We Tried And Ranked Every McDonald's Burger

Hey, you — with the functioning arteries! Want to try every McDonald's burger with me? No, don't worry; you don't need to take your own heart health into your own hands eating pounds of beef. I've done the work for you, assuming all risk of gout to consume, categorize, and rank every single burger* at McDonald's in 2025, the year of our lard.

Just kidding, lard is expensive, and the frying oil is vegetarian now, they tell me. Grab your napkins and keep an eye out for Hamburglars; we're going on a mission of mastication, and none may stand in our way. Come! We ride for the Golden Arches at dawn.**

*I triangulated a little bit, where the burger variations were so identical I could tell what was lost and what was gained between iterations. We're on a tight burger budget here, people.

**Technically, 10:30, when McDonald's switches over from the breakfast to lunch menus.

While still very satisfying, there are better options for beef lovers, even if you don't want cheese on it. The two patties come across rather dry. Those of you who do want to keep it simple, I still think you're better off ordering two burgers instead of one double, but maybe you don't want that much bread or something; I don't know how you live your life. If that's the case, maybe if you ask for extra pickles and onions, you'll get this burger over the hump, back to flavor country, which, as we all know, is the name for the outlying foothills of Flavortown. Anyway, if you buy this, bring your own donkey sauce because the ketchup that comes stock and standard has more work than it can handle and requires reinforcements.

Your results may vary, of course, since it's highly likely your visit may include a more lightly cooked patty, a little bigger schmear of ketchup and mustard, etc. Look, I just want you to be happy. I'm not saying you shouldn't take a chance in life. I'm just giving you the data and letting you do your own research with minimized risk.

This is the flagship burger! There's a whole dialogue about it in Pulp Fiction, and it should have been the champion! But the sauce was just too sweet, while the extra slice of bread buries what a 78 rpm record I received in the newspaper as an '80s child tells me is two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, special orders don't upset us!

You're all going to kill me for listing it this low, but nobody is angrier about it than I am. This might be my second-ever Big Mac, and while I'm a fan of special sauce, shack sauce, or whatever you In 'N' Out loyalists call thousand island dressing, the balance is all off here. This just tastes like a ketchup sandwich. Booo, Big Mac, boooo! You were the chosen one! You were supposed to bring balance to the Value Meal menu!

Even so, I didn't intend to place the Big Mac this low. Behind the classic hamburger? Ridiculous. And yet, my notes record appreciation and satisfaction throughout everything here except the Big Mac. Even the Double Hamburger was slotted ahead of it until the final buzzer. Maybe I just need to eat a dozen more of these to get an idea of them at their best, but it's the solid, if surprising, K in the special McDonald's burger edition of FMK.

See, this is what I'm talking about when I say the double hamburger had all the right elements but was out of balance. Since McDonald's patties are seldom very flavorful or even moist, each burger's addition requires a tandem upgrade to toppings and condiments. Classic hamburger doesn't require such careful handling. This is a pickup game of Yum — are you in or out?

You know, for a second, this could beat the cheeseburger. Simplicity is nice; beef and onions just vibing. It's like eating a double-sized White Castle slider, which is the original fast food burger chain, don't cha know? Now you do. That's right, White Castle precedes McDonald's by decades. Not so superior about every stoner's favorite midnight destination now, are you? White Castle invented this fast food burger game, though admittedly, McDonald's seems to have perfected it — the fast part, anyway, whatever you think of the food. Anyway, if you're a fan of one, here's your closest parallel to the other. Burger buddies!

Man, oh man, that tastes like nostalgia, except these days, I like onions. It all comes together real nice, even as you have to marvel how everything is the slightly wrong texture of chewy. That's McDonald's, baby. This is what most of the '80s was like: finely honed, reliably consistent, deeply satisfying mediocrity. I've missed it. This is the taste of a hundred birthday parties. Take me to a roller rink after this, and I'll be lost in time.

I really liked the regular hamburger, but it's undeniable that the cheese immediately adds a whole other element across each taste. Where the hamburger's ingredients shine through like a simple Ramones song, the cheeseburger brings it all together a little more layered, like a cover of a Ramones song by some other band that doesn't go as hard but actually studied finger-picking. This metaphor is collapsing; let's move on to more complex constructions.

If you don't get it because it's great or because it's arguably easier on your cholesterol levels than the double cheeseburger, do it for me, your internet buddy, and the innocent child I used to be. Take us back to those halcyon days with your next order. Thank you, and I'll see you in the ballpit.

I can't lie; I wanted to put the regular cheeseburger above this, but I recognize the pull of childhood Happy Meal memories after swim lessons. This is the hungry man's edition. God, my arteries must be hard as rocks after a month of McDonald's. I'm going to rank the best bowls at Just Salad after this just to balance what nature doth protest.

Till then, hooray for more beef and cheese! I'm enjoying my journey through the McDonald's burger menu, and this double cheeseburger proves my point about the double hamburger: Moisture and fat must come from somewhere if the beef does not supply it. But what's baffling here is that the Double Cheeseburger doesn't come in ahead of the McDouble! Turns out there's a limit to the effects of adding toppings. Nature's burgers exist in a delicate balance — one that modern technology dares to defy through reckless experimentation.

These McDoubles are great! They're just a double cheeseburger but with a single slice of cheese, yet for some reason, I like them more. Maybe the balance is better, with the beef prevailing over the cheese. Didn't I just cheer for more cheese? Yes, but officially, it's because you essentially get the same experience as a double cheeseburger (and perhaps even one where the beef sings lead vocals) for a buck less. With the McDouble, we are once again, and perhaps forever, shattering our own rule about more meat and cheese, equaling an automatic boost!

