Family burger joint is an institution

BOTHELL

When it comes to legacies, the Austin family can proudly point to their food: milkshakes so thick they turn the most powerful lips into a pucker; freshly cut crinkle fries; and fist-sized burgers that ooze greasy goodness.

It's not exactly a dieter's plate, but tasty fare that draws a stampede of customers who form lunch-hour lines out the door at The Ranch Drive-In.

A Bothell institution that's passed from father to son for three generations, The Ranch is an 11-table burger joint and ice-cream parlor strategically located on the busy corner of Highway 527 and Northeast 183rd Street.

"We've never advertised. Never had to," says Bob Austin, 64, who sold the family business to son Devin, 31, a little over two years ago.

When Bob's father, Willard Austin, bought the squat tan building in 1959, the Bothell-Everett Highway was a two-lane road surrounded by farmland. Horses used to poke their heads through the sliding service window out front, a decade before indoor seating was added, Austin recalled with a chuckle.

Rich Berkau of Redmond has been a Ranch patron for years. Though prices are a bit higher than at fast-food-chain restaurants, Berkau, 45, says the burgers and shakes are the best in town.

"It's a funky, little down-home kind of place," he said, pointing to the horses carved into wood panels that trim the windows and light fixtures. "There's no franchise, no kids' meals, and you can't order a No. 3 here. It's true Americana - it's just like being back in the '50s."

The restaurant was originally part of the Zesto chain, a once popular Seattle franchise. The Austins first renamed it The Freezer before changing it to The Ranch in the early 1960s.

Named for popular burger

Bob Austin suggested the name change after the family debuted its popular Ranch burger that's topped with homemade ranch dressing. Crinkle-cut fries have been on the menu for 40 years. Footlong hotdogs, chicken strips, onion rings and 18 milkshake flavors have been served up almost as long.

The Austins' business has grown with the city it serves. The Ranch grosses $1 million a year. Workers from downtown offices, nearby business parks and construction sites queue up for the lunch rush while families crowd in during the dinner hour. Youth soccer, baseball and basketball teams drop by for victory ice cream while high-school kids clog the parking lot after football games.

"I've been trying to figure out what it is about this place that people like," said Devin Austin, who takes three days off a year - Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. "My dad always stressed quality and taught me never to cut corners."

Along with his brother and sister, Devin began working at The Ranch when he was in junior-high school.

The Ranch was even the site of his first meeting with his future wife, Monica.

"We just kind of saw each other over the counter," Devin said with a grin. "She came back an hour later and ordered an ice-cream cone. She never ate a bite of it - we started talking and it just melted in her hand."

Wife handles the books

Monica Austin is now expecting the couple's fifth child, due in October. She does most of The Ranch's books and home-schools her sons, Anthony, 9, and twins Tanner and Dillon, 6. Their daughter, Moriah, is 3.

These days, Bob Austin periodically comes to the restaurant to meet old friends and sip coffee in a back booth. His wife, Cheryl, 54, still dons her white uniform and blue apron two or three days a week to help her son.

"No, I don't need to work," she says from her post behind one of four cash registers. "I like being here and I like the people.

"Besides, everyone is a little short-handed these days," she said, nodding to the `help wanted' sign in the window. "We're kind of busy here, especially heading into the summer."

When Cheryl Austin isn't at The Ranch, she's baby-sitting her grandchildren.

"Who knows," she says with a smile. "Maybe we'll have a fourth generation running this place."

Sara Jean Green's phone message number is 206-515-5654. Her e-mail address is sgreen@seattletimes.com