Take a decommissioned antique gas station, add deeply colored paint and a trip to Restoration Hardware, several rustic wooden tables and benches, and an enormous collection of taps siphoning the more venerable and exciting American microbrews—and you have a recipe for guaranteed success. But then Petrol Station really shoots the moon by making a best-in-class burger, and even giving more thought than is usual to the coffee. (Wine is still relegated to the back of the bus—why have it at all, then?) The vibe is way less focus-group deliberate than it is simply conceived of good taste and an obsession with beer. Although there are few kids here, they do get their own menu—including a scaled-down version of the burger, which is a popular option among adults with petite appetites.

The full-sized version is sloppy, huge, and delicious, with a glossy bun whose eggy fluffiness supports a half-pound Angus patty that, when cooked medium and below, is a celebration of grain-fed beefiness. There’s also a burger with a whisper of lamb that needs a rare to medium-rare order to really show itself (and its tzatziki, cucumber, and tomato will convince you it’s really just a gorgeous gyro on a bun). “The Rancor,” with a near-vinyl layer of cheese, thick bacon, and fried egg, delivers a wallop directly to the brain’s pleasure center. Fries have that wonderful earthy ugliness of real, actual potato—they’re killer with bacon crumbles and feta cheese. It’s all ample support for a beer education.