Carnivores’ Delicious Dilemma

BurgerMeister Upgrades an American Classic in Alameda

It’s almost hard to wrap the brain around the insistent, and persistent, success of BurgerMeister, the intimate and local chain of quality burger joints. After all, BurgerMeister shares a Bay Area topography with the acclaimed author of The Omnivore’s Dilemma, Cal professor Michael Pollan, who advises us all to “Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.”
But who wants to eat at PlantMeister? Not Paul Mogannam, who opened the first BurgerMeister storefront in 1999 in San Francisco’s Cole Valley and began expanding his empire o’ meat at nearly the same time as some researchers began equating red meat consumption with global warming. In fact, just days before Mogannam unveiled his fifth and latest BurgerMeister in the Art Deco haunches of the restored Alameda Theatre on Central Avenue, National Public Radio once again thumped its chest on behalf of the Slow Food movement and restoked the flames against, in essence, the cheeseburger.
The Slow Food movement, though, is no match for BurgerMeister’s fast(ish) food. Besides, how can a restaurant redolent of simpler times with its warm red-and-yellow color scheme—a palette that begins outside the Alameda restaurant with canopied umbrellas that hover like maraschino cherries in a fleet of Shirley Temples—be the big bad ozone eater? How can a spot that serves ground chuck on a cumulus cloud bun be the enemy? How can a joint that serves malts (malts!) be bad?
Well, because sometimes it’s good to be bad, and Mogannam has tread the line deftly, choosing back in 1999 to serve only hormone-free beef from Niman Ranch, a then-boutique operation that prided itself in being local and sustainable. Smart move, serving hormone-free homey food. Dazzled by the Niman Ranch sign in the Cole Valley restaurant’s window, foodies were lured to the spot, a former creperie also owned by Mogannam, which at the time was known mostly for being the last storefront seen from the N-Judah before the train entered the Sunset Tunnel.
Though Niman Ranch at the time made the restaurant cutting edge, the decision to continue serving its meat today seems almost quaint. After all, Niman meat has become ubiquitous throughout the nation, and grass-fed beef is by far considered the better way to be bad these days. Then again, maybe it’s all quaintness by design. Like the stacks of malted milk powder that rest on the shelves of the Alameda location’s open kitchen.
What wasn’t necessarily by design, though, was BurgerMeister’s entree to Alameda. Although the family-friendly philosophy and menu for this location are the same as the other BurgerMeisters (there are three in San Francisco and one in Daly City), the Central Avenue location was not originally in the company’s business plan. Instead, a longtime customer at the original San Francisco location who had strong ties with the city of Alameda recommended that BurgerMeister be one of the storefronts to occupy the space in and adjacent to the Alameda Theatre after renovation was complete. There was a fly in the catsup, however: The city wanted the incoming restaurant to have a separate bar area. No previous BurgerMeister had one.
“It was a unique situation,” says Ibby Mogannam, cousin of owner Paul, and his assistant in operations. “It shares the theater building, and someone at the city suggested we add a bar. The idea was to say, ‘Hey, come and hang out with us after work for cocktails and nibbles.’ It’s not dark and gloomy; it’s not seedy. It’s designed to be a neighborhood place.”
As it turns out, the bar area with its tall chairs and tables and PG-boozy atmosphere works. And though wait staff at only the second BurgerMeister to have table service is sometimes raw—on one night the restaurant manager tried seating a family with an infant in the bar area, apparently not realizing the difference between a high chair and a chair that is, well, high—the whole restaurant is as family friendly as its menu.
And how about that menu? Buffed out just this past year, it’s a carnivore’s dilemma. There are half-pound burgers eight ways not including customized versions, with the most popular being the cheeseburger ($9.50) with a choice of six cheeses, and the MeisterBurger ($12.75), a monstrous double handful that nears a half-foot in height, with bacon, double cheese, avocado, grilled onions and mushrooms. There’s a hot dog cart, too, with the dogs served split down the middle and charred on either side, and four half-pound specialty dogs were added this year: the San Francisco (with grilled onions, Swiss cheese and sautéed mushrooms, $8.20), Chicago (with relish, tomatoes, jalapeños and dill pickle, $7.40), Coney Island (with chili con carne, red onions and cheddar, $8) and Manhattan (with sauerkraut and sautéed onions, $7.60). Confusing the matter further are a smattering of other home-style ballpark-meets-pub grub: Fish and chips, anyone? Grilled ham and cheese? And how about that vegan burger, and salads made with ingredients from local farmers?
But stick with the meat dishes. There may be a hole in the ozone, but you won’t leave with one in your stomach.

The Details

BurgerMeister. American.
Serves 11 a.m.–11 p.m. daily. 1345 Park St.,
2319 Central Ave., (510) 865-3032,
www.burgermeistersf.com.
Credit cards accepted, Full bar, Wheelcahir accessible, $-$$

—By Candace Murphy
—Photography by Deborah Sherman

This article appears in the December 2008 issue of Alameda Magazine
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