Best Burgers: Readers Weigh In

COEUR D'ALENE, Idaho -- Behind Hudson's 17-seat counter, Steve Hudson is a study in economy of motion and culinary austerity. From a pile of freshly ground meat, he grabs exactly enough for a generous hamburger patty, about a quarter-pound I would guess, and forms it with gentle pressure into a half-inch disk.

For my lunch companions -- Drs. Ann and Don Gumprecht and Dr. Larry Garvin and his wife, Patricia -- and me, it's a beautiful thing to watch. Because the demand for his burgers is constant, Mr. Hudson can keep several going at a time on a gas grill older than he is and still have time to slice the kosher pickles and raw onion that are the only garnishes you can order at Hudson's, except for the slice of American cheese on the cheeseburger.
THE BEST BURGER

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Read about Raymond Sokolov's cross-country -- and artery-clogging -- journey to find burger perfection. Plus, what's best to put on a burger? Cast your vote and join a discussion.

Here in Kootenai County, everybody knows about Hudson's, which celebrates its centennial this month. But I didn't know enough to stop in this picturesque lakeside northern Idaho town during my recent hamburger odyssey. Then Dr. Tom Gumprecht, the son of Drs. Ann and Don, and six other readers clued me in. They were the most persuasive of hundreds of you who emailed to complain that I'd left out your own favorites.

Other readers debated the ideal condiments in an online forum at WSJ.com, with a huge vocal contingent coming out in defense of mustard -- French's, brown, spicy and everything in between -- and one lone voice even crying out for crushed corn flakes.

I had no dog in the condiment fight, but what to do about all those places I'd missed?

Just as I couldn't have eaten in every one of them, I couldn't answer all the helpful burgermaniacs without giving up my life. So I decided to pick the most irresistible sounding place from among those most frequently touted, and invite the recommending Pursuits readers to join me there for a burger.

And that is how I came to find myself, after one flight canceled in an icestorm and another eight hours aloft, followed by an hour's drive, in this gorgeous town in the panhandle of northern Idaho at a family restaurant named Hudson's.

But before I tell you about this remarkable and delicious coda to my hamburger odyssey and about the discerning folks who led me to this lakeside Shangri-La of chopped beef, let me take this opportunity to say how sorry I am I couldn't meet each and every one of you at your favorite hamburger hangouts.
[Burger photo]
The Platonic Ideal: Hudson's Huddyburger, with WSJ.com readers' choice: mustard

I am desolate not to have been able to hook up with J.W. and Ann Dunn at the Hull Bay Hideaway in St. Thomas, Virgin Islands, for a wood-fired burger with fried onions and a Presidente beer.

It kills me that I couldn't check out the D.C. Chinatown location of the East Coast chain Five Guys with Darryl Austin, an inside-the-Beltway booster who says the Five Guys burger is "a million times better than In-N-Out."

What wouldn't I give to take Dew Pfau of Lewistown, Mont., up on her tip to visit Ruby's, which serves burgers made only from Montana beef? The burger, she writes, comes with "excellent bacon, raw onion, tomato, guacamole, lettuce and some kind of sauce and seasoning on a good bun."

Worst of all, I couldn't return to Detroit, my hometown, to try out the place recommended by more readers than any other: Red Coat Tavern. I could also have pacified cousin Audrey, who was furious I hadn't taken her to her fave haunt, Beau Jack's.

But I could squeeze in one last foray. And, boy, am I glad I chose Hudson's in Coeur d'Alene from the 4-inch-high pile of emails. Burgers sold for a dime when the place was founded, in March 1907 by Harley Hudson in a tent on the town's main drag, Sherman Avenue. Today, Steve Hudson, a great-grandson, continues the tradition with his son, in full, intimate view of the hungry crowd.

Sherman Avenue has gentrified in response to a boom in tourism and second homes, some bought by Hollywood notables. There's a resort whose green lies within reach of accurate tee shots from the shore. But Hudson's has stood fast. The purity of its burgers is as notable as their charred exteriors and juicy interiors. "Our children came here all the time," says Dr. Ann.

Dr. Garvin is equally eloquent about the Huddyburger. Mrs. Garvin polished off a burger and a slice of homemade custard pie, and bought a centennial Huddy hoodie.

The Huddyburger is certainly the best $2 burger in creation. I liked the double burger, but the plain burger was even better. The Platonic ideal of burgerdom. It's the burger Dr. Ann orders, with pickles but no onion. She eschews the secret pink sauce and the ketchup, opting for hot mustard. I tried it that way and was converted, thus falling in line with most of the WSJ.com condiment-forum disputants. Beef, bun, mustard: It is a recipe for happiness.

By RAYMOND SOKOLOV
March 24, 2007


• Email me at eatingout@wsj.com