If you want to understand hamburgers on a fundamental level—any obscure factoid about their rise in fast-food culture, or which institutions forever changed the patty's DNA in America—all roads lead to George Motz. For years now, the author and filmmaker has traveled the country studying the art of making patties in road-side shacks and small town diners, absorbing the kind of intel that has transformed short-order cooks into national icons, and griddles into palimpsests of grease. 

But in preparation for his first cookbook, The Great American Burger Book: How to Make Authentic Regional Hamburgers at Home, there was one concern: Motz didn't want to go on a crusade divulging recipe secrets that have stood the test of time for nearly half a century. That's when the light bulb went off. Instead of breaking some sacred pact, Motz realized he "could pinpoint a method to a region. No one had ever done that before," he says. "Most people identified burgers by toppings." There were reasons for why methods became tied to certain places, and it became his job to crack the code.

For Motz, the burger is the perfect comfort food, the magic combination of sweet, salty, crunchy, soft, hot, and cold that helps to explain why its formula has been remixed endlessly. "A pulled-pork sandwich takes 16 hours to make. A cheeseburger takes two and a half minutes," he says. "It's inexpensive to make a good burger, and you don't have to do too much to end up with an enormously satisfying experience."

Even more so, many traditions developed out of necessity of the moment. "It's not like these things were thought about in a corporate lab somewhere and then presented at a tasting panel," he says. The deep-fried burger, Motz explains, came into existence when someone forgot to empty the grease and the patty floated to the top, signaling its readiness; smashing onions into a burger became a way to extend the beef for Oklahoma railroad workers who were on strike and short on cash. 

The recipes in Motz's book are a way to connect to the past, a view into burger life that might normally be confined to a 50-mile radius. "This is about celebrating regionality," he says. "Other than just making these at home, I encourage readers to visit these places. Sit there and talk to the workers in front of the open grill. It becomes a much better experience."

To understand the burger at its core, you must keep track of its regional variations,  from slugburgers in northern Mississippi, or Hot Pocket-like bierocks in the Nebraska/Kansas area. Here is an essential guide to regional burgers in America.

Target region: Central Connecticut
Where to get it: Ted's (1046 Broad St, Meriden, 855-860-8646; tedsrestaurant.com)

The backstory: "People think a burger has to be licked by flame or covered with toppings. The beauty of this burger is that it’s beefy, and that’s it. That's because the meat is cooked in a steam heat box with metal trays, which is probably the healthiest way to do it. It's a closed circuit, almost like a smoking contraption. The steam circulates and the flame never touches the burger. There's no griddle char. The cheese is also steamed (separately from the burger), so it gets very soft and gooey, and is then poured onto the burger. It's probably the ugliest burger in America, but it's also one of the tastiest." 

Target region: Wisconsin
Where to get it: Pete's Hamburgers (118 W Blackhawk Ave, Prairie du Chien, peteshamburgers.com)

The backstory: "A man named Pete Gokey was selling burgers at a circus or fair. He was trying to make a lot of them at a time, but realized they would dry out if people didn't come by. Eventually he boils onions in water and starts putting the patties in it, which creates this poached burger. It’s very similar to the steamed burger but the difference is that it’s sitting in water. It’s very moist but it also has a specific flavor because of that onion water [it's sitting in]. With the steamed cheeseburger, all the fat ends up pouring off. With the poached burger, the beef fat goes and works into the burger."

Target region: Northern Mississippi 
Where to get it: Bill's Hamburgers (310 Main St N, Amory, 662-256-2085)

The backstory: "At some point, one diner decided to extend the burger by putting some dry bread crumbs in it. It's almost like you're eating a toasted bread burger. And when you cook it on the flat top, all the fat goes back into the bread crumbs. At some point in its history the slugburger transitions from beef to pork. It's like a pork patty that has potato starch in it, almost like a reconstituted pork tenderloin." 

