Burger the Hut

Of all the burger joints on our list, none have quite the reputation of Hut's Hamburgers. It's hard to have any conversation about Austin's Best Burgers without this sixth street legend coming up. Many burger lists have it near the top, while some claim it's overrated.

Just because everyone says it's great, don't make it so.

Let us be the judge!

My first disclaimer is that we went on Wednesday, which is 2 for 1. Hut's has specials for every day of the week, but understandably, the 2 for 1 is a big draw. College kids to suits make their way to the Whole Foods end of sixth street to fill the cramped and boisterous restaurant. Texas-chic lines the walls in a noisy conflagration that adds to the old-time-meets-good-times feel. We were lucky to have some of us arrive early and get a prime table, thus avoiding the line out front.

My partner and I on the 2 for 1 went for the double w/cheese. The waitress was friendly and nonplussed by the crowds. Didn't bat an eye when I remembered almost too late for no mayo.

In no time, my burger arrived. And it was good. Two not-too-thin-not-too-thick patties in a nice bun made for a full flavored, unpretentious experience. The fries and rings were an afterthought as this solid burger wouldn't let me put it down until done. Hut's delivered when it had every reason to disappoint--the rep, the milling masses, the mythos--none got in the way of what is a really good burger.

This time around, the crowds don't lie.

Huts Burger

At first I was little resistant about Huts because of all of the hype. But I have to say it was delicious. We had no problem finding a parking spot or getting a table.

The buy one get 1 free worked out great for me and my friend. We split the original with mustard and no pickles. The onion rings were perfect.

I give it a 9.2 only because we still have a long list ahead of us.

Nuts for Huts

I was advised by a fellow blogger that, not only shouldn’t I drink from my neighbors cup (which I inadvertently did; I do not recommend it unless you enjoy being chastised for an ENTIRE meal), but that I must always preface my review with a note stating that I only have my burgers naked. Because of a throat closing, lung collapsing, life-threatening wheat allergy, I can not eat bread. The details of my food allergy are long and boring (this is not an allergy blog after all), but it never prevents me from participating in the delight of devouring a bun-less cheeseburger... and so my review begins.

Be warned, HUTS is not your local McDonalds food chain, so you should expect to wait at least twenty minutes for a table, and another twenty minutes for your amazing burger experience. On every inch of every wall is a plethora of old baseball and football pennants, framed photos of stars gone by, and a mounted longhorn, or two, plus a neon HUTS sign over the full service bar. It, I assume, has the Austin charm that so many of the locals are desperately fighting to preserve. I love Austin, don’t go changing...

This review is probably the most biased because HUTS is my most favorite Austin burger, ever. I have had it a handful of times and have always reveled in the HUTS dining experience. This past Wednesday was no exception. Well there was the cola incident, which left someone scarred for life... Apparently, Wednesdays is a bonus day! Who knew the delicious patty morsels could deliver even more joy?! It is a two-for-one special! BAM! This actually brings their normal price down to within a reasonably priced burger, but I am not complaining.

Huts is a great college student hangout, which sadly none of us are any longer, and is family friendly too. With that said, we wisely split the two-for-one and ate for half the burger price. The beef selection is considerable. You can choose from angus beef to the longhorn beef all the way through to the buffalo beef. I chose the basic Dag burger, which is a double patty with all the fixins, minus the bread. I ordered a basket of fries, which I shared, and a coke, which incidentally looked exactly like my neighbors coke (that, I was not supposed to share). It was delicious. Not the coke that is, the burger.

While there we made friends with a young naïve pie entrepreneur, who will undoubtedly name his pie company “Pie Hole,” or “Pie-destrian,” or “In Your Pie” simply because we demanded he should, in our drunken burger euphoria... He tolerated our company in exchange for the gifted burger that one of my fellow reviewers bestowed upon him. And he liked it. His table mates coveted his burger. They envied his good fortune. They paid us no mind. They were too busy having their own good times. Ain’t we lucky we got ‘em... But like most of our excursions, this was yet another memorable adventure. Not to be confused with our uneventful Austin treasure hunt debacle that will never be discussed, ever again.

