Folks in Chattanooga seem obsessed with declaring which restaurant serves not just the best hamburger in the city, but the entire state. Rarely does a day pass that I don’t drive by Merv’s on Mountain Creek Road and through the shadow of the sign promising “Tennessee’s Greatest Burger” inside.
Then there’s Chattanooga Burger Week, which Hoppy’s North River Corner Market has won two years running: first in 2025 with its Bacon Cheeseburger, then again this past April with its Swiss Onion Burger.
But does Hoppy’s really serve the best burger in Chattanooga?
Clearly, Chattanoogans love their grilled cow, but in a city full of people with different tastes, how do you decide which burger is actually the best? Maybe it’s more of a personal thing, I mused last week as I stepped through the door of the market, took in my surroundings and wondered what the heck I was supposed to do next to get one of its famous burgers into my hands.
I drove by Hoppy’s one day and became confused. How could that scrappy little market sell an award-winning burger?
You’re not alone in making that hasty assessment upon seeing the aged structure sitting literally on the corner of West Bell and Spears avenues in Chattanooga’s North Shore neighborhood. As my wife and I walked from the tiny gravel parking area behind the store and past its gray-painted brick exterior, she asked, “Is this even a place where you can get food?” thinking I was joking with her.
It is, I assured her – and now assure you.
But there’s quite a story within that unassuming storefront. The building has housed a neighborhood corner market and butcher shop since 1940, while Mark “Hoppy” Hopkins has been a fixture of Chattanooga’s bar and restaurant scene for decades. He previously ran the Stone Lion Tavern on High Street, Father Abraham’s and Hoppy’s Last Resort – all former downtown favorites.
In August 2020, Hopkins, a veteran, took over the then-80-year-old neighborhood market, bringing his own piece of Chattanooga history to the place.
Does Hoppy’s get prettier on the inside?
No – and God forbid it ever does.
Inside, Hoppy’s is a weathered throwback to the old corner markets that served as neighborhood lifelines, selling milk, eggs, dog food and toilet paper alongside food hot off the grill. There’s also a great craft beer selection, though I’d have to consult a history book to determine whether that was standard issue back in the day.
What becomes obvious the moment you step inside is the absolute lack of pretension. Hoppy’s isn’t some thoughtfully assembled homage to the classic corner market. The décor, if you can call it that, hasn’t been spit-shined and arranged to manufacture some nostalgic re-creation.
Rather, it reminds me of the kind of pumpkin patch Linus describes the Great Pumpkin as searching for in the animated “Peanuts” Halloween special: a place with nothing but sincerity as far as the eye can see. (Which isn’t far, as Hoppy’s is quite small.)
To the left is a Plexiglas-sheltered checkout counter stocked with lottery tickets and tobacco. To the right sit a couple of old tables for two that look as if they might have come from a yard sale, followed by a wall of refrigerated drinks. In the center are a few racks of snacks and staples, including one shelf that makes the ALDI Finds aisle seem carefully curated: a toothbrush and Scotch tape share space with a lone container of Folgers coffee and cans of Hormel chili.
And there’s a “take one, leave one” collection of movies on used DVDs.
Beyond all that are a few tall tables and, finally, the bar.
If you enjoy places that make no effort whatsoever to create an atmosphere or cultivate a vibe, yet somehow have both in spades, Hoppy’s is your kind of joint.
What do I do after stepping inside?
That was precisely my question as I looked around for some clue as to what to do next, such as a menu or a sign saying, “Order here.” I saw neither, so I turned to the checkout counter, where Hopkins was doing paperwork, and asked, “Are you cooking burgers today?”
It was a dumb question, but I’m not great at breaking the ice, so work with me here. Hopkins looked up long enough to give me an expression that conveyed a long, weary sigh without actually expelling any air.
“Tell me what you want,” he said.
After swiveling my head around for a few more seconds in a futile search for a menu, I ordered my favorite hamburger – a cheeseburger with lettuce, fresh onions and mustard ($9) – as well as a side of tater tots ($3).
Like I said, it’s more of a personal thing.
Hopkins then directed me to grab a drink from the far wall, explaining that he couldn’t check me out without scanning it.
“Aha!” I thought, filing this new information away in a special corner of my cerebral cortex for permanent reference. “So, grab my drink first, then order my burger without asking a dumb question.”
After I paid, Hopkins hazardously left me to my own devices. Fortunately, all I had to do was pick a table.
So, how was the burger?
Give me a second. First, I want to explain the brilliance of the tater tots.
They weren’t house-made tots. I doubt they were even the best tots Hopkins could buy. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised to peek into the kitchen and see the cook tearing open a bag of Ore-Ida.
But they were fried to crispy perfection, and they paired beautifully with the Heinz ketchup Hopkins placed on my table.
Now, to the burger.
It consisted of a sesame seed bun, all the toppings I’d requested and a quarter-pound of seasoned, grilled beef capped with a melty slab of American cheese.
As I picked it up, juices from the meat coated my fingers without me even squeezing the burger.
Hopkins doesn’t share what he does to his burgers before placing them on the grill, but whatever it is, it works. The beef was well-seasoned and cooked just how I like it, with just the right amount of mustard and onion and no skimping on the cheese.
Do I think it was the best burger in Chattanooga? I haven’t tried every burger the Scenic City has to offer, so I can’t make that call. But I’ll say this: Somehow, Hoppy’s nailed my flavor and made what’s now my favorite burger. (Sorry, Merv’s.)
What else is on the, uh, menu?
This is where I have to confess to being blinded by unfamiliarity. During my first visit, I missed the one-sheet menu that had apparently been lying on the counter in front of Hopkins. I spotted it during my second visit, when I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Hoppy’s offers more than a great burger.
It offers several burgers, in fact, including a Bacon Cheeseburger and Onion Swiss Burger. Under Specialty Burgers, I spotted the Mr. Harvey, which comes with (no drum roll necessary) tomato, onions, mayo and mustard.
Perhaps whoever crafted the “specialty” burgers was running low on creativity that day.
The rest of the menu gave me plenty of reasons to return. Breakfast includes homemade biscuits with a choice of eggs, sausage, bacon, chicken and more, while the lunch side of things extends to chicken sandwiches, chicken tenders and other offerings.
It’s not the beefiest menu in town (see what I did there?), but for a corner market, it hits all the right notes.
What else do I need to know?
I do have a few details to share as I wrap this up.
First, if you purchase a beer or soda with a crown cap, you can open it on the truly vintage (read: ancient) soda machine near the wall of drinks. I loved using that relic to pop the cap off my grapefruit-flavored Jarritos.
Second, while Hoppy’s is open for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day but Sunday, I recommend calling ahead at 423 266-5006, as the hours seem somewhat fluid and the grill shuts down during the morning and afternoon lulls.
Also, if the cook isn’t there, you’ll be out of luck. I hope she is because Hoppy’s burger could very well become your favorite in Chattanooga. Or Tennessee. Or even beyond!
Or not. Maybe you’ll like Merv’s better. After all, burgers are a personal thing.