DAVID NELSON ON RESTAURANTS : Johnny Rockets Launches Tasty Trip Back to the ‘50s

Can a dribble of hot hamburger grease thaw a frozen stream of memories?

You bet. A party of four recently took simultaneous bites of the big, greasy, glorious burgers griddle-fried at La Jolla’s new Johnny Rockets, snatched paper napkins from a dispenser to wipe their chins, sighed and exclaimed--in perfect unison, no less--”It tastes like high school!”

Two members of the group attended high school in Bakersfield in the 1950s; the third and fourth were both ‘60s grads from the Midwest. But, despite the differences in ages and regions, each member felt that taking a bite of these burgers was like reading a stack of yearbooks and recalling all the live action that went into those photos.

For a hamburger to be endowed with such mnemonic power is impressive. But there it was, the meat crusted to hold in all those juices, the topping an evocative mix of lettuce, tomato, mustard, pickles, mayonnaise, pickle relish and chopped onion. Almost every drive-in and burger joint in America served a product just like this until the tidal wave of franchised fast-food joints swept real drive-ins and burger joints from the landscape.

Johnny Rockets is itself a franchise operation, though a small one; besides several other outlets in California, there are Johnny Rockets in Chicago, Atlanta and Tokyo. Locally, the La Jolla location is joined by a place in Del Mar, with plans for a third in Pacific Beach.

If Johnny Rockets is staging a burger revival, it is doing so in the largely palatable guise of a 1950s malt shop. The La Jolla Rockets, tucked away at the rear of Wall Street Plaza, announces itself with a low rumble of rock ‘n’ roll and a massive neon sign that bears not only the restaurant’s name but also the legend “The Original Hamburger.”

Johnny Rockets’ burger is not the original, in truth, but it at least tastes like the ‘50s incarnation. (Theories abound as to where this rather obvious sandwich began, with some credence given to the claims of Louis’ Lunch, a counter not far from the Yale campus in New Haven.)

Johnny Rockets’ setting is ideal. Although the thirty-something-and-up crowd probably will prefer the umbrella-shaded tables in the court in front of Johnny Rockets, the restaurant’s interior is a faithful and not too kitschy re-creation of a period malt shop, or a study in white tile, linoleum and aluminum. None of the cheesy smarminess of the would-be ‘50s-style diners around town has rubbed off on this place. There are but two booths (one is labeled the “double-date booth”). The rest of the seating is at the counter, which not only offers a full view of the action progressing on the sheet-metal grill, but is studded with nickel-snatching music selectors tied into the restaurant’s jukebox.

To a large degree, it is the jukebox that makes the courtyard seating so attractive because the tables are farther from the speakers. But, although the volume is sometimes too high, the tunes are on target: Customers play a lot of Sam Cooke and also lean toward “Peggy Sue,” “The Rambler,” “Mack the Knife” and even, in weak moments, “You Ain’t Nothin’ but a Hound Dog.” Just don’t look for anything from the 1960s on the jukebox menu.

“You get into a gray area with the ‘60s,” said proprietor Charlie Yao, who makes all the musical decisions here. “The ‘60s aren’t really rock ‘n’ roll.”

The menu, served through the day, is simplicity itself. It recites merely a few hamburger variations: chili; french fries (for an extra $1.30 you can have the fries drowned in chili, if you wish); malts, shakes, floats and flavored Cokes, and a sextet of sandwiches. This last category ranges from an extraordinarily prosaic Swiss cheese with lettuce to a rather more enticing grilled cheese, to tuna salad, egg salad, grilled chicken breast (how unforgivingly 1990s it seems in this setting!) and a rather lovely bacon, lettuce and tomato. That’s it, except for the apple and cherry pies, which are catered by an outside supplier.

The burger mentioned above, which arrives wrapped in supposedly grease-proof paper (don’t bet on it) for easier eating, is dubbed “The Original.” The 12 (the menu makes no mention of 1 through 11) embellishes this with a slice of Tillamook Cheddar cheese and a drizzle of the restaurant’s trademarked “red red sauce,” a spicy seasoner. Other variations can be achieved by adding an extra patty, or grilled onions, or a fried egg (this garnish is in fact quite popular in France), or chili, or, most deliciously, slices of just-fried bacon.

Everything is cooked to order. The french fries are just french fries, but they are good and hot--and capable of producing stifled howls of mirth when the waiter, as if he were a sardonic sommelier, seriocomically pours a little ketchup on each diner’s paper plate. The BLT, served on whole wheat toast, is delicious for the simple fact of its freshness; the toast and bacon are hot and crisp, the lettuce and tomato cold and crisp. This is, in its way, an elegant juxtaposition.

French fries usually arrive in advance of the burgers and sandwiches, as if they were some sort of appetizer. Malts and shakes, on the other hand, can be drunk with the meal or treated as dessert. They certainly fill the latter role quite well because the ratio of ice cream to milk is such that these only can be consumed efficiently with a spoon. Depending upon one’s age, these are or are not large enough to share.

JOHNNY ROCKETS

7863 Girard Ave., La Jolla

456-4001

Open daily

No credit cards accepted

A meal for two, including beverage, tax and tip, about $10 to $18