As the dust settled at the end of Chattanooga Burger Week in 2024, a hamburger packed with Crab Rangoon filling, wonton strips and sweet chili sauce emerged as the people’s choice for the best hamburger in the city.
It seemed like a definitive statement: The classic burger is a relic, and the future belongs to gourmet chefs and nouveau foodies who value invention above convention.
The contest barely registered at Merv’s on Mountain Creek Road, which continued the day-in and day-out business of serving “Tennessee’s Best Hamburger.” Or so declare a pair of signs mounted outside the nondescript red building that houses the popular joint.
Inside, Merv’s emits the vibe of a true dive. Customers stroll across a concrete floor and past wall-to-wall beer signs to reach tables and chairs that are serviceable, if not cushy, and then order from a one-page laminated menu that also contains ads for Realtors, dermatologists and auto repair shops.
The kitchen is visible behind a small bar that bears the scars of much use, and pool tables and dart boards take over where the dining area stops. The only thing that confirms patrons didn’t step back in time when they crossed the threshold is the digital jukebox, which sticks out like a neon-lit anachronism among the functioning remains of a ‘70s restaurant.
The bold slogan of this unassuming establishment begs a question: What ingredients are included in Tennessee’s best hamburger? Caviar? Jalapeno jam? Truffles?
Nope. Instead of catering to the whims of fashion, Merv’s keeps things simple. As noted on the menu, “Merv’s way” is a patty of 81/19 ground beef cooked to order and topped with a slice of cheddar cheese, a pile of fresh lettuce, thick slices of tomato and onion and a mess of pickles, mustard and mayo.
If a customer wants to add bacon to this old school flavor fest, they can ask for it. But if they want Crab Rangoon filling, well, they’re out of luck, says Laiken Williams, 24, who runs Merv’s with her twin sister, Alexis Williams.
“Restaurants are making burgers too fancy. My Grandpa showed our Momma how to make a burger, and our momma showed us how to make a burger, and they both said if your burger works, it doesn’t need an avocado on it. It’s fine the way it is.”
It’s hard to argue with history, which could be the secret ingredient in Merv’s burgers. Laiken and Alexis’ grandfather, Barrett “Bear” Morris, purchased Merv’s from another proprietor in 1977; their mother took over operations when she turned 29. Laiken says the burgers have remained untouched since Day One.
“We make our food the same way our grandpa made his,” Laiken says. “We use only the best quality hamburger meat and we roll it ourselves. You could slap a fried egg on there, and it would probably taste good, but that’s not what we do. We make the kind of burgers you cook at home.”
The sisters are especially proud of using only fresh meat, says Laiken.
“Our vendor was out of fresh meat once and tried to sell us frozen,” she recalls, pronouncing the word “frozen” like it contains four letters instead of six. “We said we’d have to buy our meat somewhere else. That’s never going to happen here.”
If being a stickler for tradition is bad for business, someone forgot to tell Merv’s customers, who begin filtering in soon after the establishment opens at 11 a.m. The restaurant’s patrons then keep the dining area and bar buzzing well into the evening. Outside, the parking lot – which contains several spaces and spare room along the edges – fills early and stays that way.
The menu at Merv’s might fit on one page, but it’s a long page. From starters like hand-battered fried pickles and macaroni cheese bites, to the beastly Super Salad (which consists of a mound of lettuce, diced tomatoes and onions, pickles, shredded cheese and chunks of grilled hamburger, fried bologna and crispy bacon), to the melts and wraps, Merv’s offers a decent amount of variety.
They also make a “killer basket of homemade chips,” says one customer.
But the burgers are the establishment’s top seller, Laiken says. “We roll about 80 pounds of hamburger a day. That’s a lot of meat when you do it by hand.”
Nose to the grindstone
Laiken and Alexis are no strangers to hard work. Their introduction to the rigors of running a restaurant came during the untold hours they spent watching their mother carry Merv’s on her shoulders as they were growing up. The place was their after-school destination, their playroom weekends and summers, and their home away from home.
The twins spent a good chunk of their time growing up with Merv’s clientele, which served as their second family. Photos of them as children are stapled to a picture gallery near the pool tables that also includes mug shots of smiling diners. To this day, customers bring them Christmas presents and celebrate their birthdays.
“We’ve been here since we were able to run around,” says Alexis. “This place was our entire childhood. Customers who watched us grow up remember seeing us sleeping on the pool table during lunch.”
History was repeating itself when they were little, Laiken notes. Her and Alexis’ mother, Stacy Morris, had also grown up in Merv’s and started working for her father when she was 13. So she began to prepare her daughters at a young age to appreciate the value of a dollar and the toil that goes into earning one.
“Mom would take us to the store at the beginning of the school year and buy us two pairs of pants apiece,” remembers Laiken. “And if those ripped or we put holes in the knees, then we had to work to replace them.”
“Mom instilled in us that you have to work for what you need,” adds Alexis. “I appreciate that now.”
