Maid-Wrong

A Takedown of the Loose Meat Sandwich

I assumed our server made a mistake when he set down a spoon along with our two sandwiches. After all, he seemed frazzled, apologizing that it had taken 20 minutes to get our “fast food” order out. Yet two bites into the Midwestern specialty known as a “loosemeat,” with beef crumbles cascading every which way onto the table and into my lap, I immediately understood the need for an assistive scoop. 

Sources debate who invented the sandwich—known variously as a “steamer,” “steamburger,” “loose hamburger sandwich” or “tavern sandwich”—but most agree it originated in Iowa and dates to the 1920s. Maid-Rite, where we stopped on the drive back from Kansas City, claims that its founder, an enterprising butcher from Muscatine, Iowa named Fred Angell created this regional offering. 

The story goes that Angell was working on an alternative to the hamburger when he landed on a special grind of meat with a proprietary spice blend. When he served the steamed pile of beef bits on a bun to a delivery man, he apparently responded, "Fred, this sandwich is made right.”

I couldn’t disagree more.

For a sandwich riding on the notion that it is “seasoned to perfection,” I’ve never sampled something so bland. The meat had no discernible beefiness and I could barely detect any bite from the cooked onions flecked throughout the gray heap. No amount of sliced pickles, yellow mustard, ketchup and raw onions could rescue the sandwich from its dominant flavor profile: beige. 

The texture was remarkably off-putting. Imagine a burger without the crispness of a griddled exterior, a Sloppy Joe without the luxurious coating of sauce or a bowl of Hamburger Helper without the Helper. You're left with a mouthful of desiccated meat gravel. It seems like something the lunch lady would serve if she were in a wicked mood.

Perhaps I’m biased because I’m from Chicago, a city that cherishes sopping wet Italian beef and hot dogs “dragged through the garden.” But even the people who champion Maid-Rite online (mostly folks who grew up on loose meat sandwiches) share recipes with flavor and texture enhancers such as beef broth, soy sauce, Worcestershire, Coca-Cola, French onion soup, mustard and beer. None of these devotees want to admit their favorite childhood treat is blander than white rice and dry as hell.

Furthermore, none of these loose meat lovers dare mention how challenging it is to consume this so-called “sandwich.” Each time I attempted to hoist the limp package towards my mouth, beef rockets exploded out of the squishy bun like confetti out of a cannon, resulting in an unholy mess. I gave up on the spoon—the pieces that poured out the edges cooled quickly and turned rubbery—but I was longing for a bib. (At least neighboring Nebraskans have the decency to seal their bland beef treat known as the Runza in a fully-enclosed pastry pocket.)

As if eating this monstrosity upright at a booth weren’t dehumanizing enough, I’m absolutely tickled by the notion that Angell pioneered drive-in service at his second restaurant. I can only imagine the disaster that would unfold if I tried to consume this in our car: meat nibbles lining every hard-to-reach carpeted crevice for eternity. 

I’d been curious about Maid-Rite since reading Jane and Michael Stern’s Roadfood as a food-obsessed kid. They made a point of highlighting a chain among a bookful of mom-and-pop joints because of a “very unglamorous but addictive” sandwich. Perhaps if I had been to the Newton location they referenced, I would have seen the light (my research suggests not all Maid-Rite franchises are created equally). But after my visit to the Lamoni branch, I am joining the internet trolls who spew vitriol for the loose meat sandwich, aka the “lazy hamburger,” aka the “downmarket Manwich.”  

I am an avowed lover of regional foodstuffs, particularly of the Midwestern variety, but I just cannot get behind the loose meat sandwich.

Photos by Jared Wheeler

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