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Burgin’ Out With Bad Mitch: Finding Tulsa’s Best “Elevated” Burger

Once again I have tried five different spots and ranked them on my very personal scale

Hi. I’m the guy who eats burgers and writes about them. 

I recently did a tour of Tulsa’s Okie burgers that went some kind of viral. But as with the success of Metallica’s "Some Kind of Monster," it’s hard to know if the many eyeballs feasting upon it were locked in with approval, humor, or seething rage. 

Plenty of commenters wondered why I hadn’t hit Arnold’s, Linda Mar’s, or even Goldie’s, the latter being a sadly endangered burger species. I will get around to them soon. 

A different subset were beyond pressed that my “Okie Burger” list didn’t include the likes of Tavern or PRHYME. Sorry, lovelies: the sandwich species up for poaching was in the “Okie Burger” headline.

But in the spirit of due diligence and possible redemption, I hunted down a bigger game and visited the most recommended places serving up what you might call “elevated” burgers. 

No apologies to the folks who don’t see their favorite fancy burgs on this list. Oren, Big Grass, and that Kilkenny’s buffalo thing are definitely on my radar. I promise to get to them right after Goldie’s. Yes, apologies to the readers that decry “fancy” burgers as undeserving of the term “burger.” I’m with you. I want them greasy, stripped down, and slutty. 

But if we suspend our prejudice about whether the concoctions that follow are “burgers,” we can experience exceptional food in the fancy realm. In fact, a couple of these culinary feats truly embody Burgerdom, and even elevate it.1 


Tina’s

A common note on my Okie burger critique was the omission of Tina’s. Tina’s, in my mind, is a fancy place. The decor and cocktail menu are exquisite and expertly crafted. But commenters were correct: inside Tina’s terracotta-and-tomato-tinted walls hides one of Tulsa’s most perfect Okie burgers. And it’s not fancy. It’s just … perfect. (Look back to my reviews of Lot-A and Howdy Burger for a gentle guide to my judgment criteria here.) 

But Tina’s true showstopper is their veggie burger. That’s right: a veggie burger. For those who don’t have an altar built to Liver King in their bedrooms, this burger is revelatory. I actually cop it more often than the carnivorous OG offering. The pickles and fancy sauce give it a “Big Mac for grown-ups” vibe, and it pairs nicely with a Tina’s Cold Beer, which is a cold beer served at Tina’s, and brewed by American Solera. 

Rating: 4/5 Gilliams

Tina's veggie burger

SMOKE.

SMOKE. offers several burger options, but I ordered their dinner menu flagship in the spirit of even competition. Asymmetrical burger warfare has no place in this most dangerous game. Their Wagyu Burger features smoked gouda, caramelized onions, a brioche bun, and house steak sauce, and is served with parmesan fries. It is fantastic.

But unlike Tina’s, which embodies a burger’s true spirit, this burger is more of a cake, which is a defining characteristic of the fancy burger phylum: super thick and tall, with creative toppings that blend into the patty and bun to build a whole larger than the sum of its parts, and demanding to be judged by a uniform bite. Tony Bourdain was based for taking down the brioche as a burger foundation, but SMOKE. makes their bun work. 

In my Okie burger adjudication, I left off sides in my ratings. You don’t judge a smokehouse by its coleslaw. But the fancy burger judgment kind of has to figure in decor and sides, because if you’re paying fancy prices, you better feel fancy. SMOKE.’s happy hour comes through with myriad cheap and creative options, including their bacon jam, served up with pork rinds and goat cheese. 

Rating: 4.5/5 Gilliams

SMOKE.'s Wagyu burger

Nicky’s Smokehouse

I mentioned not judging a smokehouse by its coleslaw, but I never expected to judge a smokehouse by its burger. When I asked Facebook’s “EAT THIS, Tulsa” group about fancy burgers, multiple people chimed in about Nicky’s Smokehouse Saturday Burger Special. Nicky himself chimed in too, stating, “I grind my brisket every Saturday morning for a special burger. House-ground sounds fancy. We also make a house burger sauce—fancy. Brioche bun—fancy as fuck.” 

