Our household's love affair with The Great Big Burger Book continues unabated. Someone in the house picks out a new burger for us every week, to be served - regardless of the serving suggestions - with a sheet pan full of Tater Tots. It's entirely possible that this will be the first cookbook I make every single recipe from, assuming I can find a fishmonger somewhere in the area to supply me suitably for Chapter 3 (I am ignorant and useless when it comes to cooking fish, so I'm afraid of making substitutions)(among other problems)(clearly I need a cookbook dedicated entirely to fish so that I can finally learn how to cook it)(I eat sushi, fer cryin' out loud - why am I so terrified of undercooking seafood? The worst that can happen is I'll kill us all from some food-borne pathogen).
This latest burger has been made significantly less posh by my interpretation. Billed as "the rich man's hamburger," it has a lovely list of ingredients that didn't quite exist in my pantry as written; there is no greater indicator of my growth as a cook than my confidence in modifying and substituting in recipes, and this one is a great example. I can only imagine how delightful this would be if I actually followed the recipe, as the bougie-fied version was really flavorful and made outstanding leftovers. As written, the recipe made one half-pound burger and claimed that even if you were full you'd be willing to eat the entire thing, which I don't doubt. However, we've all learned a valuable lesson from the Big Mock double-decker burger experiment - namely, don't. Making yourself sick from overeating is not necessarily a compliment to the cook.
I'm writing the recipe as we made it, with smaller 1/4-pound patties that make a more reasonable serving size. A little goes a long way with these, honestly. One of these days I'll revisit it and faithfully follow the recipe, perhaps when I've cooked my way through the rest of the book. In the meantime, here's my version, which is somewhere above solidly-middle-class but nowhere near posh: The Bougie Burger.
Adapted from The Great Big Burger Book by Jane Murphy and Liz Yeh Singh. I can't believe I haven't yet convinced you to buy it, this is a fantastic cookbook.
The Bougie Burger
1 lb top round
1 small onion, minced
2 Tbsp Dijon mustard
4 dashes Tabasco or hot sauce of your choice, possibly scaled up a bit if you're feeling it. I used a big dollop of Anna's Fuego from Spicy Caribbee, which I don't expect anyone who hasn't visited San Juan lately has in their fridge
4 egg yolks. Under no circumstances should you listen to your husband and use the whole egg, because your burgers will be gloppy and thus crack in the pan and you will be sad
4 dashes Worchestershire sauce
2 Tbsp dry sherry or whiskey (I realize these are not substitutes for each other in any normal sense. Use 2 Tbsp cognac instead, depending on the state of your liquor cabinet. I was absolutely not going to buy cognac just for this purpose)
1 tsp salt
2 Tbsp capers, drained and chopped
2 tsp freshly ground black pepper. Yes, it makes a difference here.
1 Tbsp butter plus 1 Tbsp oil
Pulse the beef in the food processor until it's coarsely ground. Honestly, this makes such a superior meat I can't believe I don't do it for all my burgers. Hahahahahaha. But really it does make a difference. Gently mix in all the other ingredients except the butter and oil, then form into 4 patties.
Melt the butter and oil together in a large skillet. Fry the burgers until they're as done as you like; 4 minutes per side gave me a nice medium burger.
The original version calls for blotting the pan, then frying the bun cut side-down and serving it with a mustard-horseradish butter and some good bleu cheese crumbled over the top. We served the burgers naked on a sesame seed bun and they were delightful, but I have no doubt that the original version is superior in every way. Do please buy the cookbook and try it, and let me know how it goes.