My Dag burger and fries was filling and extremely satisfying, until somebody decided we should split milkshakes, which took our dining experience over the gastric edge. This is obviously less of a review than it is my personal burger dining diary, revealing my true burger lusting nature, but if you ask whether you should try Huts or not, I exclaim and emphatic YES! Go now. Don’t turn back. Go on without me. (Ridiculous drama ends here). I am nuts for Huts. It gets a sloppy 10 on my scorecard of beef. And if you go on a Wednesday and have an extra burger lying around, help a good cause, remember that children are our future, find em and feed them, let them lead the way and feed a college student. You won’t regret it.
Timbo

The Burger House built in Amityville

I delayed and stalled, denied my availability, and abstained from attending the Wednesday night burger experience for three weeks straight. I should have made up another excuse to avoid the Burger House burger exploit, but “I will go next week” lost its charm on my fellow burgermates. And how could I muster an excuse when they altered the schedule to accommodate my lazy a__.
First I must preface this review by saying that I have a wheat allergy. Although certain individuals, whom shall remain nameless, do not believe me, and welcome the opportunity to impale me in the chest, a la Pulp Fiction, with my epi-pen, this rare and (often) deadly allergy prevents me from indulging in any bread-related bun products. Therefore, all my burger reviews will be bun-less. For that I am sorry. (At least they are not meatless).
The energy in Burger House was lack luster. The decor nondescript. I ordered an Old Fashioned or a Mary Mary quite contrary naked with a fries and a coke. I should have paid more heed to the stigmata that revealed itself and warned of a cursed burger experience, but I did not. First, Satan taunted me on my reciept, with his $6.66 mark. Then, when I poured my coke from the fountain, a brownish, blood colored liquid curdled from the tap. It tasted like seltzer, but I knew the devil was near. Laughing as she prepared her toxic, odorless disk wedges. She knew I would not resist. Finally, while waiting outside in the dismally (rare) cloudy afternoon, the rattle of a death metal siren farted my order on the bullhorn. Like bullets sputtering, flailing and drowning a name, apparently mine. The disk they served me was bland, even with salt, ketchup, lettuce and tomato. The fries were over peppered and the coke (post fountain repair) was barely consumable... I didn’t even return for my obligated free refill. The only thing I can say positively about Burger House was the company I kept. There is safety from the devil in numbers. We laughed in the face of these artery clogging death disks and their textured blandness, and lived to tell this tall tale.
I can not and will not recommend Burger House because the only thing good about it (the company) is on to another venue, continuing the search for Austin’s Best Burger.
Sincerely,
Oprah

I hate cheese

Yes, the burgers were bad. All bloggers agreed on this. But the grilled cheese? Surely the comfort food of preadolescents and poor college students couldn't be ruined. Surely ...

After ordering my grilled cheese (no veggie burger here) and heading for the quiet patio, a gruff, garbled elecronic (some say devil) voice called out my name, I walked up to the window and picked it up, my own cheesy torture device. Between two toasted buns were three slices of American cheese, stubbornly square and not at all melted. The first bite was dissapointing. It was warm but not hot, soft but not gooey. The cheese had a greasy sheen from the over-buttered bun. I should have known after the first bite to put the sandwich down, but hunger drove me to finish. This was a bad move, something I'd regret later. That cheese danced an evil tribal stomp in my stomach hours after the taste of processed cheese had been pushed out of my memory.

I did like the fries. They were thin (I prefer thick), peppery and crisp -- a huge improvement on the main part of my meal. I'd say that the fries were a redeeming factor, but honestly anything would have trumped the sad excuse of a sandwich.

Burger House = Bad. If your all about good fries, McDonalds would be just as good and you'd get a better meal.

Burger House No Bueno

I ordered the old fashion minus pickles. It was not good. In fact I hated it. It tasted like the hamburgers you get in elementary school. Which were fine when you were 7 years old but as an adult you understand that soy/horse meat are not the way to make a good burger. I didn't even finish my burger. Plus, I had better fries from the frozen food section in HEB. To be fair, Let me say some good things about the place. The all you can pump ketchup outside was nice. The free refills on Coke products were good, but the best thing about the place was devil possessed intercom. At least we had something to laugh about other then the burger. I give The Burger House a 2 out of 10.

Another reason why Dallas sucks

Burger House is a Dallas-based chain that somehow found its way to Austin. Too bad for us.

