8 Fast Food Bacon Cheeseburgers, Ranked Worst To Best

There is no cuisine quite as stereotypically American as the bacon cheeseburger — it may even be more American than apple pie or Southern-style fried chicken. It has everything we tend to eat here in the States. Not just one but two different kinds of meat. Check. Gooey cheese (obviously of the American variety). Check. Versatility and a broad range of toppings. Check. And best of all, it's served up in a convenient handheld format that can be scooped up from a drive-thru in mere minutes.

Bacon cheeseburgers have been around since at least 1963 – the greasy invention is often credited to A&W franchisee Dale Mulder. Regardless of who invented it, since the '60s, plenty of other restaurants and fast-food giants have sunk their teeth into the idea. To be fair, for any spot that was already slinging fan-favorite cheeseburgers, it was easy enough to source some bacon and hop on the trend. But of these endless renditions and remakes of the same three-part burger build, which is actually the best? That's the question we set out to answer today.

I sampled eight fast-food bacon cheeseburgers from all the usual suspects — Five Guys, McDonald's, Wendy's, Shake Shack, etc. — ranking them predominantly based on their core components. Success relies upon the use of fresh and quality beef patties blanketed in cheese, crispy and flavorful bacon, and a fluffy, supportive bun. Everything else (aka garnishes and condiments) was simply gravy — extras that exist only to bolster the essentials. Time to unwrap the truth about one of America's favorite cheesy, guilty pleasures.

Sonic's SuperSonic Bacon Double Cheeseburger had me fooled — looks can be deceiving like that. It appears to be very friendly, stacked to the heavens with two 100% pure seasoned beef patties, each with its own designated slice of American cheese. Bacon slices, lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise also join the party, all sitting between two toasty buns.

Sounds pretty good, right? I thought so too. However, upon first bite, its mediocrity traveled to my taste buds faster than the speed of sound. The problem has everything to do with the patties — what should be a burger's most well-thought-out and well-executed feature. Once you break through the somewhat browned exterior, the meat is mushy on the inside, like a pre-cooked frozen patty that wasn't reheated on the grill for long enough (which could very well be the case here). To make matters worse, it's also nearly flavorless — I think it was "seasoned" with water, because I didn't pick up on any stimulating spices.

Stringy and flimsy, the bacon also seemed undercooked. And with two botched proteins, the other toppings had no chance of making up any ground. I would venture to guess that the entire sandwich was simply cooked and thrown together in a hurry. I'm not sure why, since I was the only one in the drive-thru. However, the fact of the matter remains that one of the biggest burgers in the taste test (neck and neck with Wendy's Baconator) was also the biggest letdown. It had me wishing I had opted for one of the chain's new Sonic Smasher burgers instead.

Back in its heyday, McDonald's Quarter Pounder was a fast-food marvel. At that time, circa the 1970s, the weighty burger completely eclipsed the other offerings found at the Golden Arches, offering a massive step-up in size and satiation. In more recent years, however, it seems to have fallen from grace.

The Quarter Pounder's 100% fresh beef patty doesn't seem quite as big as I remember, even though it's supposedly gotten slightly larger over the last 10 years, gaining an extra 0.25 ounces of uncooked weight in 2015. It appeared parched and squished, positioned underneath the sesame seed bun, and the taste followed suit. Bacon was plentiful — I counted four decently sized slices in total — but it was chewy and also dried out, as though it had been zapped in the microwave.

It didn't help that the American cheese slice didn't melt fully onto the meat, and the toppings of choice were uninspired. A combination of ketchup, mustard, pickles, and slivered onions, the toppings here are identical to what's found on the chain's inferior hamburgers and cheeseburgers. Don't you think a more gourmet burger calls for more gourmet garnishes? I mean, throw on some lettuce and tomato to give it a pop of freshness. Or give it a special sauce like the one made specially for the iconic Big Mac. Anything to liven it up and give it an advantage over other fast-food burgers that match it in size.

