It was just last week that I finally made it a point to find Ann’s Snack Bar, home of the Ghetto Burger of which I had heard and read countless stories. I missed it on the first pass. Like most foodie legends, it was an unassuming shack nestled in between a run-down strip mall and a liquor store.
I parked my car in one of the few parking spots and looked through the screened in porch to see five steps leading into the small building. I found it only appropriate that something of such legendary status should be obtained easily or without obstacles. So, I got out of my car and headed into the porch to figure out how I was going to get what I came for.
Inside the porch were a few metal tables and chairs, three college students were sitting at one of the tables. The five stairs led up to glass doors… and through the front windows I saw exactly what had been described to me. A counter with eight stools… with not much more than 20 inches behind the seats to the front wall. In the center of the counter was a register. Behind the counter was the only thing more legendary than the hamburger, Ann.
Ann is in her 70’s from what I know. She’s the only person behind the counter. In fact, she’s only person working period. Ann is legendary because of the rules she has set for her patrons. She’s also legendary because of her way of enforcing those rules. I honestly think she puts Seinfeld’s Soup Nazi to shame, but more on that later.
I asked the students if they had been inside yet. “We tried, but she yelled at us and told us to wait outside” They had already broken the first rule. If there is not a seat at the counter, you do not go inside. You wait outside until a seat opens up. Then, if one seat opens… only one person goes inside. When ordering for more than one person at Ann’s, teamwork is essential. I said I’d give them a rundown of the way things worked if they would place my order for me once inside. They agreed.
First, one seat… one person… we already learned that. Second, no cell phones… you’ll get thrown out. Third, no cursing or complaining, you’ll get thrown out. Fourth, you don’t speak until spoken to. Fifth, when you are spoken to, know what you want and order it quickly. Sixth, get ready to wait patiently.
Although there are many items on the menu, the only thing I saw anyone ordering was the Ghetto Burger: Two handmade massive patties totaling a pound of ground chuck on an oversized bun with chili, cheese, grilled onions, tomato, lettuce, mustard, mayonnaise, and ketchup. Two people can share a single combo by splitting the burger and fries. Most people just get the burger alone and eat it for lunch and dinner.
After about 30 minutes, a seat opened up and our elected representative went in to order. Waiting is part of the experience. It’s not unusual to spend 2+ hours waiting to get your burger. Ann makes every order… in order… by hand. The patties aren’t seasoned, formed, and cooked until they’re ready to be made and since she’s the only person… every burger gets very special attention.
During my hour and 45 minute wait, I met a few people outside. Most of them were from out of town, brought by a friend to experience a bit of Atlanta lore. We all sat around and talked about other foodie legends around town and around the country. We snickered laughed together as someone unaware of the rules would walk in and immediately come running back out… Ann’s voice chasing them down the stairs. There was a sense of camaraderie that you don’t really find on your typical lunch outing and I got the sense that most people were the as much for the experience as for the food.
Finally, our guy came outside with the bags and he handed me my monster. There was no way to eat this thing in the car, so I race home. I opened it up and laughed at the ridiculousness of the burger… grabbed my camera… and took pictures of my first Ghetto Burger. Chili and juices oozes out and I strained to open my mouth wide enough to get a bite. However, that first bite was truly extraordinary. It’s rare for anything to live up to it’s lore, but this was every bit as spectacular. After a good 15 minutes, I got down half of the beast and realized if I ate anymore… bad things were going to happen.
It’s becoming evident that one day Ann will have to retire and when that happens, the only thing we’ll have left are the stories of the experience. One more piece of a rapidly dying world will cease to exist. So, I recommend that you take the time one day soon to go take your turn and rather than getting things your way… get them Ann’s way… and like it or get the fuck out.
Drop me a line if you need emotional support… or someone to help you eat your burger.
Dining Out, Food | 8 Comments »
