Motz’s Burgers

This city has a piece of stubbornness that sneaks into the hearts of residents, a sourness that taints ideas about progress, and a hugely cynical view of the future. It also fills them with pride of where they’ve been, what they’ve done, and the things that have somehow managed to stay untainted by the changing climate of Detroit. Like many other Detroit stories, Motz’s story is long, has a quick rise and a long fall, but carries a steadfast attitude that kept it going. Long-time Detroiters will gladly share their stories about childhood memories of eating sliders by the bag with their parents, through good times and bad- much like our children will.

Motz’s burgers used to be a slider dynasty in Detroit, but is now a lone location that hangs on with a hell of a legacy and a lot of success. Motz’s stands in the middle of Delray firmly and proudly, in a mostly-abandoned area we cannot picture in full operation, its weathered sign indicating its past and future presence. It resides in what used to be a white castle, opened in 1929, which was then sold and bought by Mott’s, of applesauce fame. When the business was sold decades later, the new owner kept the name, but changed the spelling. Why mess with something good?

“Are you sure it’s over there?”

This stretch of road overlooking I-75 is nearly a wasteland. You may find yourself passing innumerable shells of industry and reminders of the waning of the rust belt. Luckily, Motz’s sits next to two other open businesses, a coney island and the Detroit Produce Terminal, and emerges from the street as a beacon of hope in this run-down area. Motz’s even has a private lot that can help those who aren’t familiar with blight to relax while snagging lunch (or an early dinner – they close at 6 pm most days).

If you drive a bit further south from the restaurant on Fort, you will smell poop from the wastewater plant that permeates the existence of all the residents living here in the shadow of I-75. Yes, it’s a little gross. Motz is out of reach of this stench, and instead emits the much more pleasant odor of the ancient and beautifully seasoned grill.

Despite the neighborhood’s appearance, the place was noticeably clean upon arrival. The flash of shiny metal from the stools and counter blinded us, and the strange amount of sunlight entering the big windows gave the restaurant an ethereal quality. I winced to focus my eyes on something non-reflective, something to tether me back to Earth. If I were a French existentialist, I may have killed someone in the confusion.

Luckily, I came to my senses shortly after to survey the scene. A few groups sat at the counter facing the grill, where two ladies bustled about to make hand-written orders. The menu is in different fonts on different boards – the normal sized burgers in a reducing slant, the malts advertised on a handwritten sign, the sliders and sides on a movable letter board . You can see the incremental changes that the decades has brought to this isolated little place. Red and yellow squeeze bottles dotted the landscape of countertops. Checkered floors from the diners of our dreams greeted us and guided us to the right side of the counter, where the cashier waited patiently for our selection.

“What are we doing here?”

The three staff members working were wearing clean black shirts with the Motz’s logo. They didn’t seem tired or angry, as one might expect in a busy and grease-soaked diner. They looked happy to serve us, and acted accordingly. The others ordered quickly, and Frank got a corndog for some reason. When I asked the cashier for three cheeseburgers, no ketchup, a chocolate malt, and onion rings, he asked me:

“Are you on a slider crawl?”

“well, no. But we eat a lot of burgers.”

His question implied that slider crawls are a thing. The idea of even one measly slider at each of Detroit’s slider places is a little horrifying to me. I imagine them floating in the nether-regions of my stomach, pounding on the walls and wailing like a group of lost souls newly dropped into hell. I consider myself a courageous eater, but there are some lines that we are not meant to cross.

The Sliders at Motz’s come standard with mustard, ketchup, onion, and pickles. They are a little bit bigger than Telway’s and fill you up accordingly. In traditional slider fashion, the onions are cooked alongside the patties, and then directly under the patties until the burger is combined with buns that have been steamed under towels laid across the griddle.

The patties are cooked all the way through to form a kind of lifeless shade of brown/gray that you might find in a fast food burger, although a bit more attractive. I was worried they didn’t have the grill on high enough- neither the patties nor the onions had any char to them. The strings of onion were brown and starting to caramelize. Only Carl ordered a normal sized burger, the bacon burger, as the rest of us couldn’t resist the sliders. The burger looked great, especially next to the turdly-looking slider sitting next to it. After devouring it, he described the patty to be the same as the sliders, cooked through but without any char. It sounded gross to me, but he enjoyed it well enough.

My patties were lifeless, not salted, and barely beefy — All the things that I am against when it comes to any kind of burger. The yellow mustard provided no contrast to any of the other flavors, so adding more was confusing. I felt like a child wandering into a conversation that I couldn’t understand. It didn’t make anything stand out or fade away. One thing that stood out to me was the pickles, which tasted extra fresh – they stood in stark contrast to what I found was a truly unremarkable burger.

My experience with the other sides was better than average. The onion rings were great, and came to me golden brown and still hot with a thick batter. The onion didn’t slide out when you bit into them (one of many telltale signs of a good onion ring). My chocolate malt was delicious, but super thick; it took some work to get it through the straw. I needed whatever workout I could get, so I happily kept working at it. A perfect milkshake consistency is worth achieving- but even having one on the menu with the other classic American fare was impressive to me.

“What do we do now?”

I didn’t have the same feelings about the sliders as the others with me. Carl thought his slider was the best that he had had, and marks across the board were good for the whole group. Only a couple of us had lower scores, including Jeff, who thought the patty was overcooked and was generally unimpressed with his experience.

Many things about Motz’s were very good, but the centerpiece of the restaurant is supposed to be sliders, which didn’t do it for me. It still rated very highly on our rankings so far- that might change after we travel to Bates, Hunter House, Sonny’s, Bray’s and the rest. I won’t be attempting any gastronomical endurance records anytime soon, so expect sporadic slider updates. And in case you were wondering how many sliders I could eat in a day? Probably about three. I ordered them at Motz’s.