My stars and garters, you learn so much about yourself on a voyage of discovery, like eating more burgers in a short span than can possibly be healthy for a human being. Is a dozen burgers more than I should be eating? Please don't tell me the answer. I want to continue living deliciously.

Curiously, I think the standard Quarter Pounder With Cheese, which I ate at the same time, is better even though I'm a stickler for all three of these Deluxe ingredients: tomato, lettuce, and mayo.

Absent juiciness, there's not a lot of point to the lettuce and tomato setting off the burger. Better to just let it mingle with all the other savory ingredients. These veggies are a distraction, and about half the time in this burger adventure, you just want to let the patty sing. See also: Hamburger, McDonald's Classic Burger, The. And don't do anything stupid like burying the patties in bread so they have no taste at all. Honestly, Big Mac, what were you McThinking?

If you're looking for the Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese Deluxe, I'm placing it right here, ahead of the standard in good faith. I didn't order it because it's essentially the same burger as this one, but gasp: what if it counter-weighted the deluxe ingredients better in two juicy, real all-beef patties? I might have to go back on my own dime to see if it shouldn't come in ahead of our next entrant. None of this explains why it's not called a Half Pounder.

I make a lot of jokes at McDonald's expense because humor's my weapon of choice for mentally hurtling my psyche through the existential horrors of the 21st century, but one thing you have to give the kings of capitalism: they mince a great onion. A dice like this? Perfection and it shows up prominently in the Bacon McDouble, where beef and pork fats mingle in just the right balance of ketchup. I'm not one of those souls who thinks everything gets improved by adding bacon, but cured pork belly is certainly the cheat code for happiness in a great many savory dishes. Here, it does some of the work that, again, in a homemade burger, you'd probably enjoy via the patty itself: fat, protein, and chewiness.

I also have to give it up to McDonald's to improve the quality of its bacon. It's still thin-sliced, and there's nothing wrong with the minimum effective dose to upgrade a sandwich, but I distinctly remember it used to be paper-thin, brittle, and almost woody compared to the bacon axis from crispy to the true religion of slightly chewy.

This is yet another burger where I want to believe there's mustard but have to look it up to prove it. (There is!) Maybe the pickles' vinegar just cuts that perfectly through the fat and protein and bread. Who can ever know? Certainly not me, by looking on the internet so you don't have to!

This is close enough in form and function to the Deluxe version that I'm comfortable triangulating the Double Quarter Pounder With Cheese But Not Bacon Deluxe to the middle spot, more desirable than the Quarter Pounder With Cheese Deluxe but less so than this. The Bacon Quarter Pounder With Cheese would also go right behind this burger. There are a lot of permutations to these sandwiches!

Spotting the ol' DBQPWC here a couple of points because mine was charred to heck, but they're not usually like that. It's awesome and comes together well. It's a little dry (again: charred) and lacks a big mayo smear like the deluxe, but I also think it's rich enough that mayo might kill it. Maybe it would really shimmer with barbecue. It's becoming a pretty tight heat here between the Quarter Pounder family and the McDoubles, two households both alike in dignity and respect, amid fair McDonaldland where we lay our scene. Is it called McDonaldland? And more pressingly, does that mean Mayor McCheese is the Prince? Does that make Grimace Mercutio? I might have really followed this idle Romeo & Juliet allusion too deeply. Anyway, Birdie is Juliet, and if I tell you who Ronald is, McDonald's lawyers will sue, so let's move on.

Technically, it's a double-cheese / triple-burger, which I think makes it even more technically a Double McDouble? Or a Compound McDouble? It is all a question for a better ontological philosopher than I, but who's complaining about the classification process when it's this tasty?

The triple cheeseburger is a great buy that lands juicy and delicious on my plate, and I am welcome to come back for seconds or triples anytime it McWants. Personally, I think it lands better than three slices of cheese, but it probably depends on how melty they'd get. This way ensures a greater meltiness and, therefore, as we see in the enclosed McDonald's Satiety Curve in the index to this article, a higher yield per tastebud investment. I know the answer ought to be Big Mac, but I think a McDonald's Triple Cheeseburger is the real response to "What's the most American burger?" Excess is carefully administered to profit; that's the way in the U.S. of A!

Even lukewarm, that hits. The cheese and condiments foil really well. For some reason, the fattiness of the cheese does what the dryish burger does not. Look, you can't take any given McBurger on its own because I've been given stale and fresh buns in the same order that presumably came from the same bag, and some patties are just going to get overcooked. You have to have a mustard seed of faith that they'd all compete well in their best versions and judge the combinations. Actually, several mustard seeds because that condiment really gives this a nice flourish.

All of which is to say I love Quarter Pounders now. They are the best. And astonishingly, the standard edition beats all the bacon-loaded, doubled-up, and deluxe editions of itself. The lesson today is that simplicity is often better than baroque burger craft, and the main product McDonald's sells is reliability. Count on the Quarter Pounder With Cheese to satisfy because I have a new and great affection for it. The Big Mac is no longer royale avec fromage. Long live the Quarter Pounder.

I've eaten some pretty great burgers on behalf of Tasting Table (or just lining up at Raoul's on my own to prove the patty there lives up to the hype, even if the pepper steak does not). This site even flew me to Las Vegas to eat Peter Luger's and then grill (pun intended) its VP about the two things that make that steakhouse burger better than yours. Lest you think I'm noshing on too high a plane to judge fast food burgers, I'm also your agent in the field for Smashburger and Shake Shack. Heck, I'll even happily dig into why some vegan burgers are better than others. Revisiting McDonald's with an open mind was an irresistible assignment to a guy who's barely been in one since the '00s.