely. (Of course, of all the curdled milk
options, blue cheese is the most polarizing, and might be a deal-killer
for many.) Our test version was a little drier than some previous
incarnations, which contributed to its first-round demise. And like a
Rotier’s or Brown’s Diner burger, it loses some of its appeal when
removed from its natural environment—the stunning and timeless
Hermitage Hotel. (Instead of eating in the restaurant, try the adjacent
Oak Bar, one of the coziest hideaways in town. Also, the burger
increases to $16 on the Grille’s evening menu, but stays the same on
the bar menu.) Despite its relatively lackluster performance here,
we’ll certainly revisit its unique charms—quite likely on a late Sunday
evening or Christmas Eve, as the Oak Bar serves late into the night,
365 days a year. —Jack Silverman
Brown’s Diner
$4.65
How
could a burger cooked in a restaurant that looks like a trailer in full
post-tornado splendor be anything but good? Don’t ask us. Brown’s
burger was just that: good. Not a mind-blowing burgasm of taste, but
good. In its natural habitat at the bar at Brown’s, in proximity to the
perspicacious Daphne, the smell of dozens of burgers grilling side by
side in hot and happy harmony is intoxicating. When one of those juicy
babies finally makes its way to your trembling mitts—with thin sliced
pickles harpooned to the seedless white-bread bun with a
toothpick—nothing tastes finer. Unfortunately, in conference room
captivity, these burgers don’t taste so sweet. The fatty meat made for
a juicy burger, despite being slightly overcooked, but one that had a
somewhat oily flavor. Topped with ho-hum condiments and flimsy shredded
lettuce that added neither flavor nor crunch, this burger wasn’t in it
to win it. It wasn’t bad, just good. At this level of competition, good
just isn’t enough. —P.J. Tobia