Feature article
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Texas Tavern: Home of the fried egg hamburger
By Fred Sauceman
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Hugging up against a more genteel structure in downtown Roanoke, the Texas Tavern only closes one day a year. (Fred Sauceman photo).
The Texas Tavern
LOCATION: 114 West Church Avenue, Roanoke, Virginia
PHONE: 540-342-4825 |
“You lift the pan up, crack an egg, get the meat going on the grill, yolk the egg up, fry it, give it a good ole flip, don’t let it hit the ground, put the egg, cheese, relish, pickle and onions on the hamburger, cut it in half, and give it to the customer.”
That’s manager Timmy Goff’s description of how a Cheesy Western is assembled at the Texas Tavern in Roanoke, Virginia. It may be the weirdest sandwich in the Roanoke Valley. It’s certainly one of the oldest. The fried egg hamburger with cabbage relish was invented by Isaac Newton “Nick” Bullington, who opened the Texas Tavern in 1930 on the same spot it occupies today in downtown Roanoke.
Not only has the place stayed put through the out-migration to the shopping malls of the 1960s and ’70s, but it has also remained in the able hands of the Bullington family since opening day. Nick’s great-grandson Matt, the current owner, has preserved the original stainless steel counter, worn slick and shiny by the elbows of millions of customers, from governors to bricklayers. Contrary to the alliterative name, there’s never been a Bullington-owned Texas Tavern in the Lone Star State, and the Roanoke restaurant has never served alcohol.
Among the odd combination of elements that come together to make a Cheesy Western, Timmy believes the difference maker is the homemade relish. Its base is cabbage, its seasoning mustard, its heritage the traveling circus of the early 20th century.
Nick Bullington was an advance man for Ringling Brothers. As he checked out logistics at cities and towns across America in preparation for the coming of clowns and elephants, he collected recipes. The relish recipe is one he pocketed.
“It was kind of a circus recipe because you didn’t have to refrigerate it,” says Matt. “And it was simple and easy to prepare.”
When Nick opened the Texas Tavern, in the middle of the Great Depression, he used the relish as a dressing for his “Western” hamburger. The cheese, Matt believes, came later, sometime in the 1940s.
In the 1920s, while Nick was in San Antonio, Texas, hyping the next Ringling Brothers show, he finished off a bowl of chile at the Palace Hotel. The never shy promoter ambled back to the kitchen and finagled the recipe from the cook.
The Depression killed Nick’s first Texas Tavern, one he had opened in Newcastle, Indiana, a year before the stock market crashed. Roanoke fared better during those hard times, largely because it was an active railroad center, so Nick relocated there.
Chile at the Texas Tavern has always been spelled with an “e” on the end. “Cheap chili is spelled with an ‘i,’” Matt jokes. He believes his great-grandfather insisted on the “e” because he owned a circus in Bolivia and Chile.
“This chile is not nearly as meaty as somebody in Texas would consider chili,” says Matt. “It has a higher bean content. I’ve been around the world and tasted a lot of different foods, and I’ve never tasted anything quite like it. It’s not super hot. Little kids eat it, and older folks.”
The Texas Tavern bills itself as “Roanoke’s Millionaire’s Club” that seats 1,000 people, ten at a time, no matter how much change is in their pockets.
“There’s a wide socioeconomic spectrum here, in close proximity, all having a conversation over a bowl of chile,” says Matt. “The First Lady of Virginia eats here. Her dad, Linwood Holton, former governor of Virginia, was a regular customer. Everyone comes into the Texas Tavern. Everyone from white collar to blue collar to no collar.”
When Nick Bullington’s health started to fail, his son James G. took over. Then later came James’s son Jim (James N.). And now Matt, a Roanoke College graduate who once contemplated becoming a lawyer.
The judges and attorneys of Roanoke are regular Tavern customers, and Matt says it’s not unusual to see a judge sitting next to someone he’s just sentenced. Matt has asked attorneys if they would do it all over again, knowing what they know about their profession. They tell him that no matter who wins or loses, somebody’s always mad at the end of the day. Matt says he’s glad he opted for a career selling chile and Cheesy Westerns, a business that creates happiness.
“I’m selling an experience that people like,” Matt tells me. “Working here, you know everyone in town. Working in a 24-hour-a-day restaurant (the Tavern only closes on Christmas day) has its demands, though, and you get your share of late-night phone calls. The fun begins at midnight.”
One time a lady came in when the counter was lined with customers. She demanded a hundred dollars. The cook ignored her. She said she had a weapon, but people kept eating chile and Cheesy Westerns.
“Then she pulls out a .38 and sticks it in the cook’s face, and he keeps cooking,” remembers Matt. “The guy sitting next to her keeps eating his chile. Everyone ignored her. A customer picking up a to-go order said after all this got over with, he’d have a Cheesy Western. The lady got mad and walked out.”
Once in the 1960s, the Roanoke fire department had to run customers out in order to fight a blaze in the back of the restaurant. In Matt’s mental scrapbook of memories is a mustard fight, caught on videotape, but for a restaurant that never closes, there’s very little trouble at the Tavern.
Customers tell stories of coming there before going off to World War II. Of being hidden in the back room to escape a school’s truant officer.
“Our busiest time is Christmas,” says Matt. “People who have moved out of the Roanoke Valley and who grew up eating at the Tavern come back and get their chile. This is not a job for me. It’s part of me. We’ve watched four generations of people eat here.”
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Food writer Fred Sauceman, author of the book “The Place Setting: Timeless Tastes of the Mountain South — from Bright Hope to Frog Level,” is senior writer and executive assistant to the president for public affairs at East Tennessee State University. E-mail him at sauceman@etsu.edu.
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