This Illinois Roadside Grill Tastes Straight Out Of 1966
If you’ve ever daydreamed about pulling off a two-lane highway in the 1960s for a burger made right in front of you, Krekel’s Custard in Decatur is the closest thing you’ll get without a time machine.
The place hums with its own rhythm: patties smashed thin on a hot grill, onions hitting the heat with that unmistakable sizzle, shakes mixed the moment you ask for one. Nothing feels staged, it’s just a tiny counter turning out food with decades of muscle memory behind it.
I showed up curious and left wondering why more places don’t cook with this kind of heart. Here are 15 ways to make the most of that signature 1966 flavor.
Neon Krekel’s Sign At Dusk
Arrive just as daylight fades and the neon hums to life, because that’s when Krekel’s tells its story best. The glowing sign throws a nostalgic halo over parked cars and picnic tables, turning the lot into a postcard from 1966.
Photograph the sign with a low angle to capture sky gradients and that cool, buzzing glow. Then step closer and listen; you’ll hear the flat top hiss, the mixer whir, and tickets being called. It’s not just ambiance—it’s a promise.
At this hour, burgers taste warmer, shakes feel colder, and the air carries a sweet blend of onions and gasoline. That glow sets your palate to retro mode.
Flat Top Press On A Sizzling Patty
Watch the cook smash a fresh patty on the hot steel, because that hiss is flavor being welded to meat. The press creates lacy edges and a browned crust, amplifying beefy depth while keeping the center tender.
Ask for extra grilled onions to meld into the fond left on the flat top. The rhythm, press, scrape, flip, is culinary percussion. Stand close enough to catch the aroma, but not so close you miss the quick show.
That caramelization is the signature that sets Krekel’s apart from thicker, slower burgers. It’s a two-minute masterclass in heat management, pressure, and timing—exactly how roadside grills did it before timers and gadgets.
Double With Grilled Onions And Pickles
Order the double and say yes to grilled onions and pickles; it’s the house symphony in three parts. The onions add sweet smoke, the pickles snap back with briny brightness, and the patties bridge the two with a savory, caramelized bassline.
Keep condiments simple, maybe mustard, to let the balance sing. Each bite lands with crunch, sizzle, and tang, seasoned by just enough salt.
The soft bun stays out of the way, a stage rather than a star. Hold the burger over its paper boat and let a bit of juice fall; that’s proof of life. Vintage flavor doesn’t need tricks, only heat, patience, and well-placed acidity.
Buttered Bun Toasting On The Grill
Ask for your bun toasted on the grill, because butter plus steel equals an invisible shield against sogginess. The toasted face gets nutty and crisp, catching juices without collapsing. Watch the cook sweep it across the seasoned surface, every pass gathers micro-flavor.
A well-toasted bun turns a good burger into a tidy, portable legend. It also unlocks texture contrast: crackle outside, pillowy inside.
If you prefer extra toast, say so; they’ll know exactly what you mean. This simple step keeps your last bite as balanced as your first. In a world of overbuilt buns, this is restraint, and it tastes like 1966 confidence.
Paper Boat Of Crinkle Cut Fries
Crinkle cuts belong here; their ridges trap salt and hold onto ketchup or malt vinegar like tiny terraces. Order a paper boat so steam can escape and the edges stay sharp.
Ask for fries to drop just as your burger hits the grill; synchronized timing keeps everything hot. A shake of salt at the window brings them to life. If you’re sharing, get a second boat, you’ll underestimate their pull.
Crinkles are a humble throwback that deliver consistent crunch and nostalgia with every dunk. They’re the soundtrack’s snare drum: simple, reliable, and always on beat with the burger’s bass.
Chocolate Malt In A Frosty Cup
Order the chocolate malt, not just a shake, and taste how malt powder bends sweetness into toasted, toffee warmth. The cup comes frosty, the straw wide, and the texture thick enough to challenge your first pull.
It’s spun to order, so you get that aerated creaminess without icy shards. Pair sips between burger bites to reset your palate with cocoa and grain. If you prefer less sweetness, ask for an extra malt shot.
This is dessert and beverage at once, a creamy metronome keeping time with every salty, savory note. Old-school perfection lies in the balance between bitter cocoa and mellow malt.
Order Window With Ticket Numbers
Line up at the order window, memorize your ticket number, and embrace the choreography. Numbers ring out over the sizzle while a breeze carries the scent of grilled onions. Keep your order tight and specific: double with grilled onions, crinkles, chocolate malt.
Then step aside, watch the action, and be ready when you’re called. The window is a time capsule, where analog systems still move faster than apps.
You’ll see regulars nod knowingly, stepping forward right on cue. It’s part patience, part performance, and completely worth it when your tray lands. Here, anticipation seasons the food.
Ketchup And Mustard Pumps By The Napkins
Skip the packets; hit the stainless pumps for ketchup and mustard that flow smooth and bright. The pumps are fast, generous, and delightfully old-fashioned, delivering perfect lines across fries or bun. Grab extra napkins, this is a juicy operation, and stage your tray for efficient bites.
A thin mustard stripe adds zing without drowning the beef, while ketchup’s sweetness cuddles the crinkles. There’s ritual in that quick pump-pump motion.
It’s the condiment equivalent of vinyl crackle before the track drops. Keep it simple, keep it clean, and let the pumps do the talking like they did decades ago.
Vintage Photos On The Wall
Step inside to scan the vintage photos, and you’ll see the lineage in black-and-white proof. Smiling crews, classic cars, and old menus trace a straight line from then to now.
These images aren’t decoration; they’re a pledge that the process hasn’t drifted. Let them frame your order in context, thin patties, grilled onions, malted shakes, because tradition guides technique.
Snap a picture for your own timeline, but linger to read the faces. They’re handing you a method as much as a meal. It’s easy to taste the past when it’s looking right back at you.
Extra Onions Request On The Board
Notice the board: extra onions are a standing option, and it’s not a dare, it’s wisdom. The grill turns those slices translucent and sweet, threading them through every bite. Ask for extra if you’re chasing that old-school edge; onions were the original amplifier.
They cut through fat, add aroma, and make the second patty feel lighter. If you’re onion-shy, start with a half portion. Pair with mustard for a classic, snappy duet.
The board is your cheat sheet to flavor parity, written in grease pencil and proven by time.
Cherry Custard Swirl In A Cone
Save room for a cherry custard swirl, the rosy counterpart to chocolate malt. The custard’s dense, eggy richness holds fruit flavor without iciness, and the cone keeps things playful.
Ask for a tight swirl to minimize drips on warm nights. Tart cherry pops against the buttery base, cleansing the palate after salty fries. It’s the color of tail lights in the lot, a sweet wink to the neon.
If you’re sharing, get a second cone; first cones vanish mysteriously. Classic stands survive on details like this: simple, seasonal, and unforgettable.
Grill Cook Flipping A Stack
Respect the grill cook: the guardian of pace, crust, and consistency. Watch the wrist flick, thin patties flip fast, with no lost edges. A stack sizzles like a short chorus, and each flip lands right on tempo.
This is choreography learned over countless lunch rushes. If the line is long, trust the process; speed doesn’t trade away flavor here.
The cook reads heat by sound and smell more than timers. It’s craftsmanship on a griddle stage, and your burger is the encore.