Nothing beats aroma of an old burger jointThe world is full of hamburger joints, but they lack the incredible aroma of those old-time cafes you could find along the side of the road in almost every town in South Dakota when I grew up.
I remember most the smell of hamburger patties frying on a grill as broad as the deck of an aircraft carrier. At a corner of the grill, hamburger buns browned slowly. While the burger fried, the cook cut a huge pickle into thin slices to toss atop the patty. The finished burger came to the table with the edges fried black and the center deep brown and oozing juice.
By: Terry Woster, Republic columnist