Every good burger has a history and The Dram Shop burger is no exception. It has stood the test of time, having first been served over 60 years ago at the Mallow Grocery in Dallas, Texas. Now the good people of Park Slope can partake of this delicious mess. Don't even bother with a menu. Just ask for the burger. Two square paddies with cheese is the standard here, but you can ask for a single or add a third. I have sworn to eliminate the words "hold the..." from my vocabulary and to just take things as they are intended to be- pickles and all. On the napkin scale of things- five were handed to me and all but one used. As you can see from the picture, this burger isn't served "neat". You may want to tie your hair back and maybe even tuck a napkin into your shirt, because the lettuce, pickles, mayo, mustard, tomato, and diced onions, all lightly glistening with the right amount of grease, have a way of oozing out the side. But once you pick it up, just go for it.
The Dram Shop Bar is located at 339 9th Street, Brooklyn. Looks like a great spot to watch sports, play pool, and even shuffleboard if you fancy. Can be a bit dark, but there is an outdoor patio at the back if you need to escape the slightly cavernous feel of the bar area. Booth seating is also available.
I get a craving for a burger only once in a while. But when I do, I am willing to make a trek for the best burger I can find. From the upper west side, to the depths of Brooklyn, one saturday afternoon led me to the Dram Shop after hearing whispers of its storied past and the straightforward unapologetic character of this burger. Messy, undoubtedly, but delicious through and through. I can't recall the fries,unremarkable to me, but the draft beer and burger were the perfect late Saturday afternoon fare. Everything comes together in the Dram Shop burger: seasoning, cooking time, cheese and toppings to make one memorable bite after another. The balance is perfect. You are not left with too much meat and too little burger, or a pile of lettuce shreds and ketchup drippings on the paper liner. The only memory is a nice pools of burger juice glistening with a pleasant sheen of grease.
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