Working Man's Friend - Indianapolis, IN

The following blog was written by my good friend Ron Newlin

Our mutual friend Greg Hoover emailed me early this week to tell me he was going to be in Indianapolis on business on Friday, and to see if I was free for lunch. I was. On Friday morning when we texted our confirmation messages, I had a mid-text inspiration: “As a tribute to Hoosier Burger Boy, I know where we should go.”

Like Hoosier Burger Boy, I grew up in small towns and the Indiana countryside (we went to high school together), but today I’m 30 years into being a heart-of-the-city urban dweller. Nine times out of ten, when I’m entertaining guests from out of town, I take them to one of my favorite trendy neighborhoods, either MassAve (Massachusetts Avenue) or SoBro (South Broad Ripple) – both places full of locally-owned bistros with diverse menus and clientele and lots of sidewalk dining for the sixty days each year when the Indiana weather will allow it.

But ever since I started following this blog, I’ve known that if Scott ever visits, I have to take him to The Workingman’s Friend. So this week, I decided a visit from Hoov and a guest-blog on Hoosier Burger Boy would be the next best thing.

The Workingman’s Friend is a 92-year-old, continuously-family-owned bar on the near west side of Indianapolis, on Belmont Avenue just north of US 40, the National Road. It’s a simple cinder-block building that got its last makeover sometime around 1940, I’m guessing, when the owners must have got a great deal on glass blocks. Combined with an art moderne backbar in blonde ash that runs across the entire south wall of the building, a sea of formica tables and red vinyl chairs, and some vintage cigarette machines around the perimeter, the place is a time capsule.

Near-west Indy is and always has been a working-class neighborhood, although it’s close enough to downtown that the The Workingman’s Friend’s clientele is always a mix of blue and white collars. It’s the kind of place where you can order a braunschwieger sandwich, although not very many people do. According to our vivacious waitress (and an article in a book called Hamburger America that she was pleased to showed us), “99%” of their business is the double cheeseburger.

That’s what we both ordered, of course, along with homemade onion rings. The rings are crispy, not too batter-y and not too greasy, and just small enough to not leave you feeling like you wish you had eaten two fewer. Considering the small portion size, the $2.95 price tag is a little on the high side, but they’re so much more satisfying than French fries that I can’t resist.

The burgers, at $4.95, are both a steal, and (to my taste), fifteen bites of perfection. I love a burger that has some juiciness in the middle but is smashed down and fried to a crispy lace around the edges, and that’s how they make them at The Workingman’s Friend. The double comes on a simple soft white bun, no seeds, with a separate layer of bun between the two patties. The cheese is American and is content to not compete with the beef for flavor. To my way of thinking, the glory of this kind of burger is as much about the texture as the taste. I love to try new combinations on a big thick burger, but at Workingman’s Friend I don’t want anything more than the little extra tartness of yellow mustard and dill slices. Hoov goes with the works. We both agree that it’s a five-spatula experiencae.

ABOVE: Hoov with the "vivacious waitress".

I tell Hoov that a burger is one of my earliest food memories. Sometime before I started first grade, sometime between the ages of 2 and 5, my family lived in Dubois County in southern Indiana, and my favorite baby sitter was an older German immigrant that I knew only as Mrs. Seitz. Mrs. Seitz would pan-fry me a hamburger for dinner when my parents were out with friends, and my parents could never understand why I preferred her austere, crunchy little patties to the thick juicy ones that they were proud to make for us all.

I’m going from 50-year-old memories now, but it seems that we understood that Mrs. Seitz had come to the US only since the end of the War. That would be World War II, which at that time was less remote in our memories than Desert Storm is to us today. If that’s the case, this was a woman who spent much of her life in Germany during World War I, the Weimar Republic, the Great Depression, and World War II. For much of her life, I speculate, a pound of hamburger probably was expected to feed twenty people. “For a week,” Hoov adds.

