Jim has already written a fine post on traditional, all-American burgers; I won’t mess with his wisdom on his homeland’s favorite summer lunch. Instead, I will tell you about mine.

I grew up on the border of Croatia and Bosnia, in a region whose culinary weapons are onion, pork fat, and paprika. If you can fry one in the other and dust it with the third, you’re golden. It’s beautiful country in the summer - Oregon reminds me of it, in that you get three months of fantastic weather and spend the other nine waiting for three more. And in those tanning days, you better invite friends over on the weekend and serve them one of these.

It’s basically a spicy patty topped with sour cream, served on a softened roll and accompanied with raw green onions. Are you still reading? Good - let’s break it down!

• 1/8 lb ground pork and 1/8 lb ground beef (or, in my case, 1/4 lb ground turkey)
• 1 clove of garlic, finely chopped
• Paprika and cayenne pepper
• Salt and black pepper
• 1 ciabatta roll, sliced in half
• 1/4 cup stock (chicken, vegetable, turkey, what have you)
• 2 tbsp sour cream
• 4-5 thin slices of onion, white or yellow
• 2-3 green onions, fresh and crisp

In a plastic bowl - larger than you think, as is always the case with bowls - mix the meat with the garlic, and season with the hot stuff as you see fit. This should be fairly spicy in that dry, peppery way - don’t introduce any acid by the way of hot sauce. You’ll be cutting the heat with the cream, so live a little.

Press the patty into shape on a large piece of plastic wrap. Go thinner than you would with a typical burger - I don’t recommend you go rare here. We’re shooting for more of a meatball-type muscle to the patty. That said, make sure it all stays together.

Heat your grill, griddle, or frying pan, and get everything oiled enough to minimize sticking - follow Jim’s instructions in the above-linked burger post. If you’re cooking on a solid surface (not a grill grate) and you’d like to try the unorthodox Shake Shack method, press the patty down and let it caramelize on one side before scraping it off with a sharp metal spatula and giving the other side the same treatment. This will result in a “smashed” texture and a burger that’s crispy on the outside. 

Meanwhile, grab a strip of aluminum foil. You’ll build a makeshift rack by twisting the foil into a rope and then coiling it into a ring. Place this in a small saucepot and add enough stock to cover the bottom, but no more than half the height of the rack.

Heat the stock over medium heat; don’t boil it, just get it steaming a bit.Place one half of the ciabatta roll, cut side down, on the rack, so it gets steamed by doesn’t sit in the stock. Place the other half of the roll on it, cut side up. Cover the pot so you get a nice steam room going. This will turn the dry ciabatta into a spongy bun - it’s not a texture you get in regular burger buns.

After about a minute of steaming, remove the roll and the rack from the stock. Dip the cut side of each slice of the bread into the stock, brush it with oil, and place it on the grill. This will add lots of flavor and also remove much of the water from the outside of it. Again, it’s a texture all its own.

Time to assemble: when the burger is done - medium-well, I recommend - place it on the bun and top it with the sour cream. Spread the cream on the patty with the back of a spoon; you should see it melt a little. Top with onion slices. Add more cayenne if that’s your thing.

On the side, you’d serve freshly washed green onions with a little mound of salt. Dip the onion in the salt - just a little! - and crunch away. Weird? Yeah, but - it’s crispy, hot, and salty! Sort of like potato chips, right?

We never called this a “burger” when I was a kid. I’m not sure you’d call it one either. But the great thing about food is, your taste buds shouldn’t care who calls it what - I just hope they like it!

Memorial Day kicked off the unofficial start of grilling season here in the US of A, which no doubt means many of you are going to be pattying up some hamburgers over the next few months. A good burger is a thing to take pride in and a little extra attention will help get it just right.

(photo courtesy of SeoulBrother)

Start with the meat. We usually experience ground beef encased in styrofoam and cellophane wrapping, which introduces a whole host of problems. Unless the cut is specified (usually “ground chuck”), this beef comes from the trimmings of other cuts and is bound to be inconsistent. Pre-wrapped beef is labeled as “lean” or “extra lean”, meaning a fat content of around 9-12%, but a good burger should be more in the 15-20% fat range.

More worrisome than a dry burger, though, is the rare though very serious concern about e. coli. This nasty bug is a common cause of food poisoning and made more prevalent by mass-produced meat ground up who-knows-where. E. coli is a bacteria that lives on the surface of meat, and since grinding steak trimmings into burger increases the amount of surface area exponentially, it makes sense to make sure your meat is ground safely and not before being loaded into a truck and driven all over creation.

