Editor's Note: Please welcome our newest contributor, Will Gordon, best known for his Serious Eats: Drinks column "Drinking the Bottom Shelf" and now making his foray into the world of Boston burgers.

[Photographs: Will Gordon]

For all of my beloved homeland's conviction that it is the most universally significant state in this or any other union, Massachusetts is suspiciously bereft of proper celebrities. Enough famous people reside in or swing through the Bay State to keep the local gossip industry afloat—we can always count on Tom Brady or Matt Damon to walk a puppy or kiss a pretty lady just in the nick of time—but barely.

Rather than anoint (or attract) human stars, the good and cranky people of Massachusetts foist our love upon—and draw our identity from—institutions. These tend to be colleges, sports teams, and furniture stores; hospitals, families, and roadside roast beeferies are also eligible for idolatry.

This local renown has the potential to spread if an institution cuddles up to the right cohort of future world-dominators during their formative years: Massachusetts colleges ingest four billion students a year, and upon disgorgement, many of the graduates fill influential media jobs. This is why Boston dominates every list of "America's 100 Best Places to Binge Drink/Wear Sweatclothing in Unsweaty Settings/Buy Used Textbooks/Be Bisexual for Six Weeks/Play Video Games/Stage Dramatic Public Breakups/Discover Thai Food/Sleep."

This is also why Charlie's Kitchen in Harvard Square is correct in calling its double cheeseburger "famous." Charlie's has been around since 1951, and scads of historically significant people have walked by in burger-eating frames of mind. I bet Obama's had one of Charlie's double cheeseburgers, and all manner of Afflecks, Kennedys, and Wahlbergs are liable to have as well, along with tons of big-mouthed magazine editors and food bloggers. This is indeed one very well known burger. It is not, however, a very well made one.

This burger's greatest strength is also its undoing: It's not economically feasible for a full-service restaurant to sell a good double cheeseburger and fries for $5.50 in a high-rent district like Harvard Square. Let's start from the top and the bottom: The sesame seed bun is crunchy on the outside and has the texture of matted-down cotton candy within. I grab my burgers affectionately but firmly, to convey that I (potentially) love them, but also that I mean serious business. I trust you do the same and therefore know that this approach will often leave temporary finger-divots in the bun. At Charlie's the divots don't bounce back. That's tough in an untoasted bun.

But, bad bun aside, this is a $5.50 double cheeseburger with fries. So maybe you could smuggle in your own bun—if your server notices, mumble something about gluten or religion or sesame. The staff is unfailingly polite but too busy to pay much mind beyond the basics, so it shouldn't be a problem. Bun solved, and it's on to the beef and cheese.

Though it goes against the Glutton's Creed, I don't think a double cheeseburger is always superior to a single. If you can't spare enough beef to make two bun-width patties of sufficient thickness, you're better off making a single. The patties on Charlie's double are about three ounces each, so to cover the bun they're necessarily pencil-thin. This leaves the cook with very little margin for error, and Charlie's rarely operates within that margin. You usually end up with two rubbery gray interiors dominated by four ashy sides, with the only textural solace coming from the extra slice of white American cheese mandated by the doubling.

I know char-chasers value a thin patty's ability to tweak the crust-to-guts ratio in their favor, but it doesn't work here. Charlie's servers don't offer you any say in your burger's degree of doneness, and I respect their honesty. The beef itself is essentially flavorless. I don't expect the highest quality cow in my $5.50 double cheeseburger, but there's no excuse for not cheating a little life into things with salt and pepper at the very least. Any potential juiciness gets cooked out along the way, so no help there, either.

The fries come with the double cheeseburger and they don't punch you in the face or insult your mother—what else do you want? More than you get. They're often cold and never crisp, though curiously nonsoggy for cold, limp fries. In fact, there's no evidence that they're even fried at all.

Still, Charlie's Kitchen has a lot going for it. It has three distinct seating areas: an outside beer garden, a diner-vibed first floor, and a dark and punky upstairs featuring a jukebox full of things you're not cool enough to pick out on your own but will enjoy when one of the ever-present irregulars does. The beer list is vast and cheap, and the drinks are strong.

If you find yourself at Charlie's (and you should) and in the mood for a burger, you can mitigate some of the base model's flaws by ponying up a few extra bucks for after-market parts. The bison burger ($10) was downright good. The meat was well-seasoned and just gamy enough, and I was actually disappointed that in default mode it comes buried under bacon and mushrooms.

The double guacamole cheeseburger ($9) is the original plus a couple big dollops of thin guac that doesn't taste like much but does provide some welcome mushiness to the middle of your burger.

This review came out much harsher than I'd intended. Charlie's Kitchen the local institution is great; Charlie's Kitchen the hamburger destination is not, and this isn't running in a blog called, "A Local Institution (With Good Beer and Music) Today." I think you should go to Charlie's the first chance you get, but I don't think you should order the double cheeseburger.