I love hamburgers. I love the heavy metal and gourmet experiments of Kuma’s Corner in Chicago. I love the open-faced and gravy-smothered versions at Murphy’s in Bartlesville. I love the workmanlike and dependable bag of burgers at Braum’s. And Tulsa, being a fractal reflection of my own desires and shortcomings, loves hamburgers as well, with about 420 hamburger joints in total, or 69 shops per square mile.
Spike Whirley, leader of “Party Doom” metal band Dust Lord, puts it succinctly: “Tulsa is a burger-eating MF’r.” His Instagram handle is @the_jamburgalar, so I wouldn’t question his authority.
On the subject of burger authority, I am one. I won a prestigious journalism award for writing about Tulsa’s Lot-A-Burgers. (I can’t remember which award, though. Just trust me.) And my recent review of a new Lot-A for The Pickup was received well enough that they’ve asked me to profile Tulsa burger stops indefinitely.
Stay in touch
Sign up for our free newsletter, The Talegate
Though I love burgers of all kinds, this debut installment will rightfully explore the humble yet GOATed Okie burger: a patty smashed over thin onions and served with cheese. First We Feast contributor and “burger scholar” George Motz lists Oklahoma as the “buckle” in America’s burger belt, and our classic onion burgers are the reason why. In the words of Oliver Montego (of Philadelphia’s pop punk rockers The Superweaks), with whom I shared a Bill’s burger back in the day:
Okie burgers opened a door to burgers I didn’t know about. Putting onions on a griddle and then pressing a patty over them is simple but sick. High heat and rendered fat quickly bring out the goodness of the onion. Of course [this burger] came from poor people, cuz poor people make the best shit out of the least. Onion burgers should be a staple in the U.S., not just Oklahoma.
I visited five places to stack up their offerings. I ordered a double meat, double cheese, and onions on all for consistency, and rated the places solely on their burgers, not their sides.
Brownie’s