This rough-and-ready dive has achieved almost legendary status among fans of greasy spoon burgers and uncomfortable lines. For most people it requires a trek through some of the city’s less scenic spaces. Parking is a royal pain and the indoor space seems designed to torture the few who managed to elbow their way through.

But the burgers…oh, the burgers. Wingfield’s cooks have apparently never, ever cleaned the grill. Well, they must certainly have scraped at it on occasion, but decades of meat and grease and residual flavors burn into every new burger they fry up. And the surface is seasoned so thoroughly that any new juices seem to reverse themselves, flowing back into the patty or wrapping around it like a bittersweet, meaty and peppered shield. The result: an intensely flavored char and fatty mouthfeel that makes even the cheapest mound of ground beef resemble blackened Wagyu.

There’s no concession to form or beauty here. Burgers fall as they may, each distinct in shape and size, often spilling out over the edge of the bun. Like we said: rough and ready. Best to bring plenty of napkins, for if you wait to reach home the overstressed bun will disintegrate.