Basic Burgers Beautiful To Behold At Hudson’S

When I asked a burger-loving buddy if he wanted to join me for lunch at Hudson’s Hamburgers, he said: “Oooooh yeah,” with his tongue hanging out.

This humble spot on Coeur d’Alene’s main drag has been serving up legendary burgers since 1907, owned for nearly a century by the same family. That’s Todd Hudson, the great-grandson of the original owner manning the grill and deftly slicing thick pickles and white onions. Those are the only garnishes to grace these straightforward sandwiches. No lettuce, no tomato. Definitely no bacon.

Hudson’s menu hasn’t changed much in its long existence. At a time when the bill of fare at many places read like a book, the list of offerings is shockingly short.

There’s your single burger, your double burger. (You can order those with cheese, of course.) There’s a fried egg sandwich, a ham sandwich and a fried egg and ham sandwich.

No chips, no fries, no shakes but you can get a glass of buttermilk. This spot is old-fashioned with a vengence.

And the row of stools in this storefront operation are nearly always full. This time of year, it’s a mix of regulars and tourists. Visitors might have read about the place in USA Today, or, most recently, in the September issue of Gourmet magazine.

My pal placed his usual order - two single cheeseburgers, but “don’t bring them together,” he told the low-key kid who waited on us. “I want the second one after I finish with my first one.” Spoken like a seasoned vet.

I got mine with pickles and onions. The secret sauces sits in squeeze bottles on the counter: a semi-spicy ketchup-like concoction and a hot mustard. There’s plain old ketchup, too.

So, here’s what keeps the fannies parked at the counter at Hudson’s: these babies truly taste like a home-cooked hamburger. The hand-formed patties are the focus of this hand-held meal, not all the fixings heaped on top.

A big stainless steel pan of ground beef sits near the grill and Hudson forms patties before cooking them.

This is by no means fast food, yet we had ordered and eaten in less than a half an hour.

During that short time, I got all warm and fuzzy noticing all the families which had come in. This scene was better than a long-distance phone commercial.

A grandfather pointed out the old photos on the wall to his young grandson and instructed the boy to watch as Hudson expertly sliced the big, juicy dills. Memories are made of this.

An older couple left, saying, “we’ll be back soon.”

But those snippets of conversation were only short breaks in the silence that settles over the room as customers happily munch on their burgers. There’s no background music, no other sounds besides the meat sizzling. It feels like there’s a hushed reverence for this high temple of burger-dom.

Ah, that really hit the spot, my friend sighed after easily polishing off his second sandwich.

Our tab: $5.99 for three burgers.

We skipped the Cyrus O’Leary’s pie Hudson’s keeps sliced in its refrigerator case and walked down the street to Wilson’s Variety, where they have an old-time soda fountain.

Summer is the perfect time for a big helping of nostalgia, topped with whipped cream and cherry.

I’m not sure why soda fountains were an integral part of drug stores. Maybe sipping a shake was a good way to pass the time while waiting for your prescription to be filled. I’m only sorry that the tradition has all but vanished.

Except at the rare spot like Wilson’s. (There’s also a soda fountain at Paul’s Lincoln County Pharmacy in Davenport, where I had a killer root beer float in a frosty glass last spring.)

Wilson’s is cool on several levels.

First, there’s the mint 1953 Seeburg jukebox. A quarter will get you five picks from the golden oldies. Elvis is still king here. And Buddy Holly.

Then, there’s a display case of vintage soda fountain paraphernalia. Yes, those long, flat glass dishes perfectly cradled a banana split.

That elaborate treat is still served at Wilson’s, but after that belt-busting trip to Hudson’s, I stuck with a small sundae. It’s just $1.29.

And the person behind the counter cheerfully filled a request for my version of a black and white - a scoop of chocolate ice cream swimming in marshmallow topping. She put some of the marshmallow goo on the bottom, too. A nice touch.

My cohort slurped a fine huckleberry milkshake, made the only way shakes should be made - with hard ice cream blended thick and cold.

Wilson’s also does floats, malts and dishes up all sorts of ice cream flavors. Or, order up a chocolate or cherry Coke. Take a date and ask for two straws.

Wilson’s Variety is located at 401 Sherman Ave.

This sidebar appeared with the story: HUDSON’S HAMBURGERS **

Signature dishes Big, juicy burgers, what else? These patties are formed right before they’re slapped onto the sizzling grill. It’s about as simple and straightforward as a hamburger gets.

Ordering tip: Don’t be shy about getting a couple. After all, there’s no fries or chips on the side to fill you up. The regulars wait until they’re finished with the first to put in the request for No. 2. That way, they’re hot off the grill.

The tab… Our lunch - three single cheeseburgers - came to $5.99. If you indulge in a piece of Cyrus O’Leary’s pie, that will cost you $1.50. They don’t take plastic, so bring cash or your checkbook.

Serving… Burgers, burgers and more burgers between 9:30 a.m. and 6 p.m. every day but Sunday.