I wonder how many other Eastern Europeans who made up the original clientele and staff for The Workingman’s Friend had a similar approach. I’ve never thought of a hamburger as soul food, but this particular affinity for the crunchy edge may just come from that kind of approach … from the effort to get an extra burger out of each pound, by making the burger fill a bun by smashing the edges out flat … and from the deep appreciation that its still beef, and its still a treat.

These burgers aren’t crunchy all the way through; the middles are rich and satisfying. I just think of the crisp edge as a tribute.

And oh yeah, The Workingman’s Friend is a bar. Hoov quickly spied the big vintage 32-ounce fishbowl beer glasses behind the bar and ordered one, filled with one of the two beers on tap – Bud Light (the other option was Bud). I’m no beer snob, I’m perfectly happy with a Miller High Life; which I ordered by the bottle. Our waitress offered some curious commentary on the relative merits of the two containers that we didn’t quite understand but really enjoyed …

The existence of the Hamburger America book causes me to feel both validated and vaguely disappointed. I’m glad to know that this favorite place of mine is recognized by others for the quality of the food, and that I’m not just projecting my attraction to the ambience and the good company that I always share it with, on to the burger itself. I only regret a little bit that I might not be the first person to tell readers of this blog about it!

But if you’re ever in the urban capital city of Hoosier Burger Boy’s agrarian home state, this is the place to go.

Burger 4.5 spatulas out of 5
Onion Rings 4 Spatulas

Working Man's Friend
234 N Belmont Ave.
Indianapolis, CA 46222
317-636-2067

The Original Root Beer Stand - Culver, IN

The Original Root Beer Stand In Culver, Indiana has overlooked the beach at Lake Maxinkuckee since before I was a kid swimming in the lake. It has changed names and owners over the years, but is still a summer staple for the folks who descend on the lake for summer fun. It offers its drive-in, car-hop service, walk-up window and picnic tables. The drive-in has a real waitress who takes your order and delivers it on a tray. Sonic should take notes.

We stopped to try the burger and the breaded tenderloin. I ordered the Big Guy Burger with two quarter-pound patties for $4.20. The burger patties are frozen, but are thawed and seasoned before cooking, according to Katelyn, our cheerfully helpful server. One of the melted American cheese slices oozed from between the patties and another underneath. There was shredded lettuce, fresh tomato slices and soft white bun. I added ketchup and mayo. It was a good burger, somehow the patties were tasty and crumbly – better than the typical burger of that ilk.

The crinkle cut fries ($1.60) were thin, hot and salty. Very enjoyable. But as always, when we come home, the breaded tenderloin sandwich ($2.95) steals the show. Big as your face, the thin-pounded pork tenderloin, breaded and deep fried, extends out and beyond the bun. When done right, this is a treat you just can’t get just anywhere. The stand did a nice job with theirs.

We actually got out of the car and sat at a table overlooking the lake. It was a beautiful summer day to enjoy lunch at the stand.

Burger 3.5 spatulas out of 5
Fries 3.5 spatulas

The Original Root Beer Stand
824 Lakeshore Dr.
Culver, IN 46511
574-842-2122

The Garage Pub and Grill - Columbus, IN

The Garage Pub and Grill in Columbus, Indiana, sits amongst the modern architecture that dominates this town in the middle of Southern Indiana. My wife and I traveled south to see the sites. When we got there we were hungry and stopped to get a bite. The Garage Pub and Grill looked like a good spot. It is fairly new, with flat screens adorning the wall. It has a vaguely chain restaurant feel, but a very extensive menu.

I ordered the BBQ Bacon Burger ($9.49) with onion rings. It comes with a thick, tasty Angus Chuck patty. The sauce, American cheese and bacon were tasty. Lettuce, onion and tomato fresh. Kaiser roll was a little tough and not as fresh tasting. It was a good burger, but didn’t really knock my socks off.

The onion rings were breaded, crisp and very thin. Crunchy and pretty good.

