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Pictured above, soaking through its wax-paper wrapping, maybe even through your computer screen, is the Animal, the greatest of the many culinary gifts Big V's Burger Joint brought us during its all-too-brief life.

Yes, it has three hamburger patties. It also has bacon -- a lot of it -- onions, roasted jalapeños, cheese and barbecue sauce. Usually, I eat the whole thing and then nothing else for at least 18 hours. Today, aware that tomorrow is the one day of the year when I can undertake this kind of gorging without guilt, I ate only 80% of it, give or take a bite.

As I reported on Monday, Big V's will close for good after service this Saturday, which means you're running out of time to enjoy your final -- or your first and final -- Animal. Yes, it weighs a ton. No, it doesn't have many redeeming qualities, health-wise, except that you won't, y'know, starve. But, my God, does it taste good. The tangy-sweet barbecue sauce. The jalapeños' kick. And all that meat.

I told myself today's would be my last. We'll see.

-Ian Froeb

The Burger Chronicles is an occasional feature that chronicles burgers.

We cheated, stopping by O'Connell's Pub the day after St. Patrick's Day. I doubt we were alone. Driving there, we passed a small group walking along Kingshighway all decked out in green and gold, wearing beads around their necks and cheap, plastic leprechaun hats on their heads. Unless, of course, they were only then straggling home from the previous day's revelry.

I like that the burgers at O'Connell's come with nothing but one fat pickle, one thick onion slice and, if you want it, cheese. It's a primal burger, all acrid charbroiled scorch and blood-red savor. Every time I order cheese, and every time I think, "What's the point?" This is the apotheosis of ground beef and flame, not something to be topped or stacked or dressed, however simply.

I like also that the burgers come with a steak knife, the implication being that a burger this large you must cut to pieces. But, really, nine ounces is downright average these supersized days, and even cooked medium-rare, it holds together well. The steak knife is for show. Besides, burgers are meant to be handled; they're designed to stain. Cutting them up for your own convenience? That would be cheating.

-Ian Froeb

The Burger Chronicles is an occasional feature that chronicles burgers.

Is there anything so beautiful as a slice of half-melted American cheese draped like luminescent yellow velvet atop a freshly grilled burger? A newborn, maybe -- but a newborn eventually will cry and cry, while a burger from Blueberry Hill has never made anyone bawl. Except, of course, whoever preps Blueberry Hill's onions: a great pile of thick, crisp slices came with my burger, a pile that would intimidate even the most devoted onion lover. Multiply that pile by the hundreds or billions of burgers Blueberry Hill serves each day and even you might start to tear up.

It's no surprise Blueberry Hill is so popular. This is the quintessential cookout burger, tasting of char and beef and the mineral sweat of a St. Louis summer. Greasy, though. There's nothing you can do to keep the bottom half of the roll from dissolving in your hands. Don't cry. Do what I do. Order it with American cheese. Sure, it's a "cheese food." It's also resilient enough to build your spaceship out of. Just stick the condiments and the top half of the roll below your burger and use the cheese as the new top. Beautiful.

-Ian Froeb