Men of prodigious appetites often become known for their favorite foodstuffs. Elvis Presley had his fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches. John Madden enjoys a good turducken when the season is right. "Joliet" Jake Blues famously ordered "four fried chickens and a Coke." And now, Luther Vandross has, as part of his legacy, the Luther Burger.
A nice homey Midwestern state like Wisconsin is the perfect place to find one. We love our massive cream puffs, and please don't skimp on the fried cheese curds. On any given day, we can walk into a place like The Old Fashioned and order a burger with a slab of braunschweiger or a sunny-side-up egg right on top. So why the heck not serve up a bacon cheeseburger nestled lovingly between two glazed doughnuts?
The legend has it that, in a bunless moment, the late R&B singer requested that his bacon cheeseburger be served between Krispy Kreme doughnuts, and the Luther Burger was born. Necessity, as they say, is the mother of overconsumption, and the rest is history. Or legend. Maybe. It's hard, if at all possible, to really say for certain that Mr. Vandross was responsible for the creation of this naked singularity of junk, convenience, grease, and sugar. It seems certain that a pub in Decatur, Georgia, named Mulligan's was the first place to serve the Luther Burger commercially. But whatever the true origins, it'd be too hard to rename the thing now. Luther was a jovial fellow; he'd probably get a kick out of it.
If the marriage of bakery and flame broiling doesn't seem like a perfect match, there's no arguing with the union of minor league baseball and wacky promotions. From Hairiest Back at the Ballpark Night to Speed Dating Night -- let's hope the two never coincide -- America's rookie and semi-pro franchises have proven that they'll do almost anything to drum up interest. The Frontier League Gateway Grizzlies in suburban St. Louis seized on the Luther Burger back in 2006 with their own “Baseball’s Best Burger,” adapting the monstrosity to the ballpark setting. Now Madison’s own baseball team is joining in on the gluttony.
The Madison Mallards are giving the Luther Burger concept a shot this season, serving it early in June and bringing it back for the 2008 Northwoods League All-Star Game. Named the “Glazer Bacon Cheeseburger” on the menu board at Stoddard’s Smokehouse behind the Duck Pond grandstand, the sandwich is slated to be available through this week’s homestand ending on Sunday, July 20. Fellow Isthmus writer Kristian Knutsen and I decided to pair up for this experience at the All-Star Fan Fest last Sunday, in case one of us needed to perform chest compressions or run for help.
It's appropriate, I guess, that the Luther Burger at the Duck Pond isn't quite the Luther Burger of legend. It was only recently that I realized that the Mallards aren't actually MLB-affiliated, so calling the Northwoods League "minor league baseball" in the traditionally understood sense is a similar malapropism. But in both circumstances, the slightly inaccurate nomenclature is close enough.
Among the many Luther Burgers I found while researching this story, the version served at (of all places) the Google cafeteria in New York City looks like it would be the most solid effort. Google's burger, and others, keeps the traditional bun/burger relationship mostly intact. The doughnut is butterfly-sliced down the middle, and each cut side is toasted or grilled. The twist comes literally, as the doughnut "bun" is inverted so the unglazed cut surface is where hand meets fate. Convenient!
I have to admit that it was a slight let-down when I realized that the burger we'd be enjoying was not made with Krispy Kreme doughnuts, but rather with the Kwik Trip cognate, the Glazer. Like most things Kwik, the fact that they're done doesn't mean they're done well. No mass-produced doughnut could hope to compare to Krispy Kreme's cotton-candy lightness or face-glazing sweetness. The Glazer doughnuts were too bready and dense, making the Luther that much harder to consume. The sheer verticality of beef and bacon would normally be enough to induce TMJ.
The beef, however, is pretty decent. While Maynard’s Slide In at the Pond offers locally-sourced burgers made fresh, even these pre-made patties are substantial, fairly lean, and definitely flavorful. The bacon and cheese get washed out between the big flavor of the burger and the sticky sweetness of the doughnut. Beware that finger-licking glaze, by the way; small flies actually stuck to our hands after finishing our meal.
If you've been tempted by the McDonald's McGriddles sandwich, you're probably in the target demographic for the Glazer Bacon Cheeseburger. But even if you're just a fan of the Mallards experience, it's worth taking a flyer on. It's true: between the brisket, the brats, and the Curd Burger -- yes, a burger topped with cheese curds -- there's a lot to take in at the park. But this Luther Burger will be gone for who knows how long after Sunday.
Order one up soon. Like Luther's first solo single, one Luther Burger is never too much.
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