Pub classics - How the mighty burger was born
Forget Ronald McDonald, it's 12th-century warlord Genghis Khan we should thank for burgers. Richard Fox reveals how patties became a national favourite.
The good news is the existence of that great British pub classic, the burger, is not down to Ronald McDonald (a fictitious character). It's not even attributable to Dick and Maurice McDonald (who were real people), grafting away in their little café, knocking out hand-made burgers to eager locals in southern Carolina in the first half of the 20th century. It's not even down to Ray Kroc, who breezed into the aforementioned caff one day in 1954, proposed a change in the production methods, and became the biggest franchiser the world has ever known.
So don't worry that the Americans have got one over on us on the food front. It's actually Genghis Khan we have to thank - a 12th-century warlord who made Saddam Hussein look like a philanthropic Gandhi. But it could be worse - we could still be preparing them in the same way he did. The thing was, Genghis's Mongol horsemen were too busy invading and killing to stop for dinner and build a fire on which to cook their lamb or mutton scraps. So, they put it under their saddles before riding into battle. The meat was thus formed into neat little flat patties which, due to the pulverising action of horse and saddle, formed a pretty tender morsel - albeit a raw one, allowing them to eat on the hoof. Strange, but true.
Fortunately, these first meat patties have taken a few twists and turns since then, before winding up on our pub menus as the full-flavoured, molten cheese-topped luxury sandwiches we know today. Most notably, via Russia - where the "Genghis burger" became steak tartar, before heading off to the German port of Hamburg to begin its present incarnation. At what point it became stuck between two pieces of bread is open to conjecture, but as long as it's not still between a horse's ass, who cares? While history has quite literally shaped what we eat, it's the fabulous array of quality ingredients we now have at our disposal that forms the taste. And there isn't a menu dish around that illustrates this concept quite as well as the burger.
Even at its most basic level, minced beef and seasoning sandwiched between a fresh bread bun is a pretty tasty dish if the beef is up to scratch. Throw some chopped onions, crushed garlic and a few herbs into the mix, and you've got something special. Cover in a layer of quality cheddar, gently melted, and you're approaching religious experience. It would be impossible for me to discuss the beef burger in particular, without touching on a rather sensitive and controversial subject - and one that I feel particularly passionate about: cooking degree. Personally, I like my burger rare.
When I make this request, it is far too often received with anything from a look of horror, to a complete rejection of my demands. The bottom line is this: if the meat is 100% traceable quality beef, stored correctly, and prepared following proper health and safety procedures, cooking a beef burger rare - even blue - is no problem. Obviously, those conditions should be a standard given for all domestic, and commercial, food preparation. The negative responses to my requests can only mean two things: ignorance, or a lack of confidence in the ability of the kitchen to meet those purchasing and hygiene requirements. Both those scenarios are dangerous. So, if you really want to have an all-embracing burger experience - get the beef and cleanliness bang on - and cook away with impunity.
Once the non-cooking elements are in place, you can start to get adventurous with your burger offering. Lamb, venison and buffalo can all be offered rare, medium or well done, with different herb and spice mixes tailored to each one. Lamb lends itself perfectly to north African spices such as cumin and ground coriander. These spices should be cooked off before adding to the meat mixture to get rid of any bitterness and bring out the flavour. The best way to do this - for burgers - is to fry off some finely chopped onion, and then add the spices to that. Cook for a further couple of minutes and cool down before adding to the minced meat. Seasoning is paramount to the burger experience, and most mixes will take a lot more salt and pepper than you think. But remember: you can add, but you can't take away! So, rather than leave things to chance, go slightly under, and then take a teaspoon or so of mix, fry it and taste. Repeat the procedure until you're happy with the finished flavour.
One of my pet hates on the burger garnish front is thickly sliced onion. Not only is eating raw onion the size of a cartwheel unpleasant, it can put an end to any romantic intentions you may have with you dinner partner. As hot-blooded chefs, do you really want that on your conscience? The alternative to raw onion is to caramelise them, or confit shallot. Both alternatives are fabulous with venison or buffalo. As far as the cheese is concerned, while processed cheese slices taste magnificent when raided from your girlfriend's fridge at midnight, they won't do justice to your flavour- filled, hand-crafted burger. Go for a good, strong cheddar, or Stilton. As well as mellowing the sharpness when grilled, its marbled colour gives extra dramatic effect when flowing down the side of the burger in the form of molten cheesy lava. For real attention to detail, char-grill the burger bun on each cut surface for a few seconds. This will help prevent the bread turning into sauce when it combines with the meat juices, and also add a good texture contrast.
A quality burger is certain to be one of your biggest-selling menu items - it's almost as popular as the pint you will inevitably serve it with. So don't hold back on something this good. Exploit the concept and generate a range and a reputation that would stop Genghis in his tracks - not to mention making Kroc look completely crap.
