8 Whataburger Burgers, Ranked Worst To Best

Texans and others in the Southeast and Southwest know Whataburger for its eye-catching orange-and-white A-frames, its regional specials, and bigger-than-average burgers (never frozen) and buns. But if you didn't grow up in the Southern half of the U.S., you may be as surprised as I was when I learned that of the 10 largest burger chains in the U.S., Whataburger was one of three that actually grew its sales more than 2% in 2024, next to only In-N-Out and Culver's.

From its modest beginnings in Corpus Christi, Texas in 1950, when the proprietors could not find bread pans large enough for their 5-inch buns, through a tragic plane crash that killed its founder, to a corporate overhaul in the '90s, Whataburger boasts over 1,000 locations today from Nevada to Florida. Though the chain offers a lengthy breakfast menu, wings, and even a secret dessert involving apple pie, the heart and soul of the drive-thru are the burgers. I had the pleasure of trying nearly every kind of burger on the menu and ranking them from worst to best, according to taste and value. This includes eight burgers in total, from a modest Whataburger Jr. to a massive Bacon Wrangler Double. And the winner may surprise you.

As much as I love a classic, Whataburger's namesake turns out to be the least exciting of its burger lineup. It's not that there's anything wrong with this regular degular combination of a beef patty, lettuce, tomato, pickles, diced onions, and mustard. It's just that it was a bit boring and bland compared to the others. The patty isn't particularly remarkable –- wide, skinny, and well done, with not much char. It's nice to have fresh tomatoes and onions by default. There's just one mystery: Why just mustard and no ketchup? This was the case with most of the Whataburger burgers I tried, but in the original Whataburger, the mustard seemed to stand out more since the other mild toppings did little to compete with it.

To Whataburger's credit, the original Whataburger is a good value compared to other almost identical orders at competing burger chains. It also seems larger to me than other fast food burgers. Sure enough, according to the Texas State Historical Association, the goal of co-founder Harmon Dobson "was simple: Make a better burger that took two hands to hold and tasted so good that when you took a bite you would say 'What a burger!'" Go figure — its origins are proudly Texan, and you know what they say about Texas.

Compared to other "Junior" menu offerings at competitors, this burger seems like a decent deal. It's just as big as a burger you'd make at home and maybe even bigger than similar fast food chain orders, though at $3.89, it's no dollar burger. It comes with all the same fixings as its older sibling, the Whataburger, which is notable for a smaller burger offering, whereas at other chains tomatoes and onions may be absent.

Still, it was low on our list of Whataburger burgers simply because it doesn't have particularly flavorful toppings, and the burger patty itself doesn't have much to distinguish it. Oddly, when I raised the top bun to see the toppings, I found that the patty had been sliced in half. Could this be to distribute it more evenly on a too-big bun? Like the Whataburger, it's thin, cooked well done, and barely charred. The toppings were thrown on and not particularly evenly, at that. On the plus side, Whataburgers are easily customized. All in all, the Whataburger Jr. would be a perfectly fine lunch paired with fries. It's filling for a value item, but that's about where its merits end.

Why is it that fast food bacon is so ... well, weird? It's always paper-thin, bendy, and never crispy, but somehow still imparts a strong bacon flavor. On second thought, I don't actually want to know. 

This is the classic Whataburger topped with lettuce, tomato, and diced onion, only with the addition of American cheese and three slices of bacon. The bacon came less in strips and more in something I can only describe as large flakes, but it gave the burger a strong smoky flavor, and the cheese added some much-needed moisture. It feels hefty. Again here, the mustard plays a bit more of a starring role than I'd like, but that might just be personal preference (I am an avowed ketchup-mayo girly), and again, the curiously uneven toppings look like they might have been assembled by an abstract artist. See-through-ish bacon aside, though, this is a solid bacon cheeseburger.

This is where things got interesting. As we head into the territory Whataburger is known for, which is its specialty burgers and more compelling flavors, we landed on the priciest burger the chain has: the limited-time Bacon Wrangler Double. With two of Whataburger's wide, thin patties, American cheese and Monterey Jack cheese, three slices of bacon, fried onion strings, pickles, and chipotle aioli sauce, the Wrangler is a brick, but not in a bad way. There's a satisfying smoky savoriness here that makes you feel as if you're in a log cabin with a roaring fire and an elk's head mounted on the wall.

It seemed almost as if there was more cheese than advertised, with a slice between the two patties and then what looked like both cheeses underneath. The bacon was, again, more like flexible flakes heaped in a pile, but they were generous in amount. I found myself wishing for more fried onion strings (which looked a little more like chips), as they were tasty. The chipotle aioli sauce complemented everything else well, with enough creaminess to cut through the other decidedly heavy ingredients. And I gave thanks for, finally, just one burger without mustard. 

What stood out to me here was actually the color palette. Hear me out, okay? There is something visually appealing about a meal entirely made up of different hues in the earth-tone family: tan buns, a brown burger, reddish-beige bacon, off-white onions, and a creamy orange sauce. The only drawback? Nearly $10 is a little steep for a fast food burger, though it packs a punch of flavor.

I started off thinking this Avocado Bacon Burger was the winner, but I changed my mind the more of it I ate. Served on Texas toast, this burger has one large beef patty, three bacon slices, avocado, tomato, diced onions, and a creamy pepper sauce. I loved the creaminess I first encountered, and unlike other picks, this burger wasn't the least bit dry, as it had avocado (with the consistency of guacamole), sauce, and two veggies. And though it all held together well, the more I ate, the more it felt almost a little too wet.

I must admit, I'm impressed that so many fast food chains offer some form of avocado on a burger or sandwich because avocado is almost impossible to keep fresh without a pile of preservatives that change the flavor beyond all recognition. And at first, this avocado tasted almost recognizable: creamy and rich, without the brown discoloration you'd normally find. The rest of the ingredients went perfectly with it, making a complex, multi-textured sandwich without adding cheese or bacon. But a distinct taste of preservative fakeness always appears in processed guac, and it began to make itself known about four bites in. Just a hint of an unpleasant, almost plasticky flavor was enough for me to take this sandwich off its initial pedestal. Still, it really exceeded my expectations. But for anything with a name that has "avocado" in it and doesn't actually include fresh avocado, those expectations are generally on the floor.

This Whataburger Patty Melt had the opposite effect as its avocado-y cousin — it gave a lackluster first impression but improved on further investigation (read: eating more than a few first bites). An "All-Time Favorite" offering, the Patty Melt is served on two squares of Texas toast, with two beef patties, two slices of Monterey Jack cheese, grilled onions, and a creamy pepper dressing. At first, the melt seemed incredibly dry (the last thing you'd expect with this menu item), so much so that I had trouble swallowing it. But after the first two bites, I finally got to the toppings, and the melt did not disappoint.

This sandwich is deeply meaty — more so than any other burger I tried. The cooked onions added a deep savoriness and caramelized note. The pepper sauce was tangy, sweet, and a little brighter than the chipotle aioli on the Bacon