The Classic Thornton Park rocks 'cook like a bartender' philosophy

Dec 09, 2023

People are always walking into bars at the beginning of jokes. In this one, the bartender walks into a kitchen.

“Cook like a bartender” is a prevalent hashtag for the team behind The Classic Thornton Park. It’s an overall philosophy that plays itself out in different ways, but none so on-the-nose as the Bloody Mary steak sandwich ($17.50), which chef/co-owner Brian Minkel created years back, post-shift, when he marinated some skirt steak in V8 for homespun fajitas.

Years later, when he and partner Daniel Menezes took over this nook most recently occupied by Mason Jar Provisions, it would morph into a hefty handheld jammed with tenderloin tips seasoned in the spicy, salty, savory flavors of this perennial hair of the dog. The tomato juice caramelizes on the flattop, lending a little sweetness. The horseradish mayo, more the former than the latter, counters all that with a zingy punch amped by the lengthening properties of the lettuce and tomato.

It’s a session sandwich, I suppose, which is good because my pals and I are crushing it, among others of Minkel’s invention, at a table inside Burton’s Bar. It doesn’t get more neighborhood than this.

Minkel cooks like a bartender because he’s been one, and also a bar manager, for almost 30 years. In fact, he still works the Saturday day shift at Burton’s. A Wisconsin native, he’s been in Orlando since 2001, behind the bar everywhere from Sam Snead’s to Park Plaza Gardens, Luma to Johnny’s Filling Station. The Lodge. The Woods. Others. Always on the B side of F&B.

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“Bartenders made more money,” he says. “If it was all the same, I’d have been cooking this whole time.”

Inspired in part by “Three’s Company’s” Jack Tripper (for his craft, not his roommates) and in part by a single mom who taught him to make spaghetti as soon as he was tall enough to see over the stove, Minkel enjoyed the creativity and customer-facing interaction of bartending, but still, he longed for chefdom.

With just about a year under their belts at The Classic, he and Menezes work alternating shifts. Not only does it afford nights off, Minkel keeps a toe in the publican pool, where he can both shamelessly promote his adjoining restaurant and also enjoy the unmercifully frank feedback of folks who’ve had a few.

“It’s especially rewarding when somebody doesn’t know who you are and they say, ‘Damn, that burger’s good!'”

I had it on an evening visit and felt similarly, but what was it that offered such texture? Was it the seared edges of the patties? Some hidden topping amid the tack of the melted American and the snap of the pickles? No, I realized. It was simplicity. It was perfection. It was a flawlessly toasted bun.

Minkel laughs.

“When we were first testing things out. I knew I wanted to use a potato roll. They’re pillowy and I always loved them. And when I’d give people the burger, they’d be like, ‘This is a great burger! You toast the bun!’ They didn’t say anything about the actual burger.”

I will. Available in single ($12.50) or double ($15.50), the shave on the onion and tomato offers a universal burger experience. Affording a bit of each in every bite. It’s deliberate, Minkel tells me, and a nice contrast to the persistent Dagwood-style burger trend, where a mound of on-sandwich rings often has the whole slippery onion sliding out on the first bite.

I’ll talk about the Bratty Melt, too ($16.50), a decadent Reuben-patty melt hybrid featuring a housemade bratwurst patty smothered in sauerkraut and melted Muenster on crisp-griddled rye that’s not for lightweights — in particular alongside the fries (all sandwiches come therewith). Even my kraut-shunning companion loved it.

“I don’t think I’d have tried it if I knew,” he said, happily glomming the third bite of his 1/3. Let this be a lesson to you all out there. One you should have learned when you were five years old. But it’s never too late to try new things. Or understand the what’s-in-a-name principle.

“I wanted to put an egg salad sandwich on the menu because I love egg salad,” Minkel tells me. “But people were like, ‘I dunno, Man. Egg salad is weird.’ But every one of them said they loved deviled eggs.”

And so the Deviled Egg Smash ($13.50) came to be. Showcasing smashed eggs, lettuce, tomato and onion that come together on flattop-grilled country white with the piquant and garlicky addition of salami. Its creamy-salty-savory that again rides the balance line with its lighter, more invigorating elements — crunchy, crusty, cool.

“What’s the verdict on favorites?” I asked my companions. We tallied one vote for each, but only after a long debate.

“It’s really a photo finish,” one said. Good summary.

It’s rewarding, says Minkel, to see his creations get traction. And in that cook-like-a-bartender spirit, he enjoys the open kitchen that makes cooking a little more like bartending.

“Bartenders don’t get a back-of-house,” he says. “There’s no hiding.”

He likes it that way. So much so that he wanders out occasionally to visit with customers. We saw him on one of our visits. I didn’t know Minkel’s philosophy just yet, but I was unknowingly onboard, hovering over the briny, sliced cucumber side like a sip-at-a-time pickleback salad. Might I suggest a name change?

Minkel, who’s nearing 50, says he and his partner see eye to eye.

“We have the same service mentality, but he’s younger. He has a family. He’s got a lot of creativity and a great work ethic. Hopefully, when it’s time for me to be done, he’ll still have a ways to go and we can do this for a while.

“Burton’s has been here for so long. Why can’t we do it, too?”

The Classic Thornton Park: (805 E. Washington St. in Orlando, 407-730-5646; theclassicthorntonpark.com)

Find me on Facebook, TikTok, Twitter or Instagram @amydroo or on the OSFoodie Instagram account @orlando.foodie. Email: [email protected], For more foodie fun, join the Let’s Eat, Orlando Facebook group.

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