One of the few things about the States I missed in my time overseas was a good cheeseburger. Thanks probably to the global fast-food chains, hamburgers are on the cheap-eats menu everywhere, at least in the English-speaking world, but perhaps also because of the global fast-food chains, something gets lost in the translation.
I ate plenty of burgers in New Zealand and Australia, and not one left me satisfied. There was a variety of reasons, usually starting with the meat - it seemed the ground beef was more often than not cut with with soy protein or some such thing to bulk it up. Even if the meat was right, there was always something off, such as the sweet-rather-than-salty ketchup Down Under. Apparently the just-right combination of a ground beef patty with cheese melted into its very essence topped with a lightly grilled or toasted bun and accesorized with some mix of toppings, just isn't one easily hit on outside the States.
(I did find one great burger during the 15 months we spent overseas. It was in north Thailand, of all places, at a little burger counter opened by an American Vietnam vet.)

I've had a chance to catch up on my burger shortage. In Atlanta I nearly had an overdose. The "Coronary Bypass" at the Vortex wasn't even close to the biggest or best burger I ate last week.

The Ghetto Burger at Ann's Snack Bar is not only the largest single object of ground beef I have ever eaten. It's more than a burger, it's an experience.
For one thing, you can't just waltz up and expect to grab a burger. Ann, who has been running the Snack Bar for about 35 years, serves the people sitting at the nine stools inside. If you get there when the stools are full, as I'm sure they always are, you wait until there's a space. We arrived at 3 p.m. There were about eight people ahead of us waiting to get inside. We finally made it to one of the coveted stools around 4:15.
(As the lady waiting next to us said when a couple bailed after waiting about 15 minutes: "You got to want it.")
Once we took our seats, it was another 45-minute wait for the burgers. This wasn't due to lack of service, it was because the burgers were made to with care. Patties at least two inches thick covered the entire grill. Onions were grilled, buns were toasted, bacon was deep-fried (I knew I would love the finished product as soon as I saw the raw bacon loaded into a fry basket).
When we finally were handed our Ghetto Burgers, we had in front of us a double-cheeseburger (each two-inch think patty must have weighed at least three-quarters of a pound) topped with bacon, onion, lettuce and, wonderfully, chili.

I finished the burger. My body complained for the rest of the day. It was totally worth it.

(And I'm not the only one who thinks so.)