Burger of the month: This smash burger in Tustin is a masterpiece

In most instances I prefer a big, fat, juicy hamburger patty, at least a third pound but preferably more. I detest thin hamburger patties, especially the prepackaged and frozen type.

But I’ve also known for a long time that a thin burger can also be delicious, especially when that patty starts as a ball of fresh meat and gets smashed into oblivion on the griddle as it cooks. Smash burgers like this are suddenly popping up everywhere. But they’re not new.

The six-patty Smashburger XXL from Vaka Burger inside the Mess Hall food court in Tustin (Photo by Brad A. Johnson)

Finally, a proper cheese enchilada
Retro rules the day at this new burger house
Japanese milk bread makes a killer hamburger bun
Game changer: These fried quesadillas are a revelation
8 must-try tortas in Orange County

I first fell in love with smash burgers decades ago at a Johnny Rockets outpost in the Yucatán. It was the first time I’d seen a ball of fresh ground meat get violently smashed onto the griddle as if it were some form of stress-relieving anger-management therapy for chefs. I found it fascinating. I wanted to do it, but they wouldn’t hire me.

Something strange happens to a hamburger patty when it’s squished onto a hot griddle with the force of a steamroller and allowed to sputter and caramelize in its own fat until the meat turns dark, almost black, becoming lacy around the edges like a savory, salty meat-flavored tuile. If I had to do my sixth-grade science project all over again, I think I’d make one of these burgers. There’s definitely a lot of science happening with this technique.

I’ve eaten a half-dozen trendy smash burgers lately, looking for one that really stands out. I found it at Vaka Burger in Tustin, where it was just recently added to the menu. I ordered the XXL, which comes with six obliterated patties, which amounts to a full pound of grass-fed beef. (They also make a smaller version with only two layers of meat.) All the patties are fused together with melted cheddar cheese, also lacy around the edges. Add to that a handful of thickly sliced pickles, a squirt of ketchup and a generous glob of Russian dressing (I think they just changed the name to Vaka sauce) on a toasted brioche bun, and you’ve got a genuine masterpiece.

I would have been equally happy with the smaller version. A full pound veers into carnival-food territory. Nevertheless, I ate the whole thing and had zero regrets.