The easiest way to do that is to ask your butcher to grind it for you, which they’re usually happy to do. But what kind of meat should you grind? Traditionally, chuck roast makes good hamburger with the right balance of meat and fat and a flavor you’ll recognize. If you want a meatier burger, go for a steak like a sirloin, though it’ll be a little less fatty and therefore drier.

I’ve been experimenting with a mixed approach, combining about 50% chuck with 25% brisket and short rib for a rich, meaty burger (I stole the mixed meat idea from New York butcher Pat LaFrieda, who sells bespoke burger mixes to places like the storied Shake Shack). Traditionalists will insist on beef burgers, but lamb, pork, turkey and even duck are fantastic ground and grilled — the Lunchbox Laboratory here in Seattle sells duck/pork burger called The Dork that calls to my nerdy heart.

If you’re feeling particularly DIY, there’s nothing stopping you from grinding the meat yourself. Don’t have a meat grinder? A food processor will work just fine if you cut your meat into 1-inch cubes and pulse instead of letting it run full tilt. A few one-second pulses should be plenty; you’re not making pâté. The result will be different than what you’re used to - more chopped than ground - but it will patty up just fine and no one will know the difference once they take a bite.

I like to season mine with nothing more than kosher salt and pepper, and I like to do it before I form the patties. I usually sprinkle enough salt to dust the top, add a few fine grinds of pepper, then mix gently with my hands and repeat one more time. You are more than welcome to add any variety of seasonings, such as ketchup and mustard, an egg, chili powder, fresh herbs, onions, or worcestershire sauce, though too much and your burger starts to resemble meat loaf. When I’m using good quality meat, freshly ground, I like to let it stand on its own.

Then there’s the pattying. It’s important to try to make sure each burger is about the same size so that they’ll all cook equally. Six ounces per burger is usually perfect, though eight ounces is a little easier to measure out by sight — two burgers for every pound of meat. (A scale is really handy here.) Once the meat’s measured, it’s important not to work it too much and certainly don’t press it into something resembling a pancake or one of those frozen pucks that fast food joints use. The meat should just hold together with the final patty about 3/4 of an inch thick.

Here’s a trick that will make you the star of the grill — put a dimple in the middle of your patty. Just press your thumb about a quarter of the way into the top of your burgers and reshape as necessary. This will keep your burgers from ending up like little UFOs as they cook ¹.

Medium high heat is just about perfect for burgers — for charcoal, start the coals in a chimney, let them burn until they’re dusted in gray ash, then spread an even layer in your grill. You should be able to hold your hand over the grill for 2-3 seconds. Let the burgers cook for 3-4 minutes, then flip and cook for another 4-5 minutes for medium rare. I find that only flipping once reduces the number of flare ups and keeps the burgers moist and flavorful. Whatever you do, do not press down on the burger with your spatula.

If you like cheese on your burger (who doesn’t?) add it in the last 30 seconds so it just melts. If you can keep your swarming guests at bay, let the burgers rest for a few minutes before digging in. Toast the rolls right on the grill for 30 seconds to keep them from turning to mush.

Condiments are up to you. Here again, I prefer to keep it simple — a thick slice of red onion that’s been grilled for a few minutes to cut back the bite, heirloom tomatoes when in season, crisp butter lettuce or fresh-from-the-window-box arugula for a little more spice, crunchy pickles and a smear of dijon. I’m told some even add ketchup or bottled barbecue sauce but you’re no doubt above such philistinism. You know what to drink with this: a cold beer, preferably from a cooler, fetched by someone who appreciates how much smoke your eyes have endured.

Neven’s Notes:

Jim’s advice is right on the money here. Regarding that thing where people press the burger into the grill - you’ve seen this in movies, now please unsee it. Pressing will merely dry out your burger and make it likelier to stick; it certainly won’t make it cook any faster. Putting down the grill cover will do that. If your grill has a built-in thermometer, you can check this - opening it constantly is the fastest way to lose heat (which, I should add, is not always a bad thing.)

As for the bun, the traditional view is that the perfect hamburger bun stays fluffy until the moment you press it with your fingers, at which point it should deflate into an easily mouthable flat with all the flavor of its formerly tall self. Supermarket buns usually aren’t great, but their spongy softness is a desirable feature. If your particular burger fits a ciabatta roll, go for it; I’m just saying the soft, moist kind of burger Jim writes about will do best on something fluffy and compressive. If you can find a brioche bun, give it a try - everything’s better with more egg and butter.

