Hamburger America (50 page)

 

 

A
rnold Burger’s reputation far exceeds its physical size. The tiny, beat up burger joint may look worn out, but this burger destination has cranked out very large, tasty burgers to happy customers for decades.

Owner Gayla Arnold is a hoot. Loaded with energy, this transplanted Hoosier took over when her parents had finally had enough 10 years ago. Ann and Dinzel Arnold opened the restaurant in 1985, moving into an old barbeque joint in the center of Amarillo. The Arnold family today is huge and it’s not uncommon to find a few family members helping out around the
restaurant. Gayle’s nephew Perry, who worked at Arnold’s as a teenager and is now a chef at a nearby Olive Garden told me, “Everything I know about the kitchen I learned here.”

The menu boasts a dizzying selection of patty-and-cheese combinations, over 30, and the choices are based on patty size and quantity. The standard-sized patty at Arnold is three-fourths of a pound but to add to the confusion you can also order a Junior, a Baby, or a Small burger. Naturally, I had to ask how much each patty weighed and Gayla explained with a straight face, “The Baby is smaller than the Junior, the Small is smaller than the Baby . . . ,” and so on. Each size can come in up to four patties, with or without cheese. “It looks like a lot of burgers but it’s really not,” Gayla assured me. When I asked why the menu was like this, Gayla said in her defense, “Our customers have dictated our menu. It’s their fault!” My advice would be to stick to the basics, avoid the confusion, and get the most popular burger on the menu—the “Arnold Burger.”

The restaurant’s namesake burger is not to be taken lightly. This burger is a monster. Assuming you were hungry when you walked in, you most certainly will not be when you leave. The Arnold starts with two, three-fourths-pound patties that are stacked with four slices of American cheese on a toasted, wide, white squishy bun slathered with mayo and mustard. Lettuce, tomato, raw onion, and pickles are standard but come on the side.

The Arnold floored me. Most of the time when someone leads me to a burger almost too big to consume, the finished product turns out to be flavorless, poorly cooked, and too much to handle. I was amazed because the Arnold was as flavorful and juicy as any of my favorite “slimmer” burgers and surprisingly easy to handle. The Arnold is really just a cartoonishly large all-American burger. The secret, I believe, may be in the griddle. In plain view directly behind the register is a beautifully seasoned freestanding flattop griddle. The jet-black surface reminded me that this is where some of the best burgers get their flavor.

If that wasn’t enough, you can actually get a burger in the shape of Texas in four different sizes. A local bakery supplies Gayla with specially made buns that are also in the shape of Texas. Other shapes are available including a guitar, a boot, and the popular heart-shaped burger for two. Choose a shape from the outlines drawn on the wall in actual size. Some of the shapes I could not identify. “That’s a snowman,” Gayla told me pointing to a bulbous outline. I had to believe her.

Arnold is also the home of the “Family Burger,” an ingenious invention dreamed up by Gayla’s parents. “My mother was trying to figure out a way to feed a family, like a pizza.” It sounds crazy, but they have sent Family Burgers to bachelor parties and weddings. Gayla added, “We’ve even sent them to funerals.” The largest Family Burger is 24 inches in diameter, feeds a family of 10, and takes up most of the space on the flattop to cook. The grillperson uses a pizza peel to flip the Family Burger, and it’s served on a huge, custom-made bun. If you want one of these, you’ll need to order it a day in advance.

Arnold Burger gets a delivery of fresh beef daily and whatever family is around in the morning helps hand-patty the wide array of patty sizes. Nothing is actually measured and as Gayla put it, “We just grab the meat and start pattying.” She added, “My dad had the perfect hand size for making the patties.” The tiny restaurant has been known to move through hundreds of pounds of beef a day and once set a one-day record of 500 pounds following a TV appearance.

I asked Gayla about the limited hours at Arnold Burger, which is not open on weekends. The restaurant closes at the peculiar time of 5:45 p.m. and as Gayla explained, “It’s a great time to go home!”