It's big. It's bacon-y. But it's not the king of bacon cheeseburgers. The Bacon King has been around since 2016, Burger King's crafty response to the Wendy's Baconator, which was released 9 years prior. Its claim to fame is its six slices of thick-cut bacon (I counted, and I did in fact receive six slices on my own Bacon King, although they were more like half-slices), and it stands out on the BK menu as one of the only larger burgers to include bacon at all. The Whopper doesn't often come equipped with this greasy add-on — it doesn't even have cheese for that matter, completely eliminating it from this taste test.

The Bacon King's generous portion of bacon slices gives it a rich and smoky flavor — especially because the bacon is extra fatty (a positive in my eyes). But the two beef ¼-pound beef patties were alternatively blah, exhibiting little of that promised flame-grilled flavor. So it's hearty and big (more wide than tall), but at the same time, it's all steak and no sizzle. With just ketchup, mayonnaise, and American cheese to enhance the flavor, it lands on the taste buds with a thud. Crunchy lettuce or zesty pickles would have been appreciated to counteract some of the heavy beef and pork.

I wouldn't say that Burger King royally screwed up this double-meat fast-food delicacy — the Bacon King's build and flavor trump the burgers found at McDonald's and Sonic. But it still has some kinks to work out.

This burger is a mouthful in every sense of the word. It was both intimidating to utter at the drive-thru speaker and to eat. Dairy Queen has been slinging its Signature Stackburgers since 2022, and I think it's on to something with this new(ish) food line. Currently, five different stackburger options sit on the menu, including a Bacon Cheese Deluxe. It comes with dual beef patties, adding up to ⅓ pounds of meat and is stacked with nearly every basic burger accompaniment you can think of. Applewood smoked bacon is just the beginning. The chain also throws on lettuce, tomato, onions, pickles, ketchup, mayonnaise, and both sharp American and white cheddar cheese slices. It delivers a surprising amount of satisfaction and complexity, and with a fluffed-up bun, it looks just like a Krabby Patty — wouldn't you have just killed to get your hands on one of those?

The two patties are cooked well-done but retain their juiciness and light taste of salt and pepper. Gooey cheese covers everything, as well as a generous glob of mayo. The veggies are crisp, and plenty of flavor comes from the pickles and potent onions. The bacon strips also hold their own with a smoky, fireside savor; though, with everything else going on, it's difficult to even notice them in most bites.

This burger definitely leans topping-heavy, at times overpowering the meat. But all things considered, for an ice cream shop cheeseburger, it's not bad at all. Well done, Dairy Queen, well done.

Wendy's has "baconated" many of the items on its menu – in Wendy's speak, that means to "make everything better." But the thing that started it all was the original Baconator burger. It showed up unannounced and fully loaded in 2007 and has never had the chance to utter the words "I'll be back," because it's stuck around ever since.

You could spot a Baconator from a mile away, not only because of the sheer size of it but also thanks to its telltale squared-off burger patties. They are, of course, fresh, never frozen, and together provide a half pound of meat. Big, juicy, and smothered in melty American cheese, these patties garner no complaints from me. But what about the centerpiece of the cheeseburger, the Applewood smoked bacon? Every single one of my six slices (half-slices) appeared to be burnt to a crisp. For a minute, I thought this may have had something to do with the chain's current Wednesday promotions and its "Wednesday" tie-in Meal of Misfortune — blackened bacon fits the bill, doesn't it? But whether it was intentional or a kitchen mishap, the bacon somehow still tastes rich and savory, even after being scorched.

More condiments would have been appreciated. I was only given a few small squirts of both Heinz ketchup and Heinz mayonnaise, leaving it just the slightest bit dry and bland. Overall, though, when you're looking for an extra filling and extra meaty cheeseburger, the Baconator will never let you down. It calls out to us all, "Come with me if you want to EAT!"

Clearly, I don't eat at Shake Shack enough, because I didn't realize that the chain's bacon cheeseburger doesn't automatically come equipped with toppings like its coveted ShackBurger does. So I ended up with a very nuts-and-bolts sandwich of just one Angus beef patty, American cheese, and applewood smoked bacon on a toasted potato bun.