Again with the brioche, but I couldn’t be less concerned here. This burger might look insane—and kind of ugly in a Manwich sort of way—but it is disgustingly delicious. That smoked brisket blend he proselytized is incredible. The flavor of this patty puts it in a class of its own. I find myself daydreaming about it, and wishing it could be a standalone meat option on Nicky’s BBQ combos, but it’s a rare beast, only viewed on Saturdays. So hold the fort early in your Marshall’s Brewery-adjacent burger blinds for a glimpse. 

Rating: 4.75/5 Gilliams

Nicky's Smokehouse burger

Tavern

The Tavern Burger is the Tulsa Fancy Burger. Maybe it's because Tavern was an early restaurant adopter in the Arts District—one of the few spots to feed service workers and drunks after restaurant shifts and/or shots at Soundpony—but its burger holds a special place in the minds of certain downtowners. 

This burger uses a mix of short rib, chuck, and brisket in a ratio that bar manager Cameron Heritage informed me is “secret.” One detail he could divulge is the construction of this classic bite. The burger is topped with Stilton cheese and a mushroom cognac cream sauce, and the order of operations sees the cheese “placed on the meat first, which cooks down as they pour over the cognac cream that melts the Stilton” into the patty. Stilton is a potent blue cheese you could peel paint with, if you didn’t know, making the burger incredibly rich and flavorful. So rich, in fact, that I’d recommend splitting it with someone who may also have the drunchies. Or a sober friend at lunch. Or dinner. Or brunch. 

No brioche here: Tavern employs a house-made challah bun, which is nice except that every damn thing in the fancy burger world is on brioche or challah, and a proper burger, in my view, needs a sesame bun or potato roll. My bun wasn’t toasted, but if toasting were standard practice, I’d have no room to bun bitch. The fancier buns, untoasted, absorb all the juices and fail to buttress the formidable fillings. But if they’re going for that cake-like attribute, these buns are a factor. Bread aside, this burg coupled with Tavern’s matchstick fries and garlic parmesan aioli makes a decadent meal in one of Tulsa’s coziest mainstays. 

Rating: 4.5/5 Gilliams

The Tavern Burger

FarmBar

Aside from the pickles on Tina’s veggie burger, I haven’t mentioned veggies, and that’s because they haven’t existed elsewhere on this list. Enter FarmBar’s Tuesday Burger and Barbera night. There’s a lot to say about FarmBar, which is an extension of the Living Kitchen Farm & Dairy in Depew. One thing worth noting is that Living Kitchen grows the heirloom vegetables displayed in their restaurant, which happen to top their dressed-down burger on Tuesday nights. But it’s only dressed down in price, at $10. This fancy burger is a goddamned BURGER. 

“Backyard Burger” is the perfect menu title: it’s the best version of what you’d line up for at a cookout, but grass fed and with a cheddar aioli. The care FarmBar takes in sourcing beef absolutely comes through in every bite. My partner and I were running late for another meeting and had to tab out as soon as we ordered, with us housing our burger, salad, and sundae, and me chambonging my delicious barbera in such a fury that other patrons feared we were dining and dashing. Burger night is a way for FarmBar to repurpose their locally sourced beef and bring in cretins like me who don’t usually venture into fine dining. It worked, and I can’t wait to return and soak up more of their craft.

Rating: 5/5 Gilliams

FarmBar's Backyard Burger

This first installment of the fancy burger tour saw me branching out and finding delightful offerings at every restaurant mentioned, even if I wouldn’t necessarily go back for the burgers themselves. Tavern’s brunch menu is a whirlwind of creativity and flavor, with their French Dip Bagel being a personal fave. The bacon jam and pork rinds at SMOKE. are exemplary, and Nicky’s, Tina’s, and FarmBar carry their own weight across the board. 

But if I was a dumbass redneck pop country dipshit, I might say something like “Get Me To God’s Country.” Because to me, burgers should be simple, stupid, stacked, and salacious, just how Beef Jesus intended. 

In fact, I think I hear the Lot-A-Burger down my street whistling at me right now.

Stay hungry, keep on burgin’, and drop recommendations. 


Footnotes

  1. Call something like Midsommar “elevated horror” around me and I’ll gag while pointing you towards Nightmare on Elm Street 3 … but these food items definitely deserve the “E” word.Return to content at reference 1

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