Nostalgia File: Groucho’s Broiled Burgers

Nostalgia is a funny thing. It can color even the most humdrum of places in tones of sweet fondness. I feel that I am especially susceptible to nostalgia and am always waxing rhapsodic about things from the past, be they cars, toys, advertisements, or food. The one eatery from my childhood that makes me more nostalgic than any other is Groucho’s Broiled Burgers, a fast food restaurant that existed in the 80s near the Fauntleroy Way exit off of the West Seattle Bridge. As a child I wasn’t allowed fast food very often but my parents would make the occasional exception for Groucho’s. This place was awesome. Everything here fascinated me. The glass enclosed entryway housed a cigarette vending machine, that relic from our more smoking tolerant past, and I would twist and pull at the knobs in the hopes that some prize would emerge. The Marx Brothers grinned down on me from giant black and white photos that lined the top of the wall by the counter. To this day whenever I see a photo of the Marx Brothers I crave a cheeseburger. The major draw for me at Groucho’s was not the rare and cherished taste of fast food but the Ms. Pac Man arcade machine kept in the corner. I was entranced by this thing. I would beg my parents for a quarter and then sidle on up to the seductive glow of technology. My hand-eye coordination wasn’t so good and I never came close to winning, but man, those 15 seconds of game play felt like the most exciting of my young life. I was riding high until one of those damn ghosts came along and picked me off.

My dad complained that Groucho’s gave him heartburn. My six-year-old brain took this literally and, horrified, imagined his heart afire in his chest. Looking back on his statement I realize that it may not speak too highly of the quality of the food, but as I remember it everything at Groucho’s tasted great. The burgers were held in shiny orange foil wrappers and the act of opening one was full of anticipation and excitement. It was almost as if Christmas had arrived and set up shop in a fast food restaurant. I had mixed feelings about the onion rings. I loved the breading but I had a hard time biting into the onion and would end up unintentionally pulling the entire piece out of its casing with my teeth. It looked so flaccid and slimy that I went from delight to disgust and ended up eating just the breading dipped in ketchup, leaving a little pile of limp onions on the side of the wrapper. This really pissed off my mom.

Groucho’s was an original. I’ve never seen another place like it, and this may just be the nostalgia talking, but I don’t think that I ever shall. To the owners, if you’re out there: I think it would be worth it to reopen Groucho’s for the kitsch factor alone. Just don’t forget Ms. Pac Man.