Target region: Wisconsin
Where to get it: Solly's Grille (4629 N Port Washington Rd, Milwaukee, 414-332-8808; sollysgrille.com)

The backstory: "It was invented by a guy in Milwaukee. Wisconsin is known as a dairy state, and for good reason some of the best butter comes from there. Here butter is a condiment, like a pickle. When the burger shows up you don’t chat and sit there—you eat it right away. Because what happens is as long as the burger’s hot, the butter will melt to the bottom and become a soggy disaster. But if you’re lucky, you can actually get a semi-solid piece of butter in your mouth, and it creates something I can’t even describe. That’s what the ideal for the butter burger is: get the burger to your mouth with the butter still intact. In the book I say to put the butter on the bun side, then you marry the bun to the burger. That’s how it won’t melt as fast."

Target region: Montana
Where to get it: Matt's Place Drive-In (2339 Placer St, Butte, 406-782-8049)

The backstory: "It's a burger with peanuts and mayonnaise. You end up with this crazy profile that is sort of sugar and salt, crunchy and soft, all together in one. Marry that to beef and it’s amazing. They take crushed sundae nuts, throw it into a coffee cup, and stir it with a bit of Miracle Whip, and then ladle it onto the burger. Each one is custom made; it’s not like there’s a big vat of peanut sauce in the back. I believe the mix of nuts and the mayo together actually causes the burger to not melt the mayo right away. So it’s like the butter burger in that it’s a semi-solid state, which is sort of what you want anyway."

Target region: Tennessee
Where to get it: Dyer's (205 Beale St, Memphis, 901-527-3937; dyersonbeale.com)

The backstory: "Places were cooking burgers in a pan, and then the pan created beef grease; and instead of dumping the pan out they just kept going, so they just started throwing the burgers into the grease at a very low temperature. At Dyer's they mash out the patty so it’s paper thin and then scoop it up with this big wide spatula and flip it gently into the oil. That way it won’t explode. It only cooks about thirty seconds, and when it rises to the top it’s basically done. Before it's removed completely, they lift it out of the oil and put a slice of cheese on top, and quickly dip the patty back into the oil so that the hot oil melts the cheese into the patty. You have to do that fast because otherwise the cheese will slide off into the oil and you’ll have to do it all over again."

Target region: Kansas/Nebraska 
Where to get it: Tiny cafes throughout rural Kansas/Nebraska 

The backstory: "It's a true regional anomaly. We know the concept came from German and eastern European immigrants 150 years ago when they came to the Midwest. It's essentially a savory pastry filled with something. Today we know it as the hot pocket. A special one though is the bierock, and you can find something similar at a chain called Runza's. I believe it’s part of hamburger history. It actually predates the traditional hamburger on a bun by almost fifty years, at least." 

Target region: Missouri
Where to get it: Wheel Inn Drive-In (closed)

The backstory: "The guberburger features peanut butter. It's a bit salty and sweet. I tell people to think beef satay. The peanut butter is ladled onto the burger. It'll be kept in some kind of vessel near the grill, so it stay very warm and soupy. You want the peanut butter to be melty. It never really took off. It seemed like it was a stunt food since everyone beyond this one restaurant went out of business." 

Target region: Texas
Where to get it: Chris Madrid's (1900 Blanco Rd, San Antonio, 210-735-3552; chrismadrids.com)

The backstory: "The original beanburger featured fritos, cheeze whiz, and refried beans on top of a burger, which you could find at Sill's Snack Shack. It eventually went out of business. Today's interpretation of that, the Macho Tostado at Chris Madrid's, is a little different in that they fry their own tortilla chips and use cheddar cheese. He described it as a hybrid burger-enchilada plate." 

Target region: New Jersey
Where to get it: White Rose (1301 E Elizabeth Ave, Linden, 908-486-9651)

The backstory: "Taylor ham is a regional product specific to southern New Jersey. For lack of a better term, it's almost like a garlicky bologna. It's a little smoky and was originally served on breakfast sandwiches. A friend of mine at a place called White Rose decided to throw it on a burger, and the Jersey burger was born. Everyone's doing it now, but he was the first, way back in the '90s. At his place he makes what I consider to be the traditional American hamburger. It’s been smashed on a flat top, so it’s about method, not toppings. That was first done for speed, and he does it the same way: he takes a small ball of meat, smashes it with the back of a spatula, it cooks super fast, and serves it with a small bun."