A burger is a burger—until, of course, you really start thinking about them, which I often do. The basic tenets of a burger should first be defined as ground beef, cooked somehow, and served on bread. Where the burger chefs of America and beyond have taken the dish from that starting point has become a thing of legend. It seems every cooking method and condiment has been explored, generating legions of absurd cheeseburger concoctions on menus across the land. 

But to me, hamburger architecture is paramount. The burger should not be a complicated thing; like a haiku, the best examples benefit from a limitation of form. Simplicity trumps all, and fewer ingredients and condiments involved allow the beefiness of the burger to shine. In the interest of creating the perfect burger, less here is far more.

This list represents the most important styles that exist in the U.S. today—the ones I believe should be sought out, appreciated, and consumed (with the exception of the Mini Burger, which should be avoided). These burgers are the jumping off point for so many other variations on a theme, and to be honest, the burgers you're really looking for. They are the ones you will invariably return to—your daily beaters, the platonic ideal. 

Here is a taxonomy of burger styles in America. 

Everyone wants to be a backyard-burger hero. Who wouldn’t? But oddly, of all the burger styles, this is the most difficult to master. The grilled burger requires insanely high heat, precision, timing, and lots of practice. But not all flame is the same. Most restaurants in America use propane as a heat source, which inevitably imparts a spent-gas flavor that I think is off-putting. The best way to enjoy a grilled burger is in your backyard over hot coals.

Where to get one: If you are in Pittsburgh, hit up Tessaro’s (4601 Liberty Ave, 412-682-6808), one of the only burger joints in America cooking over a wood fire.

Once complimentary fare designed to keep patrons drinking (and not go home), the traditional Pub Burger was cooked on a tiny flattop behind the bar. And because most bars would rather chill beers than vegetables, a true Pub Burger is devoid of things like lettuce and tomato, opting for the sturdier shelf-life condiments such as the sliced pickle chip and raw onion.

Where to get one: A pitch perfect example of this burger can be found at Paul’s Tavern (176 Locust St, Dubuque, IA, 563-556-9944) or any dark bar with history, taxidermy, and ornery regulars.

Minneapolis may have birthed the first Jucy Lucy (correctly misspelled on the menu at Matt’s Bar in 1953), but today this cheese-stuffed burger can be found in cities all over the U.S. Two thin beef patties are crimped together with a folded slice of yellow American tucked inside. This burger—more ambitious than your casual tavern fare—is part science experiment and part greasy grub. When properly cooked on a flattop, the Jucy Lucy looks more clam-shaped than the familiar bar burger, with the cheese on the verge of bursting forth. Take your time with this American classic—bite too soon and suffer second-degree burns from the hot, molten cheese inside. A patron at Matt’s Bar once offered this priceless advice, “Take small bites, slowly…”

Where to get one: Matt's Bar (3500 Cedar Ave, Minneapolis, MN, 612-722-7072)

Arguably the most historically significant burger style in the history of American gastronomy, the Smashed Classic contains DNA from the first burgers in the country. This style even predates the standardization of the hamburger bun. Before the days of preformed patties and frozen beef, burger joints would roll small balls of beef, toss them on a hot flattop griddle, and whack them into patties with a spatula. This category contains a few subsets, with one of the most important being the oft-misunderstood slider.

Where to get one: Today, the Smashed Classic can be found all over America at places like The White Rose (1301 E Elizabeth Ave, Linden, NJ, 908-486-9651) Wedl’s (200 E Racine St, Jefferson, WI, 920-674-3637) and Powers Hamburger Shop (1402 S Harrison St, Fort Wayne, IN, 260-422-6620). Served on simple white squishy buns, it’s hard to argue with the Smashed Classic’s appeal.

In the days of a burgeoning car culture in Southern California, a unique burger experience was born. At places like In-N-Out Burger and Carl’s Jr., burgers as a complete meal began to steal the hearts of America. The classic fast-food burger model contains equal parts beef-to-veggies. Two thin-griddled patties are married to a sizable complement of crisp iceberg lettuce, a fresh slice of tomato, melty American cheese, which is wrapped in a toasted white bun. The result is heavenly—a perfectly complex arrangement of flavors and textures that could only have come from sunny L.A.

Where to get one: In-N-Out (Los Angeles, CA) 

This regional Midwestern sandwich is basically an unformed burger served on a white squishy bun with mustard and pickle. Technically, this is not a burger, but one bite says otherwise. The pebbly, steamed beef (think Sloppy Joe without the slop) is so intensely beefy that I’d have a hard time booting it from the burger category.

Where to get one: The Loose Meat sandwich can be found in every corner of Iowa, as well as parts of Ohio, Kansas and Illinois, popularized by the Maid Rite chain and Nu-Way of Wichita, Kansas.

The Patty Melt combines two of my favorite foods—the hamburger and the grilled cheese. It’s safe to assume that the first Patty Melt was clearly the product of necessity, a burger kitchen with a shortage of burger buns. A proper Patty Melt is served on rye with Swiss cheese and sautéed onions, but walk into any diner in America and find versions that substitute the Swiss for American cheese and the rye for wheat or white bread. And when prepared correctly, the crunchy, buttery toast and the hot mess of beef and cheese may actually rival the classic American cheeseburger.

Where to get one: Joe's Diner (85 Center St, Lee, MA, 413-243-9746)

Not a slider, the Mini Burger is just that—a scale model of a full-sized burger. It’s a style beloved by caterers because of it’s bite-sized cuteness and visual appeal, but loathed by most because they usually suck. I have NEVER eaten a mini burger that I’ve liked, and it’s not the chef’s fault. The size alone is the Mini Burger’s sole downfall. Any chef that attempts to take something as perfect as a burger and reproduce a tiny version is looking for trouble. Imagine attempting a layer cake in miniature—good luck.

In the year 2000, chef Daniel Boulud altered the burgerscape forever when he introduced the absurdly tasty DB Burger at his DB Bistro Moderne. Boulud boldly constructed a cheeseburger stuffed with perfectly braised short rib and fois gras, topped with shaved black truffle. The gimmick worked and cleared the way for just about every other top-end restaurant to include an overthought, expensive cheeseburger on their menus. Some are actually very good, but most are absurd piles of expensive condiments commonly found on the best plates in Michelin-starred restaurants. And a recent, welcome addition to this category was unquestionably dry-aged beef, which naturally elevates the cheeseburger to funk status.

Where to get one: DB Bistro Moderne (55 W 44th St, New York, NY, 212-391-2400)
 

Burger diversity abounds in America if you know where to look. Across the country, burger styles specific to a region can be found, but in the interest of brevity it would be impossible to cover them all here (yes, there are THAT many hyper-regional styles). Consider the Cuban Frita of Miami (with chorizo spices blended into the beef patty), the Loco-Moco of Hawaii (a hamburger ‘plate’ over a bed of rice, covered with brown gravy), the Olive Burger of Michigan (a topping made from chopped green olives and mayonnaise), and the Slug Burger of Northern Mississippi (a burger made with day-old bread crumbs mixed into the beef), just to name a few. When you are feeling adventurous and ready to stray from the American classic styles listed above, there is a world of regional burgers awaiting you.