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"The hamburger is a symbol of everything that makes America great. Straightforward, egalitarian, substantial, and good-natured, it is also a little bloody at times.\n\nIt may come big and ungarnished, the East Coast ideal, tender and untroubled by bones or gristle, everything you look for in a filet mignon but seldom find. It may be the West Coast model, swelling with vegetation, brimming with health and well-being, piled high with all that a seed catalog can provide. A great burger, regardless of regional differences, instills a sense of optimism and fulfillment, that all is right at the table or the counter or the woodgrain, screwed-to-the-floor, fast-food booth.\n\nAt its best, it eliminates the need for conversation or the urge to glance up at the TV over the bar. If you find yourself eating silently, eyes closed, ignoring everything around you, even the unavoidable burger-joint din, you have come upon a burger that can be pronounced a success.\n\nOf course, it must be molded by hand, artfully seared, and offered medium-rare. If that\u2019s too much to ask, not overcooked would be nice. Whose idea was it anyway that serving desiccated burgers to Americans would enable all of us to spring back to health? Excessive reliance on condiments is another alarming development, especially in the matter of ketchup, the burger Band-Aid. Ketchup is valuable only when an emergency jolt of moisture, sweetness, acidity, and flavor is required. No hamburger is inedible if you put enough ketchup on it, but no hamburger that has ketchup on it can be considered great. Mustard is a mistake, unless you\u2019re French and welcome a vinegary jolt with your food, while pickles, those subversive little sweet and sour instruments, fill me with dread. When I find pickles furtively inserted into my burger, I generally look to the heavens with a clenched fist and sob, \u201CWhy?\u201C\n\nI\u2019ve always claimed I\u2019d go a long way for the right burger, and indeed I did. I traveled 23,750 miles\u2014that\u2019s just 1,152 miles short of encircling the globe at the equator\u2014looking for the best ones in America. I consumed more than 150,000 calories but resisted drinking a can of soda with every burger, saving more than 22,000 calories that way. I ate crazy burgers, Kobe burgers, bison burgers, longhorn burgers, ostrich burgers, onion burgers, lamb burgers, and of course, cheeseburgers. (Note that cheese goes so well with burgers that the word is assembled differently, with no space in between.) I tried fast-food burgers, and while there\u2019s a sameness to them that overwhelms any attempts at excellence, I found some mighty fine values on those dollar menus, assuming you don\u2019t mind your burgers hard and dry, like the smiles on the faces of the teenagers who take your order. I visited Burger Heaven. Actually, I went to a few places called that. I was also in burger hell, which is Milwaukee, home of the butter burger, essentially meat saturated with grease.\n\nMy goal was to find the twenty best burgers, and with apologies to all the restaurants, stands, bars, and grills I missed, I\u2019d like to believe I did well. I ate 162 burgers in ninety-three establishments. Some of them were fancified, proffering foie gras-stuffed burgers costing as much as $29. Some were dumps, with burgers hovering near a buck. At no time, despite pleas from loved ones, did I have a physician standing by. I found no correlation between price and tastiness, nor did ambience count for a great deal. A burger requires only a cook of modest accomplishments, one who knows enough to remove it from the fire before it has lost its juiciness and not to press down hard with a spatula\u2014squishing might work with grilled cheese, but it\u2019s fatal for burgers. Waitresses who work in burger joints can have scars and tattoos, as long as they\u2019re not self-inflicted. Motorcycles are fine, provided they\u2019re not parked inside.\n\nTo be precise, I visited ninety-five places, but I didn\u2019t eat at two. In Boston, I attempted lunch at Tim\u2019s Bar and Grill, which features a huge rubber garbage pail in the dining area. The waitress was so surly (\u201CIf you don\u2019t like the service, you can leave\u201C) that I walked out. Where\u2019d you find your decorator, Tim, at the sanitation department? I also undertook a 360-mile round-trip drive to Little Compton, Rhode Island, to try the burger at the legendary Commons Lunch, only to find that it had burned down.