I saw the opening lines and decided this was a book I had to read. I had picked up an Alexander McCall Smith thinking it would be about crime and punishment in Botswana, as many of his books are. But The Perfect Hamburger turned out to be a collection of children’s stories. I am not into children’s fiction, but the first paragraph caught my attention.
“Joe liked hamburgers,” it said. “He liked hamburgers that were juicy and delicious with one ring of onion on the top and one on the bottom. He liked hamburgers that had just a little ketchup and that were big enough to sink your teeth into, even if you finished up with a stream of juice running down to the end of your chin. In fact, Joe liked almost all hamburgers.”
Sesame-spotted
Like young Joe, I like all hamburgers. Every now and then I picture a juicy patty of meat squeezed in between two squishy buns dotted with a few sesame seeds. With the meat patty I can see glistening onion rings and a slice of gooey cheese. I am not particular about the lettuce leaf — let it be there if it pleases the chef; discard it if it doesn’t.
I have been reading up on burgers, too. Some celebrated writers, I realise, loved them quite as much as I do. Stieg Larsson, according to some accounts, survived purely on cigarettes and burgers. According to papers that were unearthed from Havana a few years ago, Papa Hemingway was most particular about the burger. His staff had been told how to cook it the way he liked it — with ground beef, onions, garlic, relish and capers. The edges had to be crispy and the core nicely red and juicy.
There is some confusion and debate about where the burger came from. Some believe that it emanated from another ground meat dish called the Hamburg steak which had come to the U.S. from Germany. A bun was added to that, giving birth to the modern hamburger.
Oil slick
I always thought hamburgers had been created by Pop Tate, the sundae and burger maker in Archie comics. Every time Jughead ordered a plate of burgers, I would salivate.
I had my first burgers in an iconic restaurant called Nirula’s in Delhi aeons ago. Those days, burgers meant only lamb burgers.
Then, in the colleges and coffee houses of Delhi University, I ate — and fell in love with — a browned version. The buns were fried, the patty was fried, and I think so were the onions and tomato slices that went into it. Your fingers felt like an oil slick — but it was superb.
I wish, though, I could have had a bite of Joe’s burger. The story is about Joe trying to save old Mr. Borthwick’s little burger shop, for which the boy learns how to grill a burger.
“Joe mixed the hamburger meat with a few chopped onions. Then he put the hamburger patty on the grill and watched it sizzle. Mr. Borthwick got out a bun and put the two halves on a plate ready for the burger,” he writes.
At another point, Joe mixed the meat and onions and then added some special spices. “The moment Joe sank his teeth into the juicy burger he knew that his memory had not misled him. This was exactly the same flavor as the other day. There was absolutely no mistaking it… Mr. Borthwick agreed. ‘You’ve done it, Joe!’ he shouted in triumph. ‘You've found the perfect hamburger!’”
Actually, a lot happens after that, but I am not going to spoil it for you.
The writer likes reading and writing about food as much as he does cooking and eating it. Well, almost.