However, even with just meats and cheese and no frills, it's better than most. There's just something about the smash cooking style that elevates burgers. The technique leaves Shake Shack's patties with a craveable crisp around the fringes and extra bursts of umami throughout. My only note is that it seems to have much less meat than the patties found at other chains — even though it claims to be a standard 4 ounces or a quarter pound before cooking. Two long bacon slices also join the party, and even though they're not especially crackly or flavor-packed, they're obviously of quality. Throw everything on a lightly sweet and buttery potato bun, and I was a happy camper. (Shake Shack scored high on our fast-food cheeseburger ranking, too.)

Just to be clear, you can add toppings to the bacon cheeseburger many times at no extra cost (only items like avocado or crispy onions are an upcharge). Imagine how good this handheld could taste when loaded up with some flavor enhancers like lettuce, tomato, pickles, and a liberal glob of tangy Shacksauce.

The ButterBurgers at Culver's are well-thought-out sandwiches. Three different cuts of prized beef come together to form the patties, including sirloin, chuck, and plate. They're also fresh, never frozen, and then pressed and seared on the grill in smashburger fashion. The result is a slab of meat that tastes closer to ground steak than standard ground beef, and the burgers impressed me even more than Shake Shack's similar patty formula.

The single patty on my bacon deluxe burger was dripping in palatability and lightly charred flavor. The Wisconsin cheese slice is oddly placed underneath the beef, but that didn't make it any less enjoyable. It's hard to tell, but the sandwich is also packed with plenty of other toppings — they're just hiding underneath the meat and cheese. You have a couple of pickles and raw onions for flair. You have some lettuce and tomato slices for vibrancy. You have mayo for creaminess. You have two lengthy strips of bacon for some sizzle and smokiness. And that's not all. The pièce de résistance is the butter-slathered kaiser bun – where Culver's burgers get their name and a great deal of their appeal (as if the rest wasn't enough to make it pop).

The bacon deluxe ButterBurger is a Midwestern labor of love that pays off. It's a well-made and well-rounded burger. I think next time I may order a double instead of a single, just to experience even more of that toothsome beef. But either way, you can't go wrong with this Culver's creation.

Immediately yes. Five Guys shares a similar approach to both Shake Shack and Culver's when it comes to its burgers, but it does it even better. The chain is confident enough in the natural taste of its ground chuck patties (every Five Guys burger has an 80/20 ratio of lean beef to fat) that it doesn't even season them. It lets the meat itself do the talking, as well as its flat-top grill smash cooking method that yields both juiciness and crispy edges.

What I really want to talk about, though, is the applewood-smoked bacon. I wish bacon always tasted this good. It adds a crackle to every single bite and nearly melts in your mouth with the perfect amount of fat — I think the ratio is closer to 50/50 meat to fat, maybe even more fat, and that's exactly how I like it. It's not just good fast-food bacon; it's good bacon by any benchmark. American-style cheese is a given for any Five Guys cheeseburger, as well as a sesame seed bun. Then the chain lets you DIY your way to the burger of your dreams with 15 different topping options. I selected a very simple and customary combination of lettuce, tomatoes, and mayonnaise. It complemented the beef and bacon beautifully — although I think any combo of toppings would have done the same.

You do pay a premium for a Five Guys burger — even for a "little" burger that includes just one patty, but which is anything but little — which makes this option more pricey than the others on this list. However, every single cent is justified. This is the pinnacle of a bacon cheeseburger.

All fast-food cheeseburgers come out confident, promising large amounts of fresh, never-frozen beef, big flavor, and heaps of bacon. But not all chains are able to put their burger where their mouth is. The beef could be top-grade, but when it's mishandled, it has no chance of making a good impression. Seasonings and cooking methods are so important, too, and it became very obvious that I favored the smash technique used by chains like Five Guys, Shake Shack, and Culver's.

As for the bacon, it was all about quality over quantity. Five Guys didn't toss on an overload of bacon but delivered the only strips that blew me away with an immense amount of savor and an elite crispy texture. Cheese was fairly standard across the board, as long as it melted well — McDonald's Quarter Pounder was the only one that struggled in this area. I liked a nice balance of toppings, fresh ones like lettuce mixed with some zing from pickles or onions, and a nice spread of either mayo or ketchup. But at the same time, the Shake Shack burger proved that when you focus on fundamentals, you can still make a great product even without auxiliary toppings.