Red Mill, in Seattle's quaint Phinney Ridge neighborhood.
Last year I rounded up some of the best burgers in the country. MSN readers weighed in with accusations of idiocy, glaring omissions and, occasionally, even ecstatic agreement -- all reasonable responses given the mouth-watering subject. So for Part II I've trawled the message board, gathering some of the most frequently selected recommendations. I haven't had the chance to try them all, so we are trusting you all on this one. And again, feel free to comment with your own suggestions. I'll kick things off with my own recent burger discovery.
Donovan’s burger, well worth the clangy subway ride.
Donovan's Pub, Queens, N.Y.
The Irish population in Woodside, Queens -- once as high as 80 percent -- has dwindled. But the occasional brogue still bellows and a handful of pubs still pour a proper Guinness. And in the case of Donovan's, broil a proper burger. That's right, broil. Donovan's cooks its hearty burgers under a broiler like a steak -- appropriate given the New York strip composition. The meat is ground fresh daily, packed loosely and simply served with lettuce and tomato. Cheese and raw onion are optional and the rich, straightforward beefy flavor with a perfect char makes Donovan's burger well worth the clangy subway ride.
Miller's Bar, Dearborn, Mich.
In America's Best Burgers Part I, commenters championed the burger at Miller's with Pistons playoff enthusiasm. Why the excitement? Seven ounces of beef, ground fresh each day and so flavorful it renders seasoning completely unnecessary. This 68-year-old dive doesn't actually have a menu, but bar-goers -- many of whom hail from the nearby Ford headquarters -- know what's on the griddle. Burgers come nestled on a steamed white bun and are served on a square of wax paper. Velveeta, Swiss and the usual condiments are optional, but again, the simple high-quality patty stands on its own.
The Thurman Cafe, Columbus, Ohio
Like Miller's, The Thurman Café drew a flood of commenting loyalists on our message boards. This family run operation opened in 1942 in Columbus' historic German Village neighborhood, and -- thanks in part to a chaotic array of pictures, stickers and neon beer signs -- exudes a dive bar honesty that only comes with age. The list of inventive three-quarter-pound burgers is long, but the Thurman Burger is imperative. This eponymous monster arrives like a trash heap of goodness, bursting with ham, mozzarella, American cheese, lettuce, tomato, mushrooms -- still going -- sautéed onions, pickles, peppers and mayo; a bun sits precariously on top, holding on for dear life. Considering the mountain of fixings and flavor, the $9.49 price tag isn't bad.
