I had cause to get in my car recently, an ancient hamburger restaurant in Linden, New Jersey. This restaurant, I had been told, was a throwback, a practitioner of the lost art of the old-time flattop hamburger. A time machine! I live in a world where hamburgers are getting bigger and more complex all the time; I follow the art and science of burgerdom as closely as anybody in the country, I would bet, and I’ve seen hamburgers do everything except get smaller, cheaper, or simpler. But these three qualities are, really, the essence of what the hamburger is. And I had a chance to get back to that essence. And that’s why I drove out to Linden, NJ. I was going back to the Source.
The place is called White Diamond. Nick Solares, the hamburger critic for Serious Eats, told me about it. (Here’s Nick’s review.) The name gives away its history. Eighty-eight years ago, the hamburger business began with White Castle. And White Castle was so prodigiously successful, and multiplied so fast, that mutant strains popped up all over the country, White Towers and White Clocks And Royal Castles and White Rose Systems and somehow, in a backwater in north Jersey, a place called White Diamond. It still looks like the thirties there. It’s a freestanding building that looks like it hasn’t been cleaned or repaired in thirty years. There are windows all around; inside is a counter with about a dozen seats. In the middle of the counter is a griddle, that also looks old. An old man stands behind it. All this old man does is make hamburgers: little ones for $1.30, or “large” ones for 2.60. The large one probably is smaller than a sausage patty. The burgers come on white buns which are so soft and puffy and cheap that there are little cracks in the top; the man buys the cheapest off-brands possible at a local off-brand grocery store called Aldi.
The White Diamond cheeseburger, x2. (Photo: NicK Solares)
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Here is how the man cooks the burger. He shuffles up to the griddle and speaks a pink little puck of beef. He has a box with a bunch of these. He puts the little puck on the blackened, weathered flattop, and when the burger begins to sizzle, he presses down on it hard, with the spatula. He spoons some onions on it, and in each spoon is a good amount of onion juice. The flat burger absorbs that juice into its bores. The man presses the onions into the meat. After about a minute he flips the burger, so the onion side is face down on the griddle. He throws a small piece of tangerine-colored American cheese onto the hot top. And with the same unhurried pace, he reaches for the bun, and scoops the browned thin oniony patty onto it. A little squirt of ketchup from an old squeeze bottle finishes the burger. It goes on a little oval plate, and you eat it at the counter, in an excited crouch. For dessert, there’s cake that an old lady makes, one cake a day. It’s not the greatest cake in the world; so what? Eating in this restaurant makes me feel whole. It makes me happy to be an American and to have a love of hamburgers in my heart. The place is nothing short than the hamburger fountain of youth, and every time I come out of it I feel new life.
Josh Ozersky is the national restaurant editor for Citysearch, and newly-converted zealot for Team Rachael. He writes Citysearch’s New York food blog, The Feedbag, but will be writing every week here on topics that aren’t all tied up with the comings and goings of the New York restaurant world, his usual sphere of authority. Along with meat, that is — he’s also the author of The Hamburger: A History, coming to you soon in paperback.
06.24.09 @ 12:54 am
By New Jersey State Law you must have at least one felony conviction in order to work behind the griddle at a White Diamond/Rose. This place is an example of a dying breed in New Jersey and that’s really too bad. Thanks for the review!