\n\nIn the course of my travels, I learned to love the bun. Bunless, a burger is merely a chopped steak, the food of mess halls and chow lines, prisons and cafeterias. The roll makes the burger, although it must not be too large or too obtrusive; a common error of steak houses, which rarely offer memorable burgers, is that they buy buns so big, fat, and tall that their burgers assume the dimensions of wedding cakes. A bun may be lightly toasted or grilled, but it is vital that it be fresh. I am also possessed of newfound respect for the onion, which is rarely esteemed. A few thin circles of mild raw onion add sweetness and crunch. Nothing else is needed on a burger, although cheese has its place.\n\n\n\nI took my father to a roadhouse specializing in burgers in South Miami, a decision I regretted. The parking lot was practically rubble, overgrown with weeds. He was unable to use his walker, but we finally made it into Bill &amp;amp; Ted\u2019s Tavern with me half-lifting him and apologizing for being an inconsiderate son.\n\nWe ordered, and I\u2019ll never forget the glow when he bit into his burger after years of assisted-living cuisine. I thought the burgers were slightly overcooked, but the onion-relish-pickle package was brilliantly balanced, a condiment tour de force, and when I asked him why he was so happy, he said, \u201CI never get to eat food like this.\u201C The burger, fare not favored by institutional nutritionists, invariably inspires affection. It brings back memories of backyard barbecues and family gatherings, and it comes in all sizes, adding to its appeal. Burgers can be as small as a couple of ounces or as large as a full pound, although it seems that whenever restaurants dish up the largest size, they feel obligated to issue warnings. (\u201CTry our new 1lb. burger\u2026if you dare,\u201C read the promo for the Burgerpalooza at the Jolly Trolley in Mamaroneck, New York.)\n\nThe oversize burger is a haunch of ground meat, hand-formed, upon which the diner happily gnaws. It is an exaggeration of America\u2019s plenty, the banana split of sandwiches. Smaller burgers are essentially platforms for unlimited embellishments. Piled high with extras, this breed of burger is a pi\u00F1ata at a birthday party, a festival miniaturized. Everybody who loves beef has a favorite burger, but hardly anybody agrees on which is best. Before heading off, I consulted food Web sites, food experts, and food writers. I was persuaded by a fellow I met at a food festival in Virginia to visit a restaurant outside Lawton, Oklahoma, that he promised had the best burger in America. I drove up from Dallas, more than 200 miles, to eat at Meers Store &amp;amp; Restaurant, located next to a bison preserve. The menu read: \u201CAll steaks &amp;amp; hamburgers cooked to order,\u201C and I had this conversation with my waiter:\n\nME: Medium-rare, please.\n\nHIM: All our burgers are well-done.\n\nME: The menu says they\u2019re cooked to order.\n\nHIM: That means we don\u2019t start cooking until you order it.\n\nI had a cheeseburger anyway, and it\u2019s a shame the cook had to ruin it, because the concept was a good one\u2014a wide, flat burger with gooey cheese. I believe I\u2019ve made my feelings clear about the medium-rare burger, but if the meat is particularly lean, it should be eaten rare. A well-done burger is a badly done burger, food for the meek, and if that\u2019s the way we\u2019re going to have our burgers, then we might as well give up trying to enjoy ourselves and make green salads our national dish.\n\nAlthough I endured occasional disappointments, I never wearied of life on the hamburger highway. No matter how many burgers I ate, and I believe my daily consumption never exceeded six, no matter how full of chopped beef I was at the end of a long but satisfying day, I always woke up the next morning eager to begin again.\n\n\n\nSirloin Burger, Le TubHollywood, FL\n\nThis is a dream of a dump, located on the site of a former Sunoco gas station. Outside there\u2019s assorted porcelain\u2014toilets, sinks, tubs. Most have plants in them, and a lot of the plants look dead. Inside is a pool table, a jukebox, and tables reminiscent of the ones at highway rest stops. The view is magnificent, the Intracoastal Waterway at its broadest and most dramatic. Le Tub doesn\u2019t take credit cards, and it has signs everywhere reinforcing that rule. I\u2019m surprised anybody who eats here qualifies for a credit card.