An Absolutely Unscientific Study
Who reigns supreme in the greasy, glorious, calorie-soaked kingdom of fast food burgers? We ranked them all. We regret nothing. Our cardiologist regrets everything.
Peer-reviewed by three guys who ate nothing but burgers for a week and are definitely fine.
GOD TIER
You would seriously consider fighting someone for this burger
The Cult. The Myth. The Legend.
Only exists on the West Coast, yet somehow lives rent-free in every East Coaster's head. The menu has 4 items. The wait is 45 minutes. Worth it. Don't argue.
The Bougie Cousin Nobody Minds
Started as a hot dog cart. Now costs $18 for a burger. Somehow you're still okay with this. The ShackSauce does things to your brain that scientists don't fully understand yet.
SOLID TIER
You're happy. Not euphoric. Happy.
The only fast food chain with a social media account that could make you cry. Square patties — because Wendy's doesn't cut corners. Their Twitter, however, absolutely cuts you.
Floor covered in peanuts. Bag overflowing with fries. Zero ambiance. 10/10. The free peanuts are dangerously good. Ordering a "Little" burger is still the size of your face.
Texans will literally fight you if you disrespect Whataburger. They sell Whataburger merch. People wear it. Unironically. The honey butter chicken biscuit is a spiritual experience.
DEPENDABLE TIER
You know exactly what you're getting. And that's fine.
35,000+ locations. You can find a McDonald's on the moon before NASA does. The burger is objectively mid. The fries are objectively perfect. This is a contradiction that nobody questions.
Claims to be "flame-grilled." Has a King mascot that has been haunting people's dreams since 2004. The Whopper slaps. The stores always look like they survived something.
A ButterBurger. They put butter on the bun. Wisconsin said "hold my cheese curd" and absolutely delivered. Unknown outside the Midwest. Extremely underrated by the entire planet.
CHAOTIC NEUTRAL TIER
You never know what you're walking into.
Open 24/7. The menu is 200 items long. Nobody knows what half of them are. Jack is a clown and yet somehow less terrifying than the BK King. The tacos are an enigma scientists study.
You eat in your car. Someone on roller skates brings you food. The tater tots are phenomenal. Half-price happy hour is the only reason any of us have money troubles.
Same restaurant. Two names. An identity crisis masquerading as a fast food chain. West of the Mississippi: Carl's Jr. East: Hardee's. They've never met. They never will.
Another identity crisis. Two windows, no inside seating, maximum chaos. The seasoned fries are top-tier. The entire experience is a fever dream you crave at midnight.
DESPERATION TIER
You're hungry, it's right there, and you've made peace with your choices.
"Sliders." Tiny burgers that you order in quantities of 30 because that seems right. You will never regret this decision during the purchase. You will deeply regret this decision later.
Once a sit-down diner classic. Half the locations have converted to kiosk-only. A lonely kiosk stands where a human used to be. The milkshakes still go crazy though.
They smash it. You get it. It's good. It costs $15. You Google "is smashing the patty actually better" and now you're on food science forums at 2am.
The name is truth in advertising. Rappers have name-dropped this place in songs. If your burger is getting shoutouts in hip-hop, you're doing something right.
Named after a WWII veteran's father. Wholesome origin. The steakburgers are thin and crispy and secretly elite. The frozen custard makes you question all other desserts.
A Yum Brands property that pretends it's independent. The Charburger is genuinely great. Consumer Reports once rated it #1. Nobody talks about it. It has the energy of a good movie nobody watched.
WILDCARD TIER
We don't know how to classify these. They just exist.
Bottomless fries. Read that again. BOTTOMLESS. The servers hate this. You love this. It is not truly a fast food place but the Banzai Burger makes rules irrelevant. Their loyalty app sends more emails than your family.
Only in Oklahoma and surrounding states. They own the cows. They own the farms. They own the delivery trucks. This level of vertical integration belongs in a business school case study, not a burger joint.
(They absolutely lie. We made these up.)
The real winner was the burger we ate along the way.
All jokes aside, the best burger is whichever one you're eating right now because you're hungry and it's there and it smells amazing and oh god just give it to me please.