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"Ham or cheese?" the counterman asks when you pull up a stool at this plain, bare bones burger joint. There's no menu, but you won't need one. The only items to choose from are single or double hamburgers, cheeseburger, fries, and a daily pie. The rough-hewn black plywood counter is often filled to capacity by eight gray-uniformed cadets from the nearby police academy, or by workers in the neighborhood drawn to the great value. Evenings, the place fills with hip-hop revelers and drunken frat-boy types. Don’t look for add-ons here: no lettuce, no tomato, no Portobello mushrooms. But you can get sweet, caramelized onions on your burger or vinegary tart sliced pickles on the side. Seasoned and molded by hand right in front of you, the smallish burgers are cooked to order from large, round patties, flattened with the spatula on the grill. The soft, sweetish potato buns bear a striking resemblance to the ones at Danny Meyer's Shake Shack, and make an excellent bed for these above-average burgers. The patties are thicker than White Castle burgers, and pack more flavor. One is perfect for a small child, but regular customers order two to four per person, depending on appetite. Drink options are equally limited: only Diet Rite, root beer, orange soda in the fountain, and Red Bull in the can. — Nancy Davidson

This joint bears no relation and very little resemblance to the charmingly retro Burger Joint embedded at the Parker Meridian Hotel.

Hamburger, $1.25