 

 

I
can always count on my good friend and Houston food critic Robb Walsh to dig up the obscure. Robb thankfully put this burger joint on my radar and I am forever grateful. Robb also introduced me to Don Blake, the man behind the burger. Don’t call him Don, though. I tried a few times and he didn’t respond. Finally he told me quietly, “My mom called me Don. Everybody else calls me Blake.”

Blake didn’t always serve the best, freshest burgers in town from his dream-come-true barbeque joint on the west side of Houston. “When we first started we were serving frozen,” Blake admitted, but he knew the burger could be better. As fate would have it, when a truck didn’t show with frozen patties one day, Blake ran to a local grocery store to buy fresh ground 80/20 chuck and the rest was history. “It was like a phenomenon,” Blake told me. “Word got out and people were asking ‘What are you putting in there?’”

There was no turning back, and after 28 years Blake is still using the same 80/20 chuck for his burgers that he picks up from a local butcher.

I had my first burger at Blake’s with Robb Walsh and noticed right away that it seemed loaded with butter. “You have a problem with that?” Robb shot back. No, I most certainly did not. The burger to get at Blake’s is the cheeseburger with everything. The griddleperson takes a measured eight-ounce ball of ground chuck, presses it between two sheets of wax paper, then plops it onto the well-seasoned flattop. A liberal amount of “secret” seasoning (that looked like salt and pepper) is sprinkled on top and the burger is pressed again. A very complicated buntoasting procedure ensues where a five-inch white squishy is sent through a buttering toaster press and then transferred to the griddle to finish. “The key is the bun cooking on that griddle,” Blake pointed out. The bun is prepped with pickles, mayo, mustard, shredded lettuce, and tomato. It ain’t a picture-perfect burger, with its squashed bun and erupting contents, but don’t let that fool you. The butter, beef, mustard, pickles, and soft bun make for an enormously satisfying burger experience (I added bacon and grilled onions, too). Add some jalapeños to remind yourself that you’re in Texas.

There’s a curious burger on the menu called the “Kick-Burger,” designed by one of Blake’s biggest fans, Houston mega-developer Vincent Kickerillo. The Kick comes with pepper jack cheese, jalapeños, and a splash of barbeque sauce. Even Frank Sinatra became a fan (thanks to his good friend Kickerillo) and had Blake frequently ship raw patties to his home in Malibu. “He and Kick loved the seasoning so I’d overnight 15 to 20 pounds to them.”

There are many other things on the menu like sandwiches, baked potatoes, and burritos, but I’ve never tried them. I have not even tasted the world-class barbeque that Blake is known for. I’ve only indulged in his amazing burgers.

Don Blake

There is no signage indicating a drive-up window but at Blake’s you can order from your car. Look for the tiny window on the right side of the building and place your order. “twenty-five percent of our business is by drive-up,” Blake told me.

The idea for a barbeque and burger restaurant was born of necessity. As a young salesman for an office supply business, Blake was constantly on the search for decent, affordable barbeque and decided to open his own place. Blake’s sales beat had him in on the west side of Houston daily and he discovered his current location by accident while taking a shortcut. “This street was a two-lane dirt road back then,” he told me, which is hard to imagine given the unstoppable urban sprawl of Houston. It turned out to be the perfect location.

Blake’s stands out on Jeanetta Street thanks to its design. “I wanted it to look ‘cowboy,’” Blake told me, and pointed out the horse hitch that completes the Alamoesqe façade. The dining room has a floor-to-ceiling painted mural depicting a dusty Old West version of his hometown of Brownwood, Texas. “That’s not really what it looks like,” Blake confessed. He grew up in a town where being black was an anomaly. He showed me his high school reunion picture and said with a chuckle, “See if you can find me!” As I scanned the sea of white faces it was not hard to spot Blake.

Every year, just before Thanksgiving, Blake smokes 100 turkeys and donates them to under-privileged families and a shelter for homeless vets in the neighborhood. Blake explained, “I grew up poor and know how it feels to get food during the holidays.”