BURGER FRIDAY: NICKEL SANDWICH GRILL.
Life is full of surprises, and one of them is the towering Nickel Burger at the Nickel Sandwich Grill, a classic burger-and-friedfood stand in Fifth Ward.
The chalkboard menu in front of the walk-up ordering window has all the standards for the genre: the burgers and fries, the fried catfish and shrimp and chicken. Barbecue and soul-food sides, too, as well as the object of my eternal quest: peach cobbler.
A tipster had clued me to the Nickel’s hand-cut fries, another questy obsession of mine, so I phoned in an order because the stand is doing only takeout these days. Then I set out from my home in the East End, sailing up the industrial stretches of Lockwood to “The Nickel,” as the historic Black neighborhood of Fifth Ward is known.
When I unwrapped the foil swaddling my Nickel Burger and took a bite, my eyebrows shot up toward my hairline. Here’s how it went.
PRICE: $7 for the humongous Nickel Burger; 40 cents for cheese; $1.85 for added french fries and an enormous root beer, for an eminently reasonable $9.20.
ORDERING: You can place an order by calling 713-674-8020 or by walking up to the front window. I recommend the latter unless you live very close by.
ARCHITECTURE: Salad stuff on the bottom. On a thinnish, golden-yellow bun that had been toasted on the griddle went a swipe of mayonnaise; some chopped romaine lettuce; a couple of thin tomato slices; some slivers of red onion; and a scattering of corrugated dill pickle rounds.
Next came the mighty, inch-tall beef patty, a slice of American cheese and a swipe of mustard clinging to the top half of the bun.
QUALITY: The surprise, dear readers, was that the Nickel Burger patty was smoked!
At first glance, the meat looked exceptionally charred and welldone, which is the cooking style I have come to expect in Houston’s old-line Black neighborhood joints. But instead of searing its patties on a griddle, the Nickel pops them in with the barbecue, and the result is a lovely strong smoke flavor that permeates the whole sandwich.
It reminded me most strongly of the smoked burgers served at the late Guy’s Meat Market on Old
Spanish Trail. The patty had a similarly dense texture, and though the interior was not dry, it lacked the juiciness that can be achieved on the flattop.
As a sandwich whole, this burger was swaggery and satisfying, with a classic Texas mayomustard-pickle flavor profile. I liked the use of romaine for the lettuce layer and the pop of the shaved red onion. But the smokiness was the thing that kept me eating long after I was full.
OOZE RATING: Not applicable. LETTER GRADE: B
VALUE: Very good.
BONUS POINTS: I could tell the french fries had been right up my alley when they emerged from the fryer. They were deeply browned, had some of their skins on and had the slick texture of real potato rather than freezer fluff. But, alas, I had ordered them too far in advance, and I took too long driving to pick them up, so they were soggy and dispirited. These are the kind of fries you want to order over the phone sitting right there in the parking lot or at the walk-up window. I could kick myself.
MINUS POINTS: The diminutive onion rings, once I got them home and sprung them from their little paper sack, tasted for all the world like sodden funnel cakes with just a suggestion of onion flavor. I’ve never encountered anything quite like them.
STUFF FOR LATER: So, I messed up not only on my order versus pickup timing but also on my choice of items for later. What was I thinking when I ordered that porkchop sandwich? Maybe that
it would be smothered style instead of fried, so that the surprisingly thick, good quality chop lost its initial curb appeal as it sat steaming inside its twin layers of grilled Texasstyle toast. And why, oh why, did I think a fried catfish po’ boy would survive the period between phoning in my order and arriving back home? I should’ve gone for the barbecue, but I foolishly relied on my rule that you only order ’cue at a barbecue specialist, not where it’s part of some broader menu.
Live and learn. I was happy enough with my peach cobbler, though, oddly comforted by its strong dose of cinnamon and crumbly logs of cookielike pie crust.
LOCAL COLOR: At2 p.m., there was a steady trickle of masked supplicants
at the front window, everybody standing at social distances, awaiting service from a masked staffer. A couple of tables with chairs sat under the overhang of the long, shedlike structure, and when I arrived I spotted a postal worker finishing her lunch.
There was cheerful mosaic-style mural art to contemplate on the parking-lot fence, including a
Wheatley Wildcat, mascot of the local high school; and a bright-red catfish every bit as long as the one filleted for my po’ boy.
But my greatest delight was realizing that the Nickel Sandwich Grill, which has served its neighborhood since 2001, sits at the corner of Lyons and Chew.
Too perfect.