Herby's Burgers is the kind of neighborhood joint that feels like it's been waiting for Oak Cliff all along. Launched in 2024 by local Dallas mainstay Will Rhoten -- better known to most as DJ Sober -- it's a love letter to two forms of American obsession: smash burgers and great records. The concept is simple on paper and dialed-in in practice. You come for a burger and something salty and crisp on the side; you stay longer than planned because the room hums like a good mixtape, the griddle perfume hangs in the air, and the jukebox keeps pulling you into one more song.
The O.G. Smash is the anchor. It's a classic, built on the logic that thin patties are better when they're pressed hard and fast, so the edges lace and crisp while the center stays juicy. American cheese melts into the crevices; pickle chips and a tangle of onions deliver snap and sweetness; a secret sauce ties it together with tang and a little richness. Nothing about it tries to be clever. It's nostalgic on purpose, the kind of burger that tastes like your memory of a great diner burger -- but sharper, hotter, and more dialed in. Ask for a single if you want the bun-to-beef balance; go double if you're here for the full smash effect and that glorious cheese-puddle in the paper wrapper.
Fries and tots play full-on supporting roles rather than afterthoughts. The fries are the proper kind to drag through sauce: hot, salted, and structured enough to survive a detour through the bottom of the bag. Tots deliver that crackly shell and soft interior that only tots can, great on their own and even better under a shake of house seasoning. Dipping runs the gamut -- ketchup, mustard, the signature sauce, maybe a punchy jalapeño ranch on certain days -- so you can treat sides like a choose-your-own-adventure.
There's a sleeper on the board, too: the grilled cheese. It's not just a kid's menu consolation prize. This one is built like a diner icon, griddled bread with a golden gloss and a pull of melted cheese that's almost theatrical. Order it straight or hack it with add-ons -- grilled onions, pickles, maybe a swipe of that secret sauce -- and it becomes its own craveable thing. It also makes Herby's more inclusive for friends who aren't chasing beef that day but still want in on the pleasure of a hot sandwich pulled right off the flat-top.
The room looks and feels like the food tastes: familiar, warm, and just a little bit swaggering. The design leans into clean lines and honest materials, the kind of space where neon glows right and stainless sings. There's a jukebox at the heart of it, stocked and sequenced with the same care you'd expect from a DJ who's made dance floors move for years. It's not background music so much as a frame; a well-timed soul cut or a golden-era hip-hop track makes that first bite taste even better. The whole effect is immersive without being precious -- Herby's understands that the best restaurants are also great rooms to be in.
Service follows suit: quick, friendly, and unpretentious. You order, you watch the choreography of the flat-top, and you get your tray hot. The flow suits Oak Cliff's rhythm -- families rolling in after a game, couples pre- or post-Bishop Arts stroll, late shifters chasing a proper burger after hours. There's an energy to the line on busy nights, that feeling of shared anticipation when a new round of burgers hits the pass and the air fills with steam and sizzle.
Because Rhoten is who he is, the cultural crossfade feels natural. Herby's doubles as a small community hub -- some days it's a meet-up spot before a show, other days it's where you wind down after one. You sense the possibility for one-off collaborations, seasonal menu riffs, or guest-curated jukebox sets, and when those things pop, they feel organic rather than gimmicky. The brand is taste-forward, in every sense of the word.
What makes Herby's stand out in a city crowded with smash patties is restraint and confidence. The menu doesn't sprawl; it focuses on getting the fundamentals perfect. The burger has no unnecessary props. The sides are honest. The atmosphere is curated but not fussy. It all adds up to a place that respects the classics without embalming them. You walk out smelling faintly of griddle and salt, already planning the next time. In Oak Cliff, that's how a new spot becomes a neighborhood standard -- one perfectly smashed cheeseburger at a time.