I ordered a cheeseburger made "old fashioned," which includes mustard, pickles, and onions. I could definitely taste the pickles and mustard, but the burger itself was invisible. I thought this odd until I realized later that the meat was actually a ninja in disguise, hired to assassinate my colon. It nearly succeeded.

I felt sick for fourteen hours after eating this burger. And it wasn't a fluky, bacterial or food poisoning sickness. It was much more sinister. These burgers are up to no good.

On the other hand, the fries were okay, and they did toast the buns, and the bottom bun was nice and crisp. While I enjoyed it at the time, I know now that it was the sleight-of-hand, distraction technique that makes ninjitsu so mysterious and dangerous.

I will not go back to Burger House. I will not recommend it to anyone I know. Unless I've been hired to kill that person.

The Devil Built My Burger at the Burger House

Burger House is a new to Austin burger joint that seems to have a good reputation from parts Dallas, so I went with high expectations. On Spicewood Springs, the BH is a burger counter with a pretty full menu with some indoor seating and ample seating outside in a covered picnick style area. You order and they call you name when it's ready. I ordered the double-double (double meat double cheese) with fries and a coke, sat outside, and waited for burger nirvana to chase my rainy-day blues away.

A glance at my bill should have warned me otherwise. My total: $6.66!

Then they started calling names. At least, I think it was names. Either that or Lemmy from Motorhead was behind the register because all the names came out in a guttural demonic wail that was quite unsettling. I guess the outdoor speaker was broken...I hope it was...

Timing it right, I picked up my nice sized burger at the counter, grabbed some self-serve ketchup at the outside fixins bar, and took a bite. I ordered my burger with lettuce, tomato, grilled onions, and added the ketchup myself. Even with all that, the burger was pretty bland. The fries came peppered and were a nice size but also left something to be desired: taste.

I ate the whole thing and didn't feel disgusted with myself afterward, which was nice. But the Burger House was just an okay experience...one I don't plan on repeating.

Pros: Coke products and self-serve ketchup spout.

Cons: Bland food.

Unintentional Comedy Factor: The broken speaker was pretty funny.

Casino El Camino will make you Supremo Gordo

There are some very cool things about Casion El Camino. It's on 6th Street. The waitstaff and cook will treat you however they want and you'll take it. If you make it through the darkness of the bar, you'll find yourself in a funky open air atrium where you can escape 6th Street. And last but never least, they have Three Quarters Of A Pound Angus Burgers.

When the waitstaff is not on duty, the kitchen has a walk-up-cash-only-window where you order food. Beer is at the bar. After looking over my six options (ranging from $5.75-6.00), I chose the Pitts Burger, which came with sauteed mushrooms and onions, provolone cheese, and A-1 steak sauce. Fries were $1.25 extra. I opted for a basket for $2.75. A word to the wise: they only have so-much-room on the broiler and when it filled up we were told ours wouldn't be out for 45 minutes, fries and all...

Now these burgers are both a blessing and a curse. They taste great, they're messy as all get out, and you will not be hungry when you're done. That is, if you're able to finish.

My first mistake was eating lunch that day. These burgers are delicious but come at a colon-destroying-price. They are giant and seem to come on the rare side no matter how you order them. At first I was pumped. Now THIS was a burger. And the first bites can't be beat. But then comes the next bite, and the next, and the next. I had fleeting thoughts of giving up, of never eating again, of at least becoming a vegetarian...and then I started on the second half.

Don't get me wrong, I ate the whole damn burger. But it kicked my ass. I felt sick afterward. I felt gross. I felt shame. Yeah, there might have been some pride mixed in, but I realize now I don't want the Burger To End All Burgers.

Humbled, I give it a "heck-yeah" followed closely by a "oh-no-please-lord-help me."

Casino El Camino

I ordered the Chicago. I ate it in 3 minutes. It was fantastic! Then came the pain....Right after I ate it, I felt it. Sitting in my stomach pointing at me making jokes. Ha ha you ate a 3/4 pound of meat and now your gonna die. I would of thrown up if I had a chance, but the chunk of meat in my belly would not of moved even with a two finger tango.

