The tradition that started before any of us were born
My grandparents began frequenting Tommy’s Burgers when they were dating.
In the ‘50s, it served as their local 24/7 spot where even at 3 a.m. you would find a hundred people in line. The crowd itself was part of the experience, people of all colors and walks of life unified by their desire for a late night chili burger.
Seventy years later, my family still has a relationship with Tommy’s burgers, each generation associating it with different memories. For my mother and her siblings, it’s the place their father took them on special occasions.
Tommy’s exists throughout Southern California with a single location in
Las Vegas. Unfortunately, my family spans well beyond those areas.
Deprived of a convenient Tommy’s location, they created a ritual, a compulsion, of eating at Tommy’s whenever the family is in town and together like salmon returning upstream.
I never met the great Larry Huggins, so for me it’s the place my family would go the night before any out-of-town relatives left.
A crowd of Huggins, perhaps a few Jernigans, incoming Thompsons, and three Morenos: me, my brother, and my sister.
A place for my cousins, uncles, and aunts to reminisce over countless “remember-whens” that I was getting to hear for the first time.
It’s a running joke that you can’t join the family unless you enjoy the burgers, or at least join in the experience of going there.
In lieu of a father-daughter dance, my mother’s wedding had Tommy’s Burgers (in addition to regular wedding food).
Their presence served as both a sweet tribute to my grandfather, and a proactive counterintelligence measure preventing out-of-town relatives from leaving the wedding early to go get some.
I remain in awe of the various occasions that have earned a Tommy’s, from midnight runs to funerals to breakfast cravings.
Some purists refuse to eat at any Tommy’s other than the original location on Beverly and Rampart and others like myself are less picky. Attempts to take (frozen) Tommy’s back to Northern California by car or airplane have mixed results, but the true magic of Tommy’s is not about the food; it is about the experience.
Especially since this is a family with diverse food preferences: vegan, vegetarian, allergies, etc. Dietary restrictions are well understood, and bringing your own bowl of quinoa to eat at Tommy’s more or less counts as participation.
The restaurant itself is equally accommodating: if you bring your own gluten free bread, they’ll throw it on the grill for you alongside the regular buns.
I love my family.
I love our traditions and our peculiarities. I love those who are larger than life, and those whose introversion begets a sharp wit. I love the vastness of our life experiences, and the way in which we will put all of that aside to be there for one another. As a child, I recognized that I was part of something special.
