Few restaurants in Chicago, to my knowledge, command as much intensity of emotion as that on an otherwise unassuming corner of Belmont Avenue in Avondale. The fans and even those who spew venom made the hajj to the West Side and endured the interminable waits for a table. From the city that waxed encased meats in to an act of dining and tourism and one, a restaurant with so much buzz around one item is nothing new. We’ve done dogs. Kuma’s Corner answers with burgers.

I was among the detractors as we entered who thought a two hour wait for hamburger was insufferable and downright silly. Especially since Kuma’s Corner is but a stone’s throw from a Burger King. The irony of their apparent arrogant perversion of “fast food” was on full display as soon as we were stopped upon entry. The two hours actually moved much quicker, and in reality was probably 45 minutes, but I am told by loyal fans that this is a bit of an anomaly. (Don’t say I didn’t warn you.)

So, we weaseled our way through the walk-in-closet sized restaurant and headed to make our presence known to the barkeep. And, this, is the first thing I noticed:

Yes, those taps say “Buffalo Trace”, “Jack Daniels”, and “Woodford Reserve” as is bourbon on tap. Why? I have no clue, because as best I could tell, the bourbon tasted the same, and worked about well as regular bottled stuff. I’d like to think that we utilize technology and gadgetry to make things taste better/work better, but it doesn’t appear either was the case. It was largely an aesthetic device, sucker though I am for such things.

Oddly, most of the beers were bottled. Happily, most of the rich selection is from the Midwest—culling intrepid selections from Indiana, Ohio, Michigan, and Illinois. The few I tried were complicated, nuanced, and layered with comfortable tastes to create something entirely new and still somewhat awkward.

So, with death metal blaring, we pondered the menu. One glance at the menu, with burgers named after metal acts including the Mastadon, Iron Maiden, and Slayer, you realize (in case you weren’t sure) this is a serious burger joint—and as the music pounds overhead and manga blasts from the flat screen TV over the bar—you realize this is not a place to shoot the breeze with your pals. It is the place to catch your pals covered in barbecue sauce and loving every minute of it.

I do not think I’ve ever had, nor ever will have, as delicious a hamburger as I had at Kuma’s Corner. I ordered the Plague Bringer: Roasted Garlic Mayo, Tortilla Strips, Hot Sauce, Fresh Garlic, Pepper Jack Cheese, and Sliced Jalapenos on a homemade Pretzel Roll. Three of us split a heaping order of Kuma’s waffle cut fries covered in cheese and pulled pork.

Yes, all rather unapologetically carnivorous in a post-PETA world. But, unapologetic is the shtick at Kuma’s Corner—for the wait, the piercing music, and ultimately, the narrow menu—which is neither grounded in health or morality. No matter—for everyone who rolls their eyes, there are plenty more who appreciate the simplicity and deliciousness of ground beef, a salty sweet pretzel roll, and crispy waffle cut french fries. This isn’t Charlie Trotter’s after all, and no one in the Chicago apartment-sized kitchen is claiming to be a gourmand.

The taunt at the beginning was that I would not be able to finish my burger. This proved to be true—for me, and most, save the bulky guy at the bar on a date with his Blackberry as much as a grinning girl.

2 hours and $12 for a burger? Seems crazy, yes? Well, I thought so, until the kitchen at Kuma’s Corner promptly replied with a hot steaming plate of “oh no!”. I left contrite, stuffed, and with horrendously offensive breath, a convert among the cynics. This is not an everyday sustenance kind-of-place, but hey, when you’re ready to seriously chow, a distinctive and delicious choice.