I had to just sit rocking back and forth to the funky music until the rest of our group ate. It was hard. I sat in a broken chair that kept on pinching me but oddly enough it comforted me. It was the only other pain that could make me forget the popping and pinching taking place in my stomach.

When I wobbled home I quickly used the bathroom..eh eh then laid in bed. It was 8:30 and by 8:31 I passed out. No brushed teeth, no washed face, fully clothed and out cold. Like I was slipped a beef mickey.
When I finally came to, I looked in the mirror, I put on my fat dress and got to work at 3/4 of an hour late. 3/4 -Just like the burger. We are One now. Me and the burger.

I give the Chicago burger a 9 out of 10. I would of given it a 10 but it made me poop.

Fatty-Boom-Pattie

This place is on 6th Street, right next to Red River. It doesn’t look like much from the outside – it has the same drab windows that it had when it was Paddy McFiddlesticks or Pulse (both made-up club names). But when you walk in, you are in the middle of a 13-year-old boy’s dream pad. Faux rock formations, skeletos Mexicanos, labret-piercings, and extremely red light bulbs.

The jukebox is pretty cool – though the regulars there seemed to be playing a strange mix consisting of mostly unsuccessful progressive rockers who moved to Austin and tried to play the blues (Emerson, Lee Hooker and Palmer?). Someone did play a real great song – right as I was sinking my teeth into a fantastic burger that will be hard to beat by any other place on our list. The song was Mona by Bo Diddley, and it was so good that I had to put my burger down and make sure I knew which song it was so I could steal it from the poor old guy when I got home. It went:

Hey, Mona, hey hey hey hey, Mona,

I'm gonna tell you what I'm gonna do,
I'm gonna build my house next door to you,
Can I make love to you once in a while?
Maybe we could do a little kissing and tellin' lies.
When I come out on the front, girl,
You'll listen to my heart goin' bumpity bump.
I need you baby and it ain't no lie,
When I'm through lovin' I'll surely die.

You might look at these lyrics and wonder why you aren’t a bluesman. Pump your brakes, because like the blues, the hamburger is a deceptively hard art to master.

A burger really is just meat, bread and maybe some lettuce/tomat. The same way that they say “Do you want that with salad?”, or “It appears that I have ruptured my kidneys, perhaps I should go to hospital.” Why does such a cultured society talk like Cookie Monster?

While you might have the essential ingredients and the special sauce, G. Love, it doesn’t mean you have the burger. Good thing for us, Casino El Camino does. They got the big balls of Meat stacked like a Mayan Pyramid – weighing each one to make sure it’s ¾ of pound. These roofy-burgers can (and did) put a person to sleep. They also make the fries from scratch – squishing them whole in a press which shoots them out with the skins still attached.

Each of the burgers is named for a place. I had the Kansas City burger, which is covered in bbq sauce, cheddar and onions. At El Camino, the bread and fixings are just a holder for the massive patties. They are awesome. I usually like mine medium-well, but my KC was very rare with a lot of pink and I didn’t mind at all.

I have to recommend the place to anyone – regardless of your opinion of North American bread meat. The only bad thing I can say about my burger was that the bun was a little burnt. But considering that the patty outweighed the bun 10 to 1, my overwhelmed taste buds hardly registered the offense.

Finally, I have to the praise the “devils” in Casino’s “hell’s kitchen”. They are the salty burger-bluesmen who prove that good food, like good music, comes from pain – usually the diners’. When I asked for mustard on my KC – the cook stared at me and wordlessly finger-flicked a yellow plastic tube. He then condensed all of the salutary post-order information into, "Name? 25 minutes.”

No love left for the patrons…what do you think's in the burgers?


Casino El Camino

Tastiness – 98%
Greasy Spoon Factor – 96%
Heavy Metal Factor – 93%
Overall Rating – 96%

Rolling the Dice at Casino el Camino

If you haven't yet been to Casino El Camino, you're really missing one of Austin's best bars. Located on infamous 6th Street near Red River, Casino El Camino is the type of place you go to drink Pabst tall boys, shoot pool on red felt tables, and listen to one of the most comprehensive jukeboxes in Austin.

Every person who has ever visited me in Austin has been treated to time at the Casino. Nobody has ever left disappointed. The bartenders make stiff, competent drinks and the beer selection, bottles and cans, is decent. Not much on tap, but this is a dive, not some Gingerman/Draught House/Dog and Duck wanker pub.