Although Laiken and Alexis are identical twins, telling them apart is easy: Both women sport tattoos that cover their arms, neck and abdomen, as well as a light red coiffure, but Laiken is the one with pierced cheeks. When she smiles, they create dimples that shave a few years off her still youthful face.
Despite being only 24, Laiken and Alexis have fit a lot of life into their years. Their mother put them to work when they were 14, first in the kitchen (where they earned $6 an hour) and later waiting tables (where they relied on someone else to serve alcohol until they were 18).
“I thought $6 an hour was insane,” Alexis says. “Now I’m like, ‘Mom was robbing us.’”
Then came the day when the twins say their mother was suddenly no longer able to work. One evening, she was celebrating her birthday, and the next, things had changed, Laiken and Alexis say.
They reveal more, but their mother did not corroborate their story, so the details must remain within the walls at Merv’s. Suffice to say the bump in Laiken and Alexis’ responsibilities was only the beginning of their true education in operating a restaurant.
More than flipping burgers
When Laiken and Alexis assumed ownership of Merv’s, they knew how grill a burger and make a customer smile, but beyond that, they were ill-prepared to run a business, they say. Regardless, they were immediately responsible for calculating sales tax, paying property taxes and acquiring permits, among other necessary and confounding tasks.
“Our lives changed overnight,” Laiken says. “There’s a world of difference between waiting tables and running a restaurant. Anyone can wait tables. It’s not hard. But we had a crash course on how to own a business.”
Adding to the twins’ woes, the building that houses Merv’s began to show its age. While the restaurant had taken several shots on the chin over the years – a car crashing through the front of the building, severe flooding, the cooler quitting and the like – nothing had threatened to add as hefty a number to the loss column as repairing the leaky roof.
“$75,000,” Alexis huffs, as though she’s hearing the sum for the first time. “What were we going to do? Sell a kidney each? Just because you own a business doesn’t mean you’re raking in wheelbarrows full of cash.”
Working under the weight of an impossible repair was “beyond stressful,” both women agree. Laiken recalls being all smiles and cheery hellos as she welcomed customers and waited tables, and then escaping to the cooler to let off steam.
“No matter what you’re going through, you can’t take it out on your customers,” she says. “One day, a lady was mad because we hadn’t cooked her fries to her liking, and a man was angry because he thought his meal cost too much, and I had swallow my stress and say, ‘I’m so sorry. Let me help you.’ And then I shut myself in the cooler and screamed.”
As Laiken and Alexis floundered for a solution, they received an unsolicited and unfathomable kindness that kept their business open for another season.
Through the years, Merv’s has served as more than a local watering hole or feeding trough; it’s also been a place of refuge. The twins’ mother fed people who didn’t have the money to pay for a hamburger. Later, Laiken and Alexis continued her legacy of compassion by hiring people for odd jobs when they needed cash.
So when Merv’s faced a potentially business-shuttering expense, a friend said to Laiken, “You and your sister work hard and help people. We’ll fix your roof.”
The friend was Mark Morgan of H&M Roofing, a member of the Free Burgers for Life Club at Merv’s, the sisters joke.
Now Marv’s faces a new challenge: A balloon payment on the mortgage for the building, which the twins say their mother still owns, is due in September. Will this be boulder that crushes Merv’s and denies local residents “Tennessee’s Best Burger?”
“No,” Laiken and Alexis say in unison.
“This building means more to me than any cheeseburger we’ll ever throw out,” Laiken adds. “Our customers are like family. I’m not kidding. I don’t have the time or money for therapy, so I need these people.”
Laiken says she needs her sister, too, and they both say they love each other, despite having a capacity for infuriating one another.
“We want to kill each other every day,” Alexis laughs. “Our customers have seen us on the verge of strangling each other.”
“It’s a twin thing,” Laiken shrugs.
“It’s weird seeing yourself in another body,” Alexis adds. “I’ll think, “Why are you acting that way? You’re me, so stop being dumb.’”
Sibling friction aside, the sisters say they have each others back.
“No one else can be mean to Alexis,” Laiken says. “I can be mean to her, but if someone else is mean to her, hell’s walls are coming down.”
It’s a touching sentiment. And it answers a question many curious patrons have asked the women. But it doesn’t solve all of the mysteries that surround Merv’s.
For example, how is the restaurant able to claim to serve “Tennessee’s Greatest Hamburger?” Alexis says Merv’s won the moniker several times but that the specifics are lost to time.
Fair enough. And why is the restaurant called Merv’s if their grandfather is named Barrett and their mother is named Stacy?
“We don’t know,” Alexis offers. “Maybe grandpa kept the name of the previous owner. It was open for eight years before he bought it.”
While this nugget of Merv’s lore also remains buried in time, one thing will continue into the foreseeable future: Laiken and Alexis will carry on tradition by keeping things simple. It’s their super power, Laiken says, and it’s what customers want.
“This building might get wonky sometimes, and the paint might not reach all the way behind the TV, but you’re going to get good food and good service here. That’s what our mom taught us to do and that’s what we live for.”