\n\nThe menu is big, and the food isn\u2019t bad, except for the Sirloin Burger, which is magnificent. It\u2019s slowly seared on an indoor grill, crusty on the outside, juicy inside, always perfectly cooked. At eight to ten ounces, it\u2019s ideal big-burger size, and it\u2019s shaped like a pincushion, with sloping sides, which means you get a nice gradient of doneness. The bun has a few poppy seeds and looks like a kaiser roll, but it\u2019s smaller and softer. It\u2019s just right for enveloping the meat, which is judiciously seasoned and spiced, mostly with salt and pepper, I suspect. That\u2019s all it needs. No cheese or condiments required.\n\nI don\u2019t understand how this spot came to have the best burger in America, but it does. Regardless of where I am in South Florida, I always make my way here for lunch. I sit at the bar and watch yachts that cost millions drift by, draped with women who cost more, and I think to myself how lucky I am to be at Le Tub.\n\nLuger Burger, Peter Luger Steak HouseBrooklyn, NY\n\nThe legendary Peter Luger is celebrated for its porterhouse, which is buttered, seared, and sliced. But consider this: Its burger (available only at lunch) may be even better than the steak.\n\nAt first glance, the roll seems too large, as it is at most steak houses. It isn\u2019t. The half pound of beef, so charred on the outside it appears overcooked, isn\u2019t. The magnificent roll settles beautifully around the succulent, juicy burger, assembled from prime aged-porterhouse trimmings and prime chuck. You can get raw onion. Don\u2019t. It comes with steak sauce. Superfluous. You can have cheese. Unnecessary. There\u2019s a bacon option. Hold on. The bacon, three-eighths-inch thick, slightly blackened, smoky, and chewy-tender, complements the beef the way mustard accents a hot dog. I can never decide: With bacon? Without bacon? Both ways are just right. The fries are among the best in America. One warning: While you\u2019re waiting for your burger to arrive, try not to eat the entire basket of irresistible bread.\n\nNot Just a Burger, Spiced Pear Restaurant at the Chanler HotelNewport, RI\n\nThis burger doesn\u2019t taste like a burger. It\u2019s more in the North Carolina pulled-pork family, even though it\u2019s all Kobe beef. (Kobe beef has a lot of the qualities of pork\u2014it\u2019s soft and sweet.) Chef Richard Hamilton, who has big-time talent, makes the best high-concept burger in America. His roll, which is a bit towering, worried me at first, but it flattened beautifully and didn\u2019t get in the way. The burger, which consists of barbecued Kobe brisket surrounded by chopped Kobe beef, is topped with enormously complex but not overpowering coleslaw and sits on a tomato-onion jam that\u2019s sort of a cross between ketchup and barbecue sauce.\n\nThe twelve-ounce creation isn\u2019t so much a juicy burger as a mouthwatering, heart-stopping, wildly rich chopped-beef sandwich every bit as satisfying as the best sandwich you\u2019ve ever eaten down south. It\u2019s a burger breakthrough, and the accompanying garlic-basil-Parmesan potato chips are awe-inspiring.\n\nRouge Burger, RougePhiladelphia. PA\n\nThe clientele appears to consist primarily of aging men of means, each one accompanied by an Eastern European model/actress. (Who knew that white slavery lived on in stuffy old Philadelphia?) Do these people care that they\u2019re eating the best cheeseburger in America? Rouge is so chic I\u2019m surprised that anybody pays attention to the food. I\u2019m sure they admire the staff, all in black. They probably enjoy sitting outside, right on Rittenhouse Square. Back when I was growing up in the city, outdoor dining didn\u2019t exist.\n\nHow is a simple, plump cheeseburger able to compete with all this stylishness? The Rouge Burger does just fine. The aged Gruy\u00E8re cheese is strong, nutty, and pungent. The caramelized onion is judiciously applied. The bread is toasted brioche. The fries are good. The well-salted sirloin is very lean, so it\u2019s best ordered rare. I could swear the hostess, to stand out from her minions, was wearing pink pajamas, but maybe I was dizzy with pleasure from dining at Rouge and encountering a Philadelphia I never knew.\n\nKobe Sliders, Barclay PrimePhiladelphia, PA\n\nA slider is the small and rather grotesque (but nonetheless tasty) burger bagged by the bunch at White Castle. The meat in a genuine slider is square, steam-fried, overdone, and punctured with tiny holes, as though it had been attacked by a vampire. Hamburgers on naval vessels are sometimes called sliders. All in all, sliders aren\u2019t esteemed in the gastronomic firmament.