Burger 3.5 spatulas out of 5
Onion rings 3 spatulas

The Garage Pub and Grill
308 4th Street
Columbus, IN 47201
812-418-8918

Triple XXX - Lafayette, IN

The Triple XXX Restaurant in West Lafayette, Indiana is one of those classic places where everyone should experience a burger. When I was in college, I enjoyed it, as generations of Purdue Boilermakers have. My favorite was always the Duane Purvis All-American ($6.75) - a ¼ pound ground sirloin burger with peanut butter. I have always said peanut butter should be the third condiment on the table after mustard and ketchup. This burger makes that argument more forcefully than I ever could.

The Triple XXX cannot be ignored with its black and orange stripes screaming from along the street in West Lafayette. Inside are U-shaped counters, autographed photos from all the Purdue greats like, Gene Keady, Drew Brees, Bob Griese and Joe Tiller.

The burger comes with peanut butter smeared on the bottom of a spongy, toasted sesame bun along with American Cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion and pickle. You bite into the burger and taste the great combo of tastes that a well-prepared burger always exhibits, followed by a nice peanut after taste.

The onion rings are thin and very crisp, with not a lot of onion to them. The fries are thin and salty and hot, very good.

By the way, my daughter had the grilled cheese. At $1.85, it is the deal of the century.

Burger 4.5 spatulas out of 5
Onion rings 2.5 spatulas
Fries 3.5 spatulas

Triple XXX Restaurant
State & Salisbury Street
Lafayette, IN 47906
765-743-5373
www.triplexxxfamilyrestaurant.com

Triple XXX - West Lafayette, IN

Three of my burger spies pointed out the article on cnn.com about "Five tasty burger joints worth visiting". I had read about Ann's in Atlanta before, but the real eye opener was the mention of one of my old college haunts - Triple XXX, in West Lafayette, IN. They even mentioned my favorite burger. The Duane Purvis All-American featured peanut butter.

I tried ordering a version of this at Johnny Rockets one time. I added bacon. The waitress asked me three times if I was sure. I have always maintained that peanut butter should be a condiment. (photo from the Triple -XXX website.)

Nick's English Hut - Bloomington, IN

Nick’s English Hut in Bloomington Indiana, is not a bad place despite being in the shadow of the enemy. I flew to Indiana to meet some high school buddies near Indiana University. Having been a Purdue Boilermaker, IU’s bitter, instate rival, I had never spent much time in Bloomington.

We went to Nick’s an hour or two before an IU basketball game was to be broadcast. My buddies wanted to get there early to guarantee a good seat. The vast space was mostly empty when we got there. I attribute this to the fact that IU was 1-14 in Big Ten play at that point. (Author’s note: Purdue was 10-5 and in the process of winning number 11 when we arrived.)

Nick’s is huge. The original downstairs is a charming and dark with a double row of wood booths and more seating in back. We went upstairs to the newer large upstairs space, which had a little less soul, but more than made up for it with lot’s of big screens to watch the game. We grabbed a table, six stools and several brews.
I ordered the 1/3-pound Bacon Cheeseburger with fries ($8.50). The Bleu burger was recommended, but I like to go with a milder cheese so I can taste the beef. I also, ordered onion rings ($3.50 for a half order.) There were lots of other tempting appetizer items on the menu like Breaded Mushrooms and Sink-The-Bismarck Fries ($6.50 with cheese). These are a bucket of fries all spiced up with chili powder and Parmesan cheese and accompanied by a spicy kind of thousand-island type dressing. I highly recommend these over the regular fries. They are unique and very tasty. They go great with beer.

The onion rings came with the Bismarcks and mushrooms. They were battered and large and pretty good, although not that unique. The mushrooms were more interesting. They were a very large chunk of portobello, battered and hot, but crunchy on the outside.

The burger came and looked very nice sitting on a fresh white Kaiser bun. The American cheese was melted enticingly and covered with bits of bacon that were crunchy and salty. A nice touch I had not had before. I had mustard and mayo on the sandwich as well. Biting in, I found the whole thing very pleasing. It was a bit smokier than I like, but the beef was juicy and cooked a nice medium. I had a bite of the bleu burger and didn’t think it was quite as good with too much bleu cheese for my taste.

