Go ahead, salivate. That’s the carnivore’s natural response to my list of the top 10 burgers in London. But, please, if my voluptuous burger snaps lead you to envy my adventures as a burger taster, think again.

Finding consistently great burger spots in London has proven to be a punishing quest. The “eureka!” moments are few; the “you’re kidding!” failures, many. All too often the beef is ground too finely, seasoned too early, packed too tightly or cooked too long. British chefs both famous and obscure mix egg and bread crumbs into their patties, yielding mealy or mushy mounds. Come on guys, this is how you prepare meatball and meatloaf sandwiches, not burgers.

My frustration inspired me to curate my own London burger show, inviting accomplished chefs from the UK and abroad to create exceptional burgers for my BurgerMonday spop-up dinners.

Others are getting the message, too. The quality of the burgers on this London top 10 list is steadily improving, so much so that I would not regard any restaurant’s ranking as secure. There are several true beauties here but none qualifies as an “end of ” burger, as in “end of story” – “it can’t get better”.  Sorry, it can get better and it will get better. London is only at the “beginning of” stage when it comes to high-impact burgers.

As much as burgers may vary according to genre, composition, price, presentation and personal preferences the best ones are invariably untidy, implosive handfuls you shouldn’t eat without a stack of paper napkins – or a duvet-sized cloth one – at the ready. All the burgers on my top 10 list share this most coveted of burger attributes.

The caramelised crust of what is essentially a charred chopped steak glistens beneath the custom-fitted brioche dome that crowns the Goodman steakhouse burger. The bun’s top half teeters over molten Cheddar and crisp, easy-to-chew streaky bacon, beckoning you to close shut the sandwich with your hands and devour it. But you will need to stretch the C-shaped brackets formed between thumbs and index fingers to make a go of it. The coarse texture of the patty is a tad firm but not dense, making it a joy to break down the beefy, juicy goodness in your mouth. With medium rare burgers blasted in a Josper Grill Goodman used to produce graduated shades of greyish rose rather than deep pink with shades of red. No more. Partly by seasoning the patties with salty fish sauce rather than salt its interior is now a study in pink on pink – London’s best burger. £13 including chips or fries.
Goodman Mayfair – 26 Maddox Street, W1S 1QH
Goodman City – 11 Old Jewry, EC2R 8DU
Goodman Canary Wharf – 3 South Quay, Discovery Dock East, E14 9RU 

Custom accessories may distinguish Bar Boulud‘s Yankee, Frenchie and Piggie, but it’sthe matching of two round body shapes –  the ground beef patty and the the bun –  that gets admiring looks. You’d have to go to Saville Row to find a better fit.  Coarse mince, best for improving inner texture and expanding surface area, is softly packed by hand into chubby little patties most would want to flatten out further. The Boulud grillmen, however, are right in their depth, not out of it. Order one medium rare and you get a New York medium rare: beneath the charred shell the beef is pink throughout. No grey fringes. The beef sits snugly beneath a thick layer of toppings inside the domed bun. It’s as if the bottom of the bun has a contoured seat, like an Eames chair. The burger, a tad under-seasoned or under-somethinged, gives easily to the gentlest of finger squeezes, first lubricating the bun and fixings and then your mouth with fatty juices. The Frenchie, with melty Morbier and thin slices of pork belly confit, is a splendid Gallic riff on a bacon cheeseburger, but it’s the Piggie burger, topped with red cabbage slaw and BBQ pulled pork, that is Boulud’s best. The £11.75-12.75, not including frites.
66 Knightsbridge, SW1X 7LA

Years ago outsiders flocked to The Cod, as this Chelsea pub is known, to see what the Sloane Rangers who gathered there were wearing. These days they go to see how the burgers are dressed. Chef Fred Smith lays his flat, firm-but-crumbly, fat-glistening patties over what I call iceberg slaw – shredded iceberg lettuce in a Dijon mayo dressing. This ingenious solution to the unwieldy lettuce issue was partly inspired by Heston Blumenthal and is also employed by David Myers for his acclaimed burger at the Los Angeles brasserie Comme Ça. The Cod burger, an 8-ounce blend of rib cap, chuck and fat trimmings from O’Shea’s of Knightsbridge (with extra bits sometimes thrown in) squirts juice with every bite. Fortunately the grilled brioche bun from Millers Bespoke Bakery is up to the task. £15 including hand-cut chips. Iceberg slaw aside this burger, like New York’s classics, is all about the beef. There is no subterfuge. There is nowhere to hide.
17 Mossop Street,  SW3 2LYI

There are only two pairs of hands you want to see around this big and deceptively powerful burger: yours or Hawksmoor‘s. Others have tried to duplicate the mince mix, which is said to include bone marrow and obscure cuts like beef shoulder clod, but these imposters have left me and their burgers crushed. Fat fills the grooves within the Hawksmoor burger as it cooks, both basting and breaking down its internal structure with deep, beefy flavours. The Hawksmoor burger patty sticks out the sides of its bun on an untidy raft of lettuce interruptus. Bad tailoring. Messy and squashed, the patty’s fatty juices grease your hands and breach the bottom of its bun even before you’ve taken your first bite. But, oh my, what a first bite! Danger. Implosion. It’s all there.
Hawksmoor Spitalfields – 157 Commercial Street, E1 6BJ
Hawksmoor Seven Dials – 11 Langley Street, WC2H 9JG
Hawksmoor Guildhall - 10/12 Basinghall St, EC2V 5BQ