\n\nAt Barclay Prime, a new steak house, the small burgers are inexplicably referred to as sliders, but they\u2019re not sliders at all. They\u2019re a mighty three inches tall. Each is made with two ounces of Kobe beef, and they come two to an order, on miniature, exceptionally buttery brioche buns. One is topped with sliced tomato and marinated shallots, the other with caramelized onion and Gruy\u00E8re. They may be the most succulent burgers in America, and they\u2019re automatically prepared medium-rare. I asked our waiter why a steak house would have a need for sliders, and he replied proudly, \u201CThey\u2019re like little protein appetizers. It\u2019s amazing how perfectly they get the palate ready for a big steak.\u201C\n\nCalifornia Burger, Houston&amp;#39;sSanta Monica, CA\n\nWhen you figure how many millions of burgers emerge from chain-restaurant kitchens, it\u2019s not surprising that one of them gets it right. Houston\u2019s, a big, bustling, commercial spot, nails its California Burger.\n\nThis burger had no flaws. Zero. The roll: soft and sweet, almost like brioche. The meat: coarsely ground and flavorful. The red onion: mild and crunchy. The cheese: fully melted Monterey Jack. The condiment: a touch of mustard-honey dressing. Avocado and arugula are another great touch. Houston\u2019s California Burger is a rainbow of colors, and it\u2019s comforting, perfect for soothing Santa Monica working stiffs after a hard morning at the macram\u00E9 shop. And talk about burger engineering. I asked the manager about the sliver of greenery under the burger, and he said it was cabbage, put there to avoid untoward sogginess at the base of the bun.\n\nBuckhorn Burger, BuckhornSan Antonio, NM\n\nNo burger has bigger flavors than the legendary New Mexico green-chili cheeseburger. Basically, it\u2019s too much of everything on a bun: ground beef, green chilies, mustard, tomato, lettuce, chopped onion, and pickle. Such a combination makes no culinary sense, but at Buckhorn, which makes the best green-chili cheeseburgers in a tiny town devoted to little else, the result is spectacularly tasty and eminently coherent. The too strong onions, hot-pungent chilies, and potent mustard all battle to a spectacular draw. The cheese is the binder and the pickle the crunchy refresher, while the lettuce and tomato hang on for dear life and the coarsely ground beef acts as a solid, sensible underpinning.\n\nBuckhorn tavern, which naturally calls its green-chili cheeseburger a Buckhorn Burger, offers a great mouthful of hot, sweet, juicy, chewy flavors. It\u2019s the ultimate in a burger with a burn.\n\nHamburger, Miller&amp;#39;s BarDearborn, MI\n\nMiller\u2019s is a blockhouse of a bar, gloomy outside and not much better inside. It appears to be a place where people vanish and don\u2019t reappear for days, but locals don\u2019t come here to drink. The day I visited, everybody was bellied up to the bar, eating burgers.\n\nThey\u2019re made from ground round, which is lean and usually flavorless. Here it\u2019s been used for burgers since the \u201950s, so I was willing to try one, figuring Miller\u2019s might know something I didn\u2019t. I ended up eating three. I ordered the first medium-rare, and it was very good, made from the juiciest round I\u2019ve ever tasted. I ordered the second rare, and it was sensational. The cheeseburger, topped with Velveeta, a variation on American cheese, was darned good, too. When I asked my waitress what made the burger so special, she suggested it might be the well-seasoned grill, which had been replaced only once in the fifteen years she\u2019d worked there. Miller\u2019s has no menu, no tomatoes, no lettuce, no plates, no utensils, and no check\u2014it\u2019s all on the honor system. When I asked the bartender to explain the fortress-like look, he told me with a straight face that cars speeding down Michigan Avenue were always crashing into the building, so the owners decided to make it impregnable.\n\nCheeseburger, Burger Joint, le Parker Meridien HotelNew York City\n\nThis spot is supposed to look like a small-town \u201950s burger hangout, but it doesn\u2019t. It looks like a small-town \u201950s pizza hangout. (Burger joints had more chrome.) Still, it\u2019s masterfully geeky, with hideous fake-wood paneling. I thought a particularly nice touch was a Christmas wreath in June. The burgers, however they\u2019re ordered, will have you dancing the jitterbug. The day I stopped in, a hotel chef by the name of Rudi\u2014the name was stitched on his fancy chef\u2019s whites\u2014was cooking, and he got them exactly right. The plain burger on an Arnold bun was the essence of classic simplicity. The cheeseburger with the works\u2014tomato, lettuce, onion, pickle, ketchup, mayo, and mustard\u2014was even better, especially when the counterman didn\u2019t overdo the mustard-mayo- ketchup amalgam. (Very few restaurants leave the vital job of accessorizing to customers.) The burger joint has quickly become a Manhattan icon, where persons of all economic stations gather to eat in peace. Or maybe it\u2019s more like a jungle watering hole, where the animals wait until they\u2019ve departed before they start tearing one another apart.