Everybody knew that Skeggs Meisterkook was the world’s greatest culinary genius; just like everybody knew he was born cooking. At least the story is passed ’round that Skeggs’ mom was unwilling to go to the hospital when her time came, so she gave birth standing at the kitchen stove. Naturally, people disagree on the exact time and manner of his birth, but that Skeggs was born with a ladle in his hand is undisputed.
By the time Skeggs was 5, he had already provided a 7 course banquet for the entire town of Fressenville. That was no mean feat for any cook since the townsfolk had peculiarly finicky eating habits. He won their hearts, or should I say stomachs? The Fressenville event got his name in the papers, and he was invited to participate in cook-a-thons nationwide. He took every prize in the land, all the way up to the Nationals. He won that contest when he was only 12, delighting the judges with his Mint Julep, which became an annual Kentucky Derby treat.
By the time he was a well rounded 30, he was invited to an international cook off. The grand judge was French. He decided he would impress the woman with the world’s biggest soufflé. It wasn’t to be an ordinary soufflé at all. No, not only would it be the biggest, it would be delicately filled with a paté of the finest American Angus beef from Texas.
Skeggs, who had already accrued enormous funds from his earlier winnings, ordered the building of an oven of appropriate size to accommodate his gargantuan soufflé. His Fressenville friends helped gather all necessary ingredients for the event. Jake went to the salt mill for the 100 lbs of salt that Skeggs would need. Mabel went to the dairy farms to get 1,000 lbs butter and 500 gallons of milk. Harry went off with his bread truck to pick up flour, and Mel the butcher started to chop and grind the ton of sirloin Skeggs had asked for. The big job of getting a million eggs fell to Sarah, who went from egg farm to egg farm rounding up whatever eggs were available. To her horror, each egg farmer could only give her a handful of eggs. The excuse was always the same, "The chickens are on strike. They won't lay eggs."
Sarah tried everything to get enough eggs. She sent the pony express to the big chicken farms near Des Moines. She wired to the farms in Europe. She even sent a message to New York City to get eggs off incoming trains from the California. The soufflé wouldn't puff if there weren't enough eggs for Skeggs. But always, the answer was the same, "The chickens are on strike; here are a few eggs from the strike breakers," but she knew they wouldn't be enough.
When Sarah brought the news back to Skeggs, who was already starting to mix dough for the soufflé, beads of sweat began to drip from his forehead. What was he to do? The crowds milling around the giant oven watched his every move. The oven was hot as a furnace. The meat was ground and waiting in its giant bowl, attracting the local flies. Then Skeggs got an idea. He whispered into Sarah’s ear and she raced off to the local brewery to search for one more ingredient.
Meanwhile, Skeggs sent a message to the bakers of Fressenville, "Send me all the flat trays you can spare!" The trays arrived within the hour. So did Sara, a huge package of brewer’s yeast in her arms. Skeggs took the package and unwrapped it carefully. He dropped its contents into the half mixed dough and added the 500 eggs Sarah had managed to collect. Forming the mixture into little balls he put them on the trays and slid them into the giant oven.
The crowds became increasingly curious about Skeggs’ actions, but no one dared to ask the Meisterkook what he was doing. Perhaps he had a new way of making a soufflé. Or maybe he would pile the little round things into a giant pyramid on top of it. Yeast would certainly help a soufflé puff up. Skeggs paid no attention to them. He shaped the meat into curious flat circles and laid them on the giant grill that an earlier contestant had left smoldering. The aroma of the grilling Angus sirloin got folks’ noses twitching and their stomachs growling. They were eager to try the new dish.
When the first tray came out of the oven, Skeggs took a grilled patty, and placed it on one of the round rolls. He added tomato, lettuce, and ketchup (which every good cook keeps handy for garnish) and presented it to the grand judge. “Zeez duzent look like a soufflé,” the judge whispered checking Skeggs' entry form.
“Taste it,” said the Meisterkook, a hopeful grin on his face.
The judge took her first bite, chewed a bit, and then took another, and another. Skeggs crossed his arms in apparent satisfaction sure that he had won the day. “C’est Magnifique!" said the judge. "But what eez it?” she asked in her breathy falsetto voice. The great Julia would have to make her public announcement of this new grand prize winner.
“Why it’s” . . . Skeggs scratched his head thinking hard. His Hamburg, Germany roots came to mind and he blurted, “It’s Hamburger, of course!”
And that’s how the first all American hamburger was born at that great international cook-off in 1861 . . .and if you don’t believe me, go South, and visit Bayou’s cemetery where Skeggs’ gravestone sports the inscription, “Here lies Skeggs of Fressenville; his hamburgers, we eat them still.”
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