But the real treat of the evening was the breaded tenderloin sandwich. (See photo below.) This is an Indiana favorite. A pork tenderloin is pounded thin and then breaded and deep-fried. A perfect version is much larger than the bun and this one was very, very good with fresh lettuce and onions too. Don’t miss this treat if you go to Nick’s.
Another great meal I had in Bloomington was breakfast at the Runcible Spoon. They have a unique version of Eggs Benedict, but the real find is the superb corned beef hash. This hash mixed mashed potatoes and corned beef fried up in a skillet. Put a runny egg over it and you are half way to heaven. Have the burger at Nick’s in the afternoon and complete the trip.

Of course, then you remember you are in IU territory and cannot possibly be in heaven. That is, until IU loses at the buzzer. Then order is restored.

(One more tip: Stay away from Opie Taylor’s. My burger there was severely overcooked and inferior in every way to Nick’s a few blocks away.)

Burger 4 spatulas out of 5
Standard Fries 2.5 spatulas
Sink The Bismark Fries 5 spatulas
Onion Rings 2.5 spatulas

Nick’s English Hut
423 E. Kirkwood Ave.
Bloomington, IN 47408
812-332-4040
www.nicksenglishhut.com

The Sportsman Grill and Billiards - Evansville, IN

Reviewed By Greg Hoover - Evansville, Indiana

I had to laugh when Scott introduced me to his burger blog. Scott is one of my all-time best friends, attending high school together, playing in bands, and just generally spending a lot of time with each other in our teenage years. We have always kept in touch, and share one of those rare friendships than anyone is lucky to have. But that’s not why I laughed. I laughed because I truly remember Scott as one of the great burger hounds.

That reputation was set in stone the day that Scott, Jim Bazini and I stopped at a little local burger joint in North Manchester, Indiana, en route home from a pilgrimage to the Guitar Gallery in Huntington. Scott had ordered the “Mr. Dave”—named after the Ray Kroc wannabe who owned the establishment—but without onion, pickle and mayonnaise, as I recall. The owner himself had taken the order, and he proceeded to correct Scott. “That is not a Mr. Dave if it doesn’t have all of the condiments; it is a cheeseburger with lettuce and tomato.” “Right,” said Scott. “A Mr. Dave without onion, pickle and mayonnaise.” They argued as if the world were ending: Mr. Dave sticking up for his right to correctly name his own burger; Scott for his as the customer, who is always right. Jim and I could only watch and laugh, loudly.

Right then I knew that Scott was a man who would get his burgers perfect, or not at all.

So it is truly a pleasure to be the first “Guest Reviewer” for my favorite burger maven’s blog. I chose a place I have asked Scott to come visit: The Sportsman Grill and Billiards in Evansville, Indiana.

Stepping into The Sportsman on Evansville’s west side (Franklin Street) is like taking a portal directly back to the 50’s. Six pool tables take up the eastern two-thirds of the bar’s real estate—each under a dusty oblong fluorescent light. Cue stick racks and chalk cones belie the bars real lifeblood. Beer ads and posters adorn the walls, as do neon signs extolling the virtues of Schlitz, Pabst, and that old locally brewed Evansville favorite, Gerst. There are also a couple of the prerequisite deer and moose heads stuffed and mounted in sentinel positions along the wall.

The billiards area is separated from the “dining room” by a non-existent wall that is marked by several floor-to-ceiling support posts. High Ceilings too, maybe twenty feet. Aged and darkened wood paneling adorns the walls up to a height of three and a half feet; it’s the kind that is in narrow little slats maybe two inches wide, and it clearly hasn’t been painted or stained since it was new. The floor is tiled—in that old tan with speckles style that you may remember from your Grandma’s kitchen—and the tables and chairs are of the Formica, padded red vinyl, and stainless steel variety. The lighting is dim, and except for the huge picture windows across the front, the back of the bar could easily pass for the middle of night at high noon. A huge (6 by 20 feet) hand-painted blackboard on the western wall has spaces to list the scores—by inning—of all of the day’s baseball games, sorted by either American or National League…a reminder not only of the greatness of America’s pastime fifty years ago, but that interleague play and 24 hour cable sports networks didn’t exist yet.