\n\nNumber Five, Keller&amp;#39;s Drive-inDallas, TX\n\nThe lady in the red Lexus that was parked alongside me leaned out the window and said, \u201CIf you come here with a friend who has a convertible, you can sit all night. It\u2019s better than going to a nice restaurant.\u201C Keller\u2019s, out on Northwest Highway, is the best drive-in I\u2019ve ever seen, and I try not to miss many. Flash your lights and out come the carhops, who aren\u2019t dolled up and aren\u2019t on roller skates, although they will call you \u201Csweetie.\u201C They\u2019re also strong enough to lug cases of beer out to waiting cars. (Not many restaurants specialize in beer by the case.)\n\nKeller\u2019s is filled with guys hanging out. They sit on the tailgates of their pickups, feet up on coolers. The burger of choice is the Number Five, made exactly the way hamburgers were back when drive-ins first appeared, about a half-century ago. At $2.38, it\u2019s not priced a whole lot more than it would have been back then. The Number Five includes two beef patties, shredded lettuce, tomato, American cheese, and a Thousand Island\u2013style \u201Cspecial sauce\u201C on a soft grilled poppy-seed role. The meat\u2019s overcooked, but that doesn\u2019t diminish the nostalgia, maybe the best in the burger world. Keller\u2019s even has a galvanized tin roof to protect cars. I suggested to my waitress, Lana, that it probably sounded awfully loud when it rained. \u201CIt\u2019s not so bad,\u201C she replied, \u201Cbut you should hear it when it hails.\u201C\n\nGrilled Bistro Burger, Bistro Don GiovanniNapa, CA\n\nAlthough this supremely cute spot does everything skillfully, I don\u2019t recommend ordering your burger any which way but plain. It\u2019s just too good to dress up with grilled onion or cheese or garlic-mayonnaise. The meat is chuck, and the roll a subdued version of focaccia, which is bread brushed with olive oil and sprinkled with salt. The burger is perfectly cooked on an indoor mesquite grill, and not much food is more delicious than that. Sure, you can charcoal-grill at home, but then you have to worry about famished neighbors climbing over your fence.\n\nHamburger, Bobcat BiteSante Fe, NM\n\nAlthough Bobcat Bite is famous for its green-chili cheeseburger, its best burger comes unadorned and is a mix of chuck and sirloin, the perfect blend. My admiration for this burger may also have been elevated by the tiny restaurant\u2019s unsurpassed ambience. It stands between the Jemez Mountains and the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, which glow red when reflecting the setting sun. While I was waiting for a table, some kindly locals pointed out the high-desert flora to me. Or maybe it was the fauna. I think one is meat, the other condiments.\n\nCheeseburger, White MannaHackensack, NJ\n\nThe burgers here are small, and when I asked what the record was for the most eaten at one sitting, the grill cook told me that some guy had managed thirty-two. I was awed, not because somebody ate thirty-two burgers of about two ounces each but that this superhero also ate thirty-two potato rolls, and they looked full-size to me. New Jersey is one manly state. It\u2019s also a legendary diner state, boasting some of the best in America. White Manna is a 1930s artifact with a horseshoe-shaped counter that seats twelve. In the middle of the horseshoe stands the grill cook, behaving like a sushi chef, molding, cooking, handing out the burgers. Ask for cheese and onion and the too-big roll fills up amazingly well.\n\nHamburger, J. G. MelonNew York City\n\n\u201CThe best burger is the one you want the minute your plane touches down after you\u2019ve been in Europe for three months,\u201C said a friend of mine, an Upper East Sider with the money to do exactly that. \u201CFor me, this is the one.\u201C J.G. Melon\u2019s burger is a Manhattan benchmark. The bun is nicely toasted. The meat is juicy but doesn\u2019t drip. The red onion is thinly sliced. Like well-to-do people with manners, the burger is perfectly correct. The bar scene is a bit annoying\u2014too many yuppies on cell phones, reminding one another how well they\u2019re doing\u2014but otherwise democracy prevails: no reservations, no credit cards, no playing favorites.