[Photographs: Todd Brock]

Ask one hundred Atlantans where to find the best burger in the city, and you're likely to hear the same names over and over. There's the biker bar with the 50-foot-tall skull over the front door. There's the 8-seat diner that the Wall Street Journal called the best in the US. There's the ultra-hip burger "boutique" with the TV-celebrichef-slash-molecular-gastronomist. Heck, someone's even bound to throw out the bison burger chain started by local icon Ted Turner. And you'll undoubtedly get a fair number of folks who absolutely swear by a divey little tavern in the trendy neighborhood of Virginia Highland. Welcome to George's Bar and Restaurant.

By all outward appearances, there's nothing remarkable about George's. Lots of neon signage promoting every beer brand under the sun. A sidewalk seating patio that's awesome for about eight months out of the year, but pretty worthless a few nights before Christmas Eve. A dark, cramped interior layout with the classically-dilapidated architecture of a 1960s-era corner watering hole. The night I was there, college football on the flat-screens and Team Trivia Night simply added to the nondescript, could-be-any-nameless-bar-on-the-planet vibe. Home of a rave-worthy burger? Really?

Yeah, really. George's is "famous" for "100% ground chuck, hand-pattied charbroiled burgers," according to the menu, "served on a lightly grilled whole-wheat bun with lettuce, tomato, and red onion, and a pickle spear." Choose between a 5-ounce or 8-ounce patty, and pick one of 12 burger varieties. Notable options include a Mexican Burger (guacamole, salsa, and shredded cheese), a Jalapeno Dijon Burger (jalapenos, jack cheese, and Dijon horseradish sauce), and a Lemon Pepper Burger, something I'm not sure I've ever seen before. Intrigued as I was, I opted for the one that's recommended most often, the Mushroom & Swiss Burger.

My burger didn't exactly fulfill the textbook definition of medium rare with a "warm, red center," but it was pleasantly pink and visibly juicy, which is what I was really aiming for all along. It was so juicy, in fact, that simply cutting the burger in half drenched the bottom bun to the point of saturation. This whole-wheat handle didn't make it to the last bite of burger, having disintegrated long before. I'd call the unsubstantial bun the weakest part of George's burgers.

Everything else was top-notch: super juicy and loosely-packed beef with tasty toppings. I was happy with my mushroom and Swiss selection, although that combo always sounds better than it ends up actually being for me. I like to describe it in musical terms. A mushroom and Swiss burger is like a bass solo: earthy, primal, something you feel in your lower register. It's totally cool and makes you bob your head up and down, but there are no high notes to make you play air guitar or throw up devil horns for. A mushroom and Swiss burger always leaves me wanting to hear some sweet Stratocaster licks or a few cymbal crashes to round things out, like you might get with bacon and American cheese. (That Lemon Pepper Burger suddenly sounds like it just might be the culinary equivalent of an Eddie Van Halen riff.)

Okay, musical analogies aside, let's talk sides. I ordered onion rings only because my brother chose fries, and I figured we could share for a taste of each. But by the time I finished taking pictures of my burger from every angle, I looked over to see that his basket of a Buffalo Bleu Burger and fries was empty. "The fries were awesome. Best part of the whole thing," he helpfully told me. Hmph.

The rings, by contrast, were just so-so. I find onion rings to be a matter of intensely personal taste. I happen to like mine extraordinarily crunchy, so they shatter on impact. I like the onion inside to be thick and still have some crunch, and I automatically deduct points when I can't bite cleanly through and end up pulling the onion out of the ring, leaving behind a hollow skin of breading. I deducted a lot of points that night.

The burger is the star, and rightfully so. It's definitely worthy of being a part of the best-burger-in-Atlanta conversation, and I'll no doubt be back to George's. I'm thinking the Lemon Pepper Burger with fries all to myself. And I'm thinking it'll be music to my ears.

About the Author: Todd Brock lives the glamorous life of a stay-at-home freelance writer in the suburbs of Atlanta. Besides being paid to eat cheeseburgers, he's written and produced over 1,000 hours of television and recently penned Building Chicken Coops for Dummies. When he grows up, he wants to be either the starting quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys or the drummer for Hootie & the Blowfish. Or both.