There are plenty of great reasons to live in the Pacific Northwest, food being high on the list. We’re awash in all things local and sustainable and surrounded by interesting, creative chefs. One of our more noted regional fares is salmon, particularly the Copper River variety that just came into season. The story of the Copper River is that because it’s a long, glacier fed river that runs out of central Alaska, the fish from there are genetically heartier and fattier, selected by Darwin’s invisible hand as one of the finest species of fish to grace a plate. Almost thirty years ago, native son Jon Rowley first figured out how to ship the prized fish from Alaska without freezing or canning them, adding a bit of pomp over the years, and now the first runs of Copper River kings and sockeye are an annual tradition ¹.

Salmon gets a bad rap in some circles but I love it. Yes, it’s overexposed and often overcooked and poorly prepared, but when done right, it’s perfection. Fortunately, this is one of those cases where simplicity truly does reign, especially if you get high quality, fresh fish.

When you’re picking out your fish, there are a few things to look for. First is the species, usually Atlantic, King (also known as Chinook), Sockeye and Coho. Honestly, I’d avoid Atlantic salmon if possible, which tend to be commercially overfished, are less likely to be fresh and are shipped from as far away as northern Europe or South America.

Pacific Salmon are more blessed with sustainable fishing practices, more likely to be line caught and not previously frozen. King salmon are the most prized for their large size and relatively high fat content — don’t worry, we’re talking omega 3 fats here, the good stuff, which also contributes to its wonderful flavor. Sockeye salmon are smaller, a bit less fatty but also incredibly flavorful with a dark red flesh and usually a good deal at the market. Coho are the least fatty of the Pacific salmon with a much lighter flesh that most resembles the color you typically think of when you think of salmon. Whichever species you decide on, look for fish that are wild (not farmed), fresh (rather than previously frozen) and line caught instead of bruised in a net full of other fish ². I generally figure about a third to half a pound per person.

While you’re at the market, pick up two more ingredients: a lemon and a cedar plank. The plank may be a bit exotic, especially if you don’t live near the coast, so you may need to ask or even order online. You want them as basic as possible and don’t pay more than three or four bucks as you won’t reuse them.

When you get home, or at least an hour (preferably two) before you light the grill, the first thing you want to do is soak the cedar planks in water. Fill a roasting or pyrex pan with half an inch of water, add the planks, use a full glass of water to keep them submerged.

There’s one bit of work that is optional but will enhance your dining experience: deboning. Salmon have tiny, feathery pinbones that you’ll end up picking out of your teeth if you don’t remove them. Run your hand along the thickest part of the flesh and you’ll feel the bones poking through. I use a pair of needle-nose pliers (dedicated to just this purpose) to remove the bones and the trick here is to gently pull the bone in the direction it wants to go until it simply dislocates. Try not to tear the flesh of the salmon with the bones. I tend to leave the skin on as it helps the fish hold together a little better and doesn’t waste any meat, but feel free to remove it at this point. If you’ve got large fillets, you may need to cut them down to fit on your planks.

The preparation here couldn’t be easier: a generous amount of kosher salt and a little fresh ground black pepper. It doesn’t need anything else, I promise, you really want the flavor of the fish to shine through here (you’ve paid for it, after all!) and the plank will add a wonderful aroma. Save your rubs and sauces for winter when you’re pulling fish out of the freezer, this fish doesn’t want any herbs or spices. If you absolutely need to mess with it, add a few very thin slices of your lemon right on the flesh.

Bring your grill up to medium high heat ³, remove the planks from the water and put them on the grill for a few minutes, just until they start to smoke and your grill smells like a sauna. Lower the heat (or move to a cooler part of the grill) and place the fillets across the planks and let them grill, untouched, for about 20 minutes, just until done. The salmon flesh will lighten and turn opaque and will easily separate.

The fish doesn’t need much resting time and you can serve it right off the plank for a true Northwestern feel. Add a squeeze of lemon juice if you like. A green salad, fresh grilled asparagus, rustic bread, roasted potatoes or brown rice all make for wonderful sides. I love mine with a bright, hoppy pale ale like Deschutes Red Chair NWPA, Mirror Pond, Lagunitas IPA or even a Sierra Nevada. If wine is more your thing, a crisp white with a little bit of fruit like an Oregon pinot gris would work well or the fish will stand up to a red just fine.