I have seen the mountaintop and it is layered thick in cheese and beef.
Since March my friend and I scoured Burbank for the best cheeseburger in the city. Many readers offered their favorite haunts — and some griddle jockeys I met along the way pointed me to new stops on the path to burger Nirvana.
Like all great adventures, it’s about the journey, not the destination. In my ground-beef-laden stupor I discovered a culinary subculture that revels in the art of the burger. Burbank history is deeply slathered in the wizardry of its burger bon vivants — the places people went 20, 30, 40 years ago are still flipping for your pleasure.
People hold fast to their favorites. One restaurant’s entire clientele exists because its members followed the owner when he moved. Several hole-in-the-wall diehards accepted no substitute for their local watering hole. Burbank’s burger joints function as neighborhood hangouts, nostalgia repositories and off-campus studio cafeterias.