We ordered beers and sat on the back patio, which has gotten more attention from the bar since the anti-smoking ordinance went into effect. Someone complained of the smell, which could have been coming off the back alley or been caused by this guy.

Other, lamer reviewers might make a big deal about the smell, but you do have to remember you're on 6th Street. It smells on 6th Street.


Ordering is a process, but it is efficient if a little surly. You tell the dude at the kitchen window what you want, he tells you how much it is. All prices include tax, so there's no fumbling for pennies here. Two guys cook on one grill, so it will take a while to get your burger. But if you're in a hurry, you shouldn't be eating here anyway.

I ordered the Amarillo, which is 3/4 pounds of beef served up with pepperjack cheese and roasted serrano peppers. The burgers come cooked medium, regardless of what you tell the chef. And special requests usually get you a blank stare, so it's best just to order your burger, pay or put it on your tab, and come back when they tell you.

Our table's order was split. Two people got their burgers before me, and I had to drink my beer while they chewed and slurped and moaned. Finally, the cook barked my name from the doorway, and I was on my way.


The burger was hot, the basket of fries I ordered was also hot. The fries, by the way, start as whole potatoes that are cut and fried on the spot. Thick, greasy, and delicious.

Nothing about this burger fails. Meat spills from under the bun like a fat girl's ass in a bikini, but in this case it's a sight of beauty. Cheese is always melted perfectly, and the bun is grilled alongside the beef.

Each bite was juicy, beefy bliss. I was just hungry enough and just drunk enough not to respect this burger, and I wolfed it down in fifteen minutes. I payed my dues for the rest of the night as the burger worked my guts, but I can't blame the burger. It hurt me because it loved me.



The burgers at Dirty Martin's are 19-year-old skinny teases compared to this—the plump madam of the whorehouse who knows positions that are illegal to even mention in fifteen states. This burger makes you feel both very dirty and very, very good. I give the burger a 9, but I must admit Casino el Camino was my favorite coming into this search. Still, the burger is really fucking great.

Dirty's

When it feels like the world is on your shoulders
and all of the madness has got you goin crazy

It's time to get out, step out into the street*
Where all of the action is right there at your feet

*Guadalupe Street (Pronounced gwa-da-LOOP. See also, MEZ-kins.)

It seems like every town has a Dirty’s – a place that everyone knows about but few people actually visit. A place where homeless snowbirds and tiny nuclear families led by retired frat-boy patriarchs both try to hold on to a piece of American culture that was dying when their parents were in high school. But grease is grease, and damn if it doesn’t taste great.

Dirty’s has one of those cool parking lots like Sonic where you drive under the covered areas. But unlike Sonic, a sign tells you to leave on your headlights for curbside service – smart. Walking in to Dirty’s makes you wonder what this old piece was originally. There is a cramped wood-panelled diner with small booths and stools where hungry truck drivers can quickly get a hamburger and make a dash to deliver their Bootlegged Coors to Texarkana or whatever they hell they do.

I suggest you forego this part of the place and make your way to the back patio. This is a real experience. From the back of the building, the outside dining area forms an isosceles triangle that splits the oncoming traffic of Guadalupe in half like a piece of lardy cherry pie. This combined with the ridiculously reinforced steel cage that incases the place makes you feel like your in the front row of a NASCAR race – which most of the people eating at the place probably can relate to (More Earnhardt fans than Gordon I reckon).

My burger was ok. The meat was a little tasteless, but the bun was nice and buttery and I like how they toast them on the grill like your supposed to do. I also appreciated the way the mix up the onions and mayo/mustard into a gooey mess and smear it on the bun.

I was admittedly wrapped up in the proletariat dining experience, and I decided to bring the meal to a crescendo with a classic Coke float. What I forgot was that De Barge was playing on the classic 80’s station, and I had lost my lactose enzyme since they had been on regular rotation. I began to feel hot and woozy, and if I had been more of a man, I might have assisted my natural inclination to feed the fishes in the Kum-Back Baño. Yeah, I don’t recommend them there. The ice-cream is soft serve and despite the billing, this style of ice cream does not mesh well with carbonated beverages – or 30-year-old, lactaid-intolerant stomachs.