To order lunch at The Sportsman, you walk up to the end of the bar where the grill is located. After a moment for the fry cook to notice you, he steps around, leans on the wooden wall that’s about four feet high, and writes your order down himself on an old green receipt pad…then tears it off and hangs it on the grill. You then step to the bar and order your drink, find a table and await your meal amidst the scent of grilled things.

For all of the nostalgia so thick you have to brush it away from your face, this is hamburger heaven, and the burgers are exactly what you would expect if you stepped back into a 1952 diner or bar in rural southern Indiana. They are exquisite. Large unevenly shaped slabs of beefs, fried on a griddle in a little pool of butter until the edges are lacy, crispy, and crunch to perfection—the ideal complement to the thick beefy middle. Get a double with cheese, and watch as all three slices of the cheese melt perfectly into the ground beef. The buns are those old fashioned white ones like your Grandma use to use, probably Sunbeam or Holsum, and are buttered and grilled right alongside their meaty partners. The whole thing is served in that classic little red basket made of plastic, with a sheet of wax paper inside and generous portions of onion, lettuce and tomato alongside. No milk shakes, but longneck beer so cold it’s reminiscent of Lucifer’s heart. I’m telling you—it’s like being ten again and sitting in any one of dozens of Midwestern restaurants in the 50’s or 60’s. Of course, when I was ten, the pleasures of the Busch family were yet beyond my reach.

Ahhh, but as good as these burgers are they are not the star of this show. That place on the billboard is reserved for The Sportsman’s fries, and the experience begins when you order. Because immediately after that fry cook hangs your order on the grill, he turns back to his work counter, places a very large potato inside a cast iron contraption that looks like it should be smashing old soda cans, and slams a long handle down with precise yet unbridled force. After repeating that action a second time with yet another pound and a half spud, there—raw, white and with the skin still on—lie your 3 pounds of French fries. Before they even get a second to start to turn brown they are scooped up and tossed into the oil, where a sizzling and popping ensues to let you know that your potato is en route to Nirvana.

And Nirvana it is. Crispy edges; yet soft enough that they fold in half when you pick them up; and lots of crunchy little end pieces. If you’ve never experienced fresh cut fries, I’m telling you, you aren’t living. Unbelievable potato flavor. They come alongside the burger in the basket, and with two giant potatoes to each order of fries one order is the equivalent of about three extra large boxes of McDonalds fries in volume. Salty, just a bit greasy; French fry perfection. Trust me, you will eat them all. I know fried food is bad for you. I know that potatoes have become the food version of the antichrist in our salad-addled society. But I firmly believe in my heart that when my maker accepts me into Valhalla, and walks me down those streets paved with gold, the first place we will stop en route to my palace will be The Sportsman, and I fully expect Him to giggle in anticipation when his potatoes are slammed into spikes.

As an aside, if you were to veer away from your burger quest, you would find the most perfect specimen of the famed Indiana breaded pork tenderloin at The Sportsman as well. Huge—more than twice as big as the bun that attempts to hold it—and perfectly fried in the same oil as the fries. Thick, meaty, and crunchy. Order it with fresh sliced onion and American cheese. Fold it in half to more closely frame it under the bun.

At the risk of sounding just a bit trite and old fashioned, you have one last thing to do before leaving The Sportsman. When you’re finished, take in all of your surroundings and try to convince yourself that the last fifty years have really improved our society. For my part, at least in this setting, I find it hard to do.

The Sportsman Grill and Billiards
2315 West Franklin Street
Evansville, IN

Burger 4.0
Fries 5.0
Ambiance - Priceless