Hamburgers, how I love you. I'm a fool for the minis at Cascadia (2328 First Ave, 448-8884; miniburger, $2, plus glass of bubbly, $6, equals the most decadent-feeling happy hour known to man—go there now). I am also obsessed with the Kobe beef burger ($14.95, available only at lunch) at the Oceanaire Seafood Room (1700 Seventh Ave, 267-2277). It's served so beautifully pink and rare, it satisfies the bloodthirsty cavelady carnivore in me and is topped with what are essentially crispy fried red-onion rings and blue cheese. It's the best fancy burger in town.

But on the reals, my heart belongs to a cheap little fella known as Whopper Jr. Is that not the cutest name you've ever heard? Thanks to the geniuses behind the Burger King Value Menu, Junior and his flame-broiled hotness can be had for a mere $1 every day. The signature flame-broiled beef patty and its strange flavorful glory aside, the real genius of the Whopper Jr. lies in the toppings: lettuce, mayonnaise, ketchup, tomato, pickles, and onion. My beloved Junior is a textural dream and is crunchy, sweet, smoky, creamy, and tangy all at once. I bite him, he bites back (praise be, generous slices of raw onion). Ever since I was a little kid, I've tucked french fries into my hamburger, and the other day, as I was padding Junior up, I considered doing so with some of BK's new chicken fries. I didn't think it was possible for Junior to get any fucking better...