The Unexpected Staple We're Putting on and (IN!) Our Burgers

Now and then, you find yourself looking down at a burger cooking in a pan, sizzling in a pool of rendered fat, and thinking, “You know what this needs? A big pat of butter.” Right? Or maybe you’re not from Wisconsin.

I’m not from Wisconsin myself, so before I set out to make butter burgers, I called my friend Josh Modell in Milwaukee for advice. “Butter burgers are really good, but, I’ll admit, they’re also kind of gross,” says Modell, a writer and editor who ran The Onion’s editorial operations in Chicago before moving back to his home state of Wisconsin in 2021. “Like, a burger is already fatty and delicious and wonderful. You look at the pool of butter at the bottom of the plate and think, ‘Should I really be doing this to myself?’”

Then again, Modell pointed out, many of us are okay with butter-soaked beef in a different context—when we go out for steaks. (Daniel Gritzer had the same realization.) “I’ll go to the Five O’Clock,” a Milwaukee institution since 1946, “and I know that the ‘juices’ at the bottom of my plate are mostly butter,” Modell says. “I’ll sop them up without thinking about it… But there’s something different about that. It feels like more of an event.”

Why Your Burger Really Does Need Butter

Wisconsin butter burgers range from event-worthy to everyday. Culver’s, a Sauk City, Wisconsin–based fast food chain that’s taking Upper Midwestern culture nationwide, serves a signature “ButterBurger” distinguished by a “lightly” buttered bun. Pfft. The butter burger that gets food writers excited and keeps cardiologists up at night is the house specialty at Solly’s in Milwaukee, where a four-ounce sirloin patty comes topped with stewed onions and a generous layer (a tablespoon or two) of soft, spreadable Badger State gold. “The butter is a whole extra ingredient,” Modell says. That’s the burger I wanted to make.

When I learned that the butter burger at Solly's is made with all sirloin beef rather than chuck or a combo, the concept started to make more sense to me. There is a logic to it. Sirloin is ultra tender and ultra lean. By itself, it makes bland, dry burgers, but in blends, it’s a gentle complement to fattier, more flavorful, and tougher cuts of beef. Instead of combining sirloin with the likes of oxtail and brisket, as in Kenji’s Blue Label Burger Blend, the cooks at Solly’s are dousing the lean cut with a supplementary fat that’s abundant in Wisconsin, for a burger that’s remarkably tender and remarkably juicy. And because sirloin doesn’t have a strong flavor of its own, the sweet taste of butter comes through.

Make Your Own Butter Burger Blend

While many butter burgers are simply topped with butter, I had a hunch that the burger could be even better if I incorporated butter into the burger, infusing fat and flavor into every bite. Just as the most delicious food is seasoned in layers, not just at the end, I thought the best butter burger might be one that starts with butter, lubricating that lean sirloin from the moment it hits the pan.

So, I decided to grind my own beef. I used a stand mixer with a grinding attachment. You can use a standalone meat grinder or a food processor. What matters most is keeping everything refrigerator-cold until you’re ready to cook, so the fat disperses evenly throughout the ground beef and you don’t end up with a melty, slippery mess. Grind the meat with butter in batches, so it doesn’t overheat, and handle it as little as possible. The direct fat infusion takes extra work, but the result is a rich, tender burger patty. Some people describe wagyu fat as “buttery.” Using actual butter in the grind gave me something approximating that experience for a fraction of the cost.

Still, I missed the partially melted butter topping that’s a hallmark of the Solly’s experience, so I ended up splitting the stick, grinding half into the patties and reserving half for topping the burgers and cooking the “stewed” onions, another Solly’s tradition.

Add the Savory Compound Butter to Well, Everything

Even with butter throughout, the burger was still missing something, I felt. There’s nothing wrong with a simple burger, but, remember, I wanted this one to feel extra-special. After a few more buttery bites, it came to me. 

See, there’s another butter burger I love—more accurately, a margarine burger. And it isn’t from Wisconsin. It comes from Lindey’s Landing West Bayburgers, a trailer outside Lindey’s Prime Steak House in Seeley Lake, Montana, where I used to stop for lunch on my days off from a guest ranch about 20 minutes away. It’s topped with the restaurant’s locally famous “finger-lickin’ sauce.” The recipe for the sauce is a house secret, safe even from small-town gossip (believe me, I’ve tried), but the owners admit that the base is Blue Bonnet margarine, and it’s rumored that another key ingredient is soy sauce. There’s more to it, I know, but those two flavors conjure up the Bayburger pretty well from here in Kansas City.

This isn’t a margarine burger, but I paid tribute to Lindey’s with a simple soy butter used throughout this recipe—in the grind, to cook the onions, and on top of each burger. A spritz of lemon juice on the onions completes the soy, butter, and lemon flavor trifecta (salt, fat, acid, umami…) for a predictably delicious result. This is not the butter burger you’d get at Solly’s or Culver’s. With the extra effort and flavor, it’s a butter burger that feels like an event. 

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