SF’s best smash burger is made by a former college baseball star

In an era where fast-casual dining is king and prices are on the rise, the thick bistro burger is a mere memory. People want fast, cheap burgers that they can take on the go, or eat hastily. At San Francisco’s Sunset Mercantile farmers market, on 37th Avenue between Ortega and Quintara streets, a former college baseball star is smashing down the real-deal version of the crispy, Americana-inspired burgers.

Maillards, owned and operated by Max Ponzurick, is a smash burger pop-up that stays true to its roots but adds some California sensibilities. After the patties are flattened by an 8.5-inch burger press so that they’re almost one with the griddle and then topped with Kraft American cheese, they’re served up on Martin’s potato buns with housemade pickles, a proprietary burger sauce and sweated shallots, which is different from the normally used white or yellow onion but makes all the difference, according to Ponzurick.

“For me, [a great smash burger] needs to have that deep brown color, that crust that says, ‘OK, these guys are doing it right,’” Ponzurick said in an interview with SFGATE. “It’s all about the Maillard reaction, which is why I named my business Maillards.”

The Maillard reaction is the technical term for the chemical reaction that happens to food when heat affects the amino acids and sugars of the ingredient. From toast to steaks, it’s basically the reason a cooked food is delicious. Funnily enough, before Ponzurick named his business after the browning effect discovered by French chemist Louis Camille Maillard, he thought the word was pronounced “mallard,” like the duck. When he was told of his mistake, he instantly knew his logo would henceforth be a mallard eating a Maillard-reaction smash burger.

It’s not too surprising that Ponzurick wouldn’t know how to pronounce a word used in chef circles. Until 2016, cooking wasn’t even on his radar. Growing up in Greensburg, Pennsylvania, his life was all about baseball. A major recruit coming out of the Keystone State, Ponzurick committed to playing college baseball at Virginia Tech. He was well on his way to getting drafted and turning pro, but after his sophomore season, he realized he didn’t actually love baseball enough to make it a career.

“I knew I didn’t love it, and I made, in my mind, the mature decision to go after something else because I didn’t want to get caught up in [baseball] for X amount of years,” Ponzurick said.

While at Virginia Tech, he often cooked for his teammates and friends, and he found a passion for it. After quitting baseball, he eventually followed his brother to San Francisco to open Heritage Restaurant & Bar. Cameron Lewark, chef and owner of the Richmond business, hails from the Wolfgang Puck culinary tree, and his restaurant aims to bring some Pacific Rim influence to California cuisine. During his time working for his brother and making his way up the French brigade system to sous-chef, Ponzurick would take trips up and down the West Coast to test out different smash burgers. He knew that if he were ever to start his own business, it would entail Nashville hot chicken, Detroit-style pizza or smash burgers, which turned out to be the easiest to execute as a pop-up.

His burger travels took him up and down the coast, from Seattle all the way down to Los Angeles, where he tasted “hundreds” of smash burgers. The standout burger to Ponzurick, while slightly different in style from his, was at Heavy Handed in Santa Monica.

“Their flavor profile to me was one of the best. The acidity from their sauce cut through the richness and the fat of the burger,” Ponzurick explained. “From the first time I had it, there was something that I knew I wanted to take away and try and put into my burger. There’s a lot of burgers that are very rich. It’s just too much. That’s why I like the acidity.”

After a brief stint in Boston, where Ponzurick said he was really able to perfect his smash burger recipe, he knew he had to come back to San Francisco, where diners would better appreciate the technique, the ingredients and the flavor profile he was concocting.

“I take the time to scrub and scrape the griddle after each burger is made because you need a dry surface to get the meat to stick to the griddle for that perfect Maillard reaction,” Ponzurick said. “It’s the grease or oil that most people cook a burger with that shrinks the meat and doesn’t provide that crust. My burgers cook with just the fat from the meat.”

The balance of flavors is what really sets Maillards apart from the rest. The uber-thin patty is “suffocated” by the griddle press to create the ultimate amount of salty crunchiness. The American cheese deals out a creaminess that reminds you of your childhood, and the hand-sliced, grilled shallots help to mellow it out. The housemade pickles are super zesty, and the Maillard sauce, a ketchup-mayo-based sauce with two secret ingredients, brings out the acidity in each bite. Lastly, the Martin’s potato bun offers a sweet, buttery flavor profile to round out the Maillards experience. Add a side of beef tallow french fries and a housemade lemonade (sometimes strawberry), and a meal from Maillards is like the best summer vacation/road trip burger you could ever imagine — even if you’re eating it in the foggy confines of western San Francisco.

While Ponzurick only opened Maillards on July 2 (which he called a “total dart throw”), he’s grateful for the support he’s seen so far. He had no expectations that “things were going to be the way they are.” After blurbs in the Infatuation and San Francisco Chronicle (The Chronicle and SFGATE are both owned by Hearst but have separate newsrooms), and now a profile in SFGATE, he’s well on his way to his next steps, which someday might be a brick-and-mortar. If you can’t make it out to the Outer Sunset on a Sunday, there’s a strong likelihood that Maillards will be popping up at Heritage on Tuesdays in the “near future.”

For now, Ponzurick is just enjoying the ride and perfecting his craft.

“I’ve built up a good base in the last 12 to 13 weeks,” Ponzurick said. “But I’m really telling myself to go just one step at a time.”