go to Ted’s. If you are looking for a potentially healthy burger, go to Ted’s. If you are looking for a char-grilled cheeseburger, don’t go to Ted’s. Ted’s Restaurant is the epicenter of the steamed cheeseburger world—a burger that only exists in central Connecticut. A former owner of Ted’s Restaurant, Ted’s son, Paul Duberek, once told me, “Within 25 miles of here there are about seven steamed cheeseburger places, but we’re the only ones that make ten hot dogs a week and 800 steamed cheeseburgs.”
The steamed “cheeseburg,” as it’s referred to at Ted’s, is just what you’d think it would be—a steamed patty of ground beef on a bun. What you wouldn’t expect is that the cheese is steamed too, steamed to a molten goo. The process starts with a steaming cabinet that holds 20 small stainless steel trays. Specially ground fresh chuck is pressed into the trays and these are placed in the cabinet. The meat cooks through but stays
amazingly moist and unfortunately, looks like gray matter. The result is a burger that loses most of its fat content (it gets poured off) and retains a truly beefy flavor. A “secret” cheese (Paul told me it’s an aged Vermont cheddar, but that’s as far as he’d go) is also placed in the small trays in a separate steamer. Once gooey, the cheese is poured onto the burger, served with tomato, ketchup or mustard (or both), lettuce, and a slice of onion, and placed on a soft kaiser roll.
The origins of the steamed cheeseburger are a bit murky, but it’s believed to have originated at Jack’s Lunch in Middletown sometime in the’30s. Ted Duberek opened his restaurant in 1959 to feed the immense local factory worker population. For over 100 years, that area of Connecticut was home to some of the largest silverware manufacturers and they had shifts around the clock. Ted’s used to stay open until 4 a.m., but started closing earlier as the factories moved their business overseas.
In 2007, suffering from back trouble, Paul Duberek decided to leave the business and sold Ted’s to his nephew Bill Cally. Bill was no stranger to the steamed cheeseburg and had worked at Ted’s on and off during high school and college. Not surprisingly Bill did not change much about the place and plans to own Ted’s for a very long time. He told me, “I count my lucky stars everyday.”
5
DELAWARE
CHARCOAL PIT
2600 CONCORD PK | N. WILMINGTON, DE 19803
302-478-2165
(2 OTHER LOCATIONS AROUND WILMINGTON)
WWW.CHARCOALPIT.NET
MON–THU 11 AM–MIDNIGHT
FRI & SAT 11 AM–1 AM | SUN 11 AM–MIDNIGHT
W hen Charcoal Pit opened in 1956, it was way out on the Concord Pike surrounded by fields and very few other businesses. “It was all farmland and nothing but a two-lane road,” manager of 42 years Frank Kucharski said, looking out the window of this time-warp diner. “Hard to imagine now.” Yes, it is. Concord Pike today is a densely packed commercial strip. It’s a wonder this burger gem is still standing.
From the outside, Charcoal Pit looks virtually unchanged since the 1950s. The restaurant’s boomerang-inspired marquee with its pudgy pink neon lettering is authentically retro. The interior has seen a few upgrades and design changes over the years and blends styles from the past five decades. If you’re lucky, you’ll be seated at a booth with a tabletop jukebox. These are not props. They actually work. Holly Moore, Philadelphia area food writer and a man who knows where to find the best greasy food anywhere, told me, “Think Richie, Potsie, and Ralph Malph in a corner booth and Al flipping burgers behind the counter. There’s something unmistakably genuine about eating at Charcoal Pit that needs to be experienced.”
The burgers are cooked over an open flame, as the restaurant’s name implies. The large gas grill, in full view of the dining room, is outfitted with a bed of lava rocks that help to evenly distribute the heat. Grillman of 19 years, Lupe spends hours
The steamed “cheeseburg,” as it’s referred to at Ted’s, is just what you’d think it would be—a steamed patty of ground beef on a bun. What you wouldn’t expect is that the cheese is steamed too, steamed to a molten goo. The process starts with a steaming cabinet that holds 20 small stainless steel trays. Specially ground fresh chuck is pressed into the trays and these are placed in the cabinet. The meat cooks through but stays
amazingly moist and unfortunately, looks like gray matter. The result is a burger that loses most of its fat content (it gets poured off) and retains a truly beefy flavor. A “secret” cheese (Paul told me it’s an aged Vermont cheddar, but that’s as far as he’d go) is also placed in the small trays in a separate steamer. Once gooey, the cheese is poured onto the burger, served with tomato, ketchup or mustard (or both), lettuce, and a slice of onion, and placed on a soft kaiser roll.
The origins of the steamed cheeseburger are a bit murky, but it’s believed to have originated at Jack’s Lunch in Middletown sometime in the’30s. Ted Duberek opened his restaurant in 1959 to feed the immense local factory worker population. For over 100 years, that area of Connecticut was home to some of the largest silverware manufacturers and they had shifts around the clock. Ted’s used to stay open until 4 a.m., but started closing earlier as the factories moved their business overseas.
In 2007, suffering from back trouble, Paul Duberek decided to leave the business and sold Ted’s to his nephew Bill Cally. Bill was no stranger to the steamed cheeseburg and had worked at Ted’s on and off during high school and college. Not surprisingly Bill did not change much about the place and plans to own Ted’s for a very long time. He told me, “I count my lucky stars everyday.”
5
DELAWARE
CHARCOAL PIT
2600 CONCORD PK | N. WILMINGTON, DE 19803
302-478-2165
(2 OTHER LOCATIONS AROUND WILMINGTON)
WWW.CHARCOALPIT.NET
MON–THU 11 AM–MIDNIGHT
FRI & SAT 11 AM–1 AM | SUN 11 AM–MIDNIGHT
W hen Charcoal Pit opened in 1956, it was way out on the Concord Pike surrounded by fields and very few other businesses. “It was all farmland and nothing but a two-lane road,” manager of 42 years Frank Kucharski said, looking out the window of this time-warp diner. “Hard to imagine now.” Yes, it is. Concord Pike today is a densely packed commercial strip. It’s a wonder this burger gem is still standing.
From the outside, Charcoal Pit looks virtually unchanged since the 1950s. The restaurant’s boomerang-inspired marquee with its pudgy pink neon lettering is authentically retro. The interior has seen a few upgrades and design changes over the years and blends styles from the past five decades. If you’re lucky, you’ll be seated at a booth with a tabletop jukebox. These are not props. They actually work. Holly Moore, Philadelphia area food writer and a man who knows where to find the best greasy food anywhere, told me, “Think Richie, Potsie, and Ralph Malph in a corner booth and Al flipping burgers behind the counter. There’s something unmistakably genuine about eating at Charcoal Pit that needs to be experienced.”
The burgers are cooked over an open flame, as the restaurant’s name implies. The large gas grill, in full view of the dining room, is outfitted with a bed of lava rocks that help to evenly distribute the heat. Grillman of 19 years, Lupe spends hours
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