\n\nBuild Your Own Burger, The CounterSanta Monica, CA\n\nI asked the young girl taking orders if she had ever seen a burger duplicated. \u201CNot really,\u201C she replied. \u201CYou think it might happen, and then somebody adds avocado.\u201C\n\nBy the owner\u2019s calculations, this spot offers more than 300,000 possibilities. At the minimum, you can ask for a one-third-pound plain burger on a regular bun. At the extreme, you can have, for example, a two-thirds- pound veggie burger topped with herbed-goat-cheese spread, roasted-corn-and- black-bean salsa, hard-boiled egg, and dried cranberries on a honey-wheat bun. At least you can. I wouldn\u2019t.\n\nHamburger &amp;amp; Fries, Burger JointSan Francisco, CA\n\nNo place looks less like a joint. It should be renamed the Obsessive-Compulsive Caf\u00E9. It\u2019s neat. It\u2019s scrubbed. The decor is fake \u201950s, with overhead Jetsons-style light fixtures plus red vinyl and stainless steel. The burger is so artistically presented it could be Japanese. (Do the Japanese have burger joints?) Neatly set on a stainless-steel plate is a sheet of wad paper, and atop that rests a deconstructed burger, with a dollop of mayo on the top half of the grilled sesame-seed bun and a burger made from Niman Ranch beef on the bottom half. Lettuce, tomato, red onion, and pickle sit in one orderly pile, fries in another. The people who run the Burger Joint have gotten everything right, except the name.\n\nDouble Bacon Delu with Cheese, Red Mill BurgersSeattle, WA\n\nI got up to leave. My friend, a Seattle resident, yanked me back. I\u2019d just finished eating the basic Red Mill Burger, which is an overdone quarter-pound patty with lettuce and a light, spicy mayo dressing that turned the meat white. Just in time, she remembered what she loved: the burger with everything. The American cheese is artfully melted, the thick pepper bacon superb, the soft roll pretty wonderful, the red onion sweet, the lettuce and tomato good enough, and the mayo dressing just right with this pile of ingredients. It\u2019s a first-rate burger, provided you ask for your meat rare. It won\u2019t come rare, but it will be juicy.\n\nHamburger, Poag Mahone&amp;#39;s Carvery and Ale HouseChicago, IL\n\nThe television, tuned to a Cubs game, was so loud I had to scream my order several times, and all I was trying to say was \u201Chamburger.\u201C I know everybody in Chicago is depressed because the Cubs never win. I never realized they were also deaf. I\u2019d be disheartened, too, if I had to eat burgers in Chicago\u2014Poag Mahone\u2019s was the only place I found that did burgers right. Good bakery buns, soft and sweet. Tasty ground sirloin given a nice char on an indoor grill. Even a \u201CBurger Eater\u2019s Bill of Rights.\u201C Poag Mahone\u2019s lived up to most of its promises, although the pickle spear, guaranteed \u201Ccrisp and cold,\u201C was a tad warm.\n\nOur Famous Burger, Sidetrack Bar and GrillYpsilanti, MI\n\nHere is one of my core culinary credos: The closer you come to a college campus, the worse burgers get. Sidetrack Bar and Grill\u2014named for its location next to an old railroad siding\u2014is an exception. This modern-looking pub, around since 1850, doesn\u2019t seem concerned with pleasing undiscerning Eastern Michigan University freshmen. \u201CWe don\u2019t get much of a young crowd,\u201C my waitress said. The meat, a secret blend, tastes like chuck. The sesame-seed bun is small, soft, and grilled. I recommend a visit to the automobile museum across the street, although they won\u2019t let you play drive-in and eat your burger in a vintage car.\n\nHamburger Sandwich, Louis&amp;#39; LunchNew Haven, CT\n\nThe crew numbers two. A young man takes your order and makes change. An elderly woman in elastic-waist slacks makes the toast, forms the patties, broils the meat, assembles the burgers (with a schmear of something like Cheez Whiz, a tomato slice, and raw onion), slices them in half, sets them on the counter. She\u2019s fast, real fast. In a senior-citizen table-tennis tournament, I\u2019d put my money on her. There are no buns, no fries, no ketchup. Louis\u2019 Lunch claims to have made America\u2019s first hamburger sandwich, back in 1900. If it\u2019s true, it was as significant a moment as the discovery of fire."^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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