The first taxable address registered to Yianni Papoutsis and Scott Collins, the co-conspirators behind the Meatwagon burger truck, sits at a shadowed site back side of Debenhams’ Oxford Street flagship. The Phil Spector of burger producers, Yianni spins spine-tingling, yellow-cheese-dripping compositions of Americana under the neon glow of twitter. The bacon cheeseburger leaks fatty juices from every crevice of its patty’s desirably crumbly periphery, lubricating the liberally seasoned surface for its bacon patty piggyback. There are black highlights on the crusty shell and pink ones through the medium-rare interior but you won’t see much of either at MEATliquor: This carnivorous funhouse of gothic surrealism is a dark ride dimly lit like a darkroom. Bacon cheeseburger is £7, not including fries (no great loss). Bring your night vision goggles.
corner of Henrietta & Welbeck Sts, W1G 0BA

Imagine the name of Orson Welles missing from the credits of The Third Man and you can begin to appreciate one’s astonishment at not finding the Joe Allen burger anywhere on the restaurant’s menu. The burger, like Welles, may not be the star of this production, but once it makes an appearance atop that house-baked brioche bun its commanding presence looms in your consciousness. Befitting its unlisted address in a discreet West End celebrity haunt, the all-chuck burger is a performer of measured stature: big but not obscenely so, lean but not dry, tender but not mushy. £8.50 not including chips.
13 Exeter Street, WC2E 7DT

A makeshift burger luncheonette built with hammer and nails, Honest Burgers has stuck to the fundamentals to give Brixton Village a strong contender for middleweight burger champion of London. Look out, MEATliquor. Tom Barton and Philip Eeles form 5 1/4 ounces (150 gr) of coarse, fatty mince into marbled beef balls and flatten them with their hands (not spatula) on their sizzling flat-top griddle. Only then are the burgers seasoned top and bottom with coarse salt. The Honest burger’s crunch comes from the level layers (important) of sliced gherkins and crisp streaky bacon, its tang from griddle-steamed Cheddar, its sweetness from red onion relish, its oven-browned polish from a brushed white-flour bun; its juice from marbled meat put through the most minimal of workouts. £6.50-8, including chips.
Unit 12, Brixton Village, London SW9

As food trucks go Lucky Chip is more Parcel Force than FedEx, its deliberate, one-by-one griddling suspiciously Meatwagonesque. But the comparison stops with a shared weakness for molten yellow cheese. From their rough patty surface encrusted with Murray Hill Australian sea salt to their beefy pink core to their fat-soaked crevices Ben Campbell’s burgers are high-impact middleweights. They’re nearly impossible to put down, figuratively and literally. Once you get your hands on that soft, polished bun you don’t want to let go. Lucky Chip may jump back up the London burger charts its busy griddle cooks become more attuned with how their burgers cook and eat. The smoked back bacon, for example, can be chewy and gristly. For the winter Lucky Chip has pulled out of its parking place at Netl Market and into the Sebright Arms pub, where it is in seasonal residence, dispensing burgers Tues-Sat 6pm until “late”, Sun 1pm-6pm.
Sebright Arms, 31-35 Coate Street, E2 9AG

In ordinary circumstances a 35-percent burger with zero-percent beef would not qualify for this list. But maxi exceptions must be made for a mini burger when the pork mince comes from acorn-fed Ibérico pigs and the melty succulence is from a corn-fed duck. Its luxurious components notwithstanding, the surprise star of Opera Tavern‘s tapas-style Ibérico pork and foie gras burger is the humble red onion. It’s prepared two ways: as a relish for the cushioning and fried in the manner of floured onion rings for the crisp topping. Both the pink-centered patty and bun are branded with black stripes of smoke off the charcoal grill. £5.95, not including chips.
23 Catherine St, WC2

Can there really be nine burgers in London superior to the one served only for weekday lunches at Elliot’s? Probably not. I’ve inserted it in the 10 spot only because I’ve only tried it twice and the second, ordered medium rare, was a soft pancake of not so much rare as uncooked mince. Elliot’s must first prove to me some level of consistency before I can rank it any higher. This is nevertheless a meaty addition to the middleweight class, its 160 grams of aged, coarsely minced beef shin and rib cap from Borough Market neighbour The Ginger Pig shaped for height at the expense of diameter. The creamy beefiness is closest to the Hawksmoor burger, whereas the shape and fit over Elliot’s very own outstanding olive oil brioche buns is in the Bar Boulud mold. As for toppings the beef-braised onions and melted aged Comté from the superb Borough trader The French Comté, are able sparring partners. So what can be improved? A darker sear to give the burger more of a crust? A crisp or crunchy accessory for texture? No matter. If my third and fourth Elliot’s burgers are as good as my first this baby will fly up the charts. £10.50 including matchstick fries.
12 Stoney Street, SE1