So anyway, go to Dirty’s and forget about the troubles on your mind, you can leave them all behind. Not just Yeah. I’m talking to the beat of the rhythm of the night, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.

Dirty’s Kum-Back Burgers

Tastiness – 70%
Greasy Spoon Factor – 95%
Wow Factor – 90%
Overall – 85%

Dirty Martin's

The search for the Best Burger In Austin (BBIA) started, for me at least, when Lucy's Boatyard closed (they put something in those burgers that spoke to me on multiple levels...).

I've driven by Dirty Martin's many times and never thought to stop. The full name of the place seems to be Dirty Martin's Kum-Bak Place, which makes me uncomfortable. But I'd heard that the burgers were good, and that'll make up for a lot. Ambiance really isn't a word that should be used with Dirty's, it's an unassuming burger joint with an easy going attitude. We ate outside in the gated patio as Guadalupe traffic buzzed.

The Large Cheese Burger ($4.85) has two thin patties and comes with mayo, pickle, and tomato. Fries or any sides are extra. I axed the mayo and got it on a wheat bun w/out a hitch. In no time, our burgers came--as ordered--and the real test came.

The patties are thin, so don't expect juiciness. But expect flavor, of which mine had plenty. The melted cheese and the generous pickles and tomatoes were enough to get a couple of yum-burger-nods. But it was over too soon, and I was left to look longingly across the table at the basket of fries and onion rings my companions wisely thought to order.

I did order a chocolate milkshake but sadly it was was mediocre at best.

Next time I'd take more advantage of the half price apps and get some more fixin's on the burger to make it more substantial.

Dirty Pros: tasty burger, ample parking, beer, and outside eating area.
Dirty Cons: Smallish burgers, imposing signage, and mediocre shakes.

Result: A pretty good burger! But left me wanting more...

Dirty's Burger Taste Test

I am not a big fan of the Dirty's regular burger and here’s why. I ordered the regular instead of the large because, well, I'm girl and I thought it would be just the right amount of food. Even though the waitress warned me about the size, I ordered it. She was right. It was small—it was small even for me.



The fries were ok. The onion rings looked nice, but they tasted like old grease. They did serve Coke products, but I opted for a beer, which they mistakenly didn't charge us for two of them. That was nice.



The atmosphere was interesting. A weird guy was trying to get my attention, so I did one of those "pretend-not-to-notice look arounds." It worked. I have to admit that there's something kind of nice being outside right in the middle of Guadalupe, hearing the cars drive by, hanging with friends, and listening to '80s music.

I give Dirty’s a 4 out of 10. Let the quest continue.

Dirty Martin's 2/21/2007

I like Dirty's because it reminds me of a brief tryst I had with this girl I knew in college who had Tourette Syndrome. We ate there once, and it was one of the few places where we ate together before she moved to New York.

I ordered the appetizer sampler for the table, which was half-priced. I liked the fried broccoli and the corn nuggets. Everything else was mediocre. And the sampler was served with ranch, which is fine for your fried mushrooms, but not a good choice for fried cheese sticks. Who eats fried cheese with ranch dressing? Germans pretending to be Americans so they can learn our secrets, that's who. If you see someone enjoying fried cheese with ranch dressing, call Homeland Security. Seriously.

The main event was a double cheeseburger with extra pickles and mustard. I'm not an overly fat man, nor do I think the only way to enjoy a burger is to eat a pound of it at a time. But the normal burgers at Dirty's are small. Their regular burger would be a "junior" burger at most other places. So the double burger was about the right size. The meat was tasty, there were plenty of pickles on my burger, and a nice slather of mustard coated the top bun.

Now, here's where things are going to get complicated. We started this blog to find "the best burger in Austin," and our list is pretty eclectic. For example, next week we're going to the Roaring Fork, which is an entirely different burger experience. For me, Dirty's is where the burger starts. No burger should be worse than a burger at Dirty's if you are serious about enjoying your burger.

I give Dirty's a 6 out of 10. Order it with some onion rings and a pint of Lone Star, and you'll have a well-coordinated, low-rent burger joint experience. If you like fancy burgers, handcrafted beer, cloth napkins, and some hoity-toity with your fries, come back next week.