…it’s time to talk about zip’s. we like zip’s. we like how it smells — a little like 80-plus years of burgers, tapped kegs (except during prohibition, i guess), and decades of cigarette smoke embedded in the wood grain. we like how it looks — dark, with dark wood paneling and dim light rarely penetrated by conditions outdoors; at zip’s, it always feels like it’s time for a cold beer. we like how it’s set up, with the restaurant in front and the bar in back, through swinging doors. the set-up makes me think of old-time speakeasies, of passwords to enter the “back area,” of the separation of families eating and men drinking , of conversations political and profane that i shouldn’t hear but wished i could. as a young kid, for years i thought the restaurant was it — i had no idea there was a bar in back. i still remember the realization, sheepish but filled with wonder, that zip’s had a whole secret area in back! where kid’s can’t go!
growing up, my family would go to zip’s on special occasions. well, they seemed special, but looking back, i think they were more along the lines of: mom didn’t want to cook tonight, so we’re going to zip’s. hooray! i loved it for all the above reasons plus the train chugging around the perimeter of the ceiling. (the train, by the way, was a huge hit with our little one on a recent visit — it’s still got that magic.) but i didn’t know until i left cincinnati, saw the world, ate a bunch of hamburgers of wildly varying quality, and came back, that the real reason to love zip’s is the zipburger.
oh, man. locally butchered meat, fresh, seasoned perfectly, served on an unintrusive white bun with your choice of garnish, this is a truly great burger. so many restaurant burgers these days hide inferior beef behind bacon, or hot sauce, or guacamole, or some other culinary sleight of hand. with the zipburger, the burger is the star. so don’t over-ketchup it! it doesn’t need hiding, or over-embellishment, it just needs you to eat it. So do.
