Cheeseburgers in paradise: a commentary on cost of living in Northern Michigan

By Tim Mulherin

Sun contributor

Many (many) moons ago, a close friend invited me to visit the Grand Traverse region for the first time. While showing me some of the myriad fantastic scenic areas during my long-weekend trip, he made a cynical remark that stuck with me: “Welcome to the playground of the rich.”

We did drive by quite a few splendorous waterfront homes lining the shores of Old Mission Peninsula, where he lived (modestly) near Bowers Harbor, and on M-22 as it tracks along West Grand Traverse Bay. Back in the mid-1980s, and for some years thereafter, there were far fewer people visiting the region and scarfing up seasonal properties. A modest cabin on an inland lake with 100 feet of frontage was still within reach of families with middle-class incomes. The cost of living was high, which goes with tourist destination territory, but it wasn’t outrageous. To me, it seemed like a playground for most everyone.

Fast-forward to the present day and an epiphany sparked by, of all things, a cheeseburger.

In June, my wife and I stopped by a long-established eatery in a Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore gateway town for a late lunch. We ordered sizzling, fat-dripping, deliciously unhealthy cheeseburgers accompanied by that local delicacy, tater tots. We passed on the offer to indulge in a libation, though a cold beer on tap would have hit the spot. Instead, I suffered through a Diet Pepsi; Janet enjoyed a ginger ale.

Our burgers arrived in minutes, grilled to legendary perfection. From a presentation standpoint, our loaded and beautifully garnished plates qualified for a Midwest Living magazine photo op. We happily emptied them, too.

Meal finished and hunger satisfied, the damages came to $53.16. With tip, we paid $63.79.

As I loudly siphoned the remaining soda in my glass and ruminated over the startling check, an unsettling thought occurred to me, which I shared: “I wonder who this lunch is really for?”

Janet responded, “Obviously, it’s for people who can afford it.”

And then my friend’s comment from so long ago resurfaced as a haunting revelation: The Grand Traverse region has truly morphed into the playland of the affluent.

Across the country, the cost of living continues to skyrocket. Inflation stubbornly keeps rising, tariffs are escalating the cost of many goods, and the war in Iran is jacking up fuel prices. The price of housing in the region – and Leelanau County in particular, which shot up during the pandemic – remains painfully elevated. This, including income-challenging rental rates, combined with the housing shortage, has made life difficult for those in the middle and lower socioeconomic classes. All the things that everyone needs to live a decent life are moving beyond the reach of an increasing number of people.

That $63.79 hamburger lunch figuratively stuck in my craw. (Even that trusty Heineken maneuver wouldn’t release it.)

On the surface, there’s nothing inherently wrong with charging customers the going rate of what the market will bear. And Up North these days, especially during the summer tourist season – and now in the ever-expanding fall and spring shoulder seasons – that means not just high prices but often stratospherically high prices.

Those of means don’t flinch. Those who struggle, struggle even more.

Regarding the accompanying sticker shock of that pair of cheeseburgers, who’s to blame? Individually, it wasn’t the cook or waitress or sacrificial cow or food processor or shipper or cattle rancher’s fault. Pointing at the establishment’s owners wouldn’t be entirely fair, either, as they can surely justify the cost of doing business in bringing those burgers to our table in these fraught economic times. So, what’s the problem?

Perhaps the answer lies in identifying when profit goes from reasonable to exploitative all along the chain of bringing a good to market. Behaviorally speaking, greed is a major economic influence. Sometimes, for some of us, when it comes to money, it’s never enough. It’s a cash grab often euphemistically called inflation. And my, is it a tangled equation.

According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, the average price of a pound of 100 percent ground beef in May 2026 was $6.75, up 13 percent from a year earlier. Even though I’m an English major, I reflexively did the math: $63 could buy me almost 10 pounds of ground beef at the grocery store. In increments of, say, a third of a pound, that works out to nearly 30 hamburgers. Apparently, there’s an extravagant price to be paid for ambiance.

Clearly, the burgers we savored during our summertime lunch at a local eatery are not prepared with the average American family in mind. They are made for tourists with plenty of disposable income who can whip out their credit cards without hesitation or worry. The same for upper-middle and upper-class locals and seasonal homeowners. It’s just the price of making oneself happy. No systems thinking or examination of conscience required. A delish burger is gastronomic bliss.

Yet, what this hamburger-ed episode symbolically suggests is an increasingly untenable situation for the greater population in the region. Nor is it neighborly. (And frankly, nor is beef an environmentally responsible food given its substantial carbon footprint, but that’s a story for another day.) As well, let’s keep in mind that the playground of the rich requires upkeep. People from all walks of life need to be able to afford to live here to keep the place running.

Something is terribly wrong with this picture. Unfortunately, this column doesn’t have the space to propose a convenient 10-step solution. Nor do I have all the answers. It’s complicated.

But I can tell you this: When it comes to the cost of living in northern Michigan, it is what it is isn’t cutting it.

Everyone should be able to afford a casual restaurant-served hamburger, tater tots – and heck, screw the soft drinks: let’s have a beer! – on any given day here. Such comfort food should not be a budget-busting, practically upscale dining experience.

Yet realistically, cheeseburgers in our Up North paradise will no doubt continue to carry a steep and sometimes prohibitive price. Meanwhile, the implications strike me as something for us all to chew on.

Tim Mulherin’s This Magnetic North: Candid Conversations on a Changing Northern Michigan is a 2026 Michigan Notable Book. His next book explores wildlife in Michigan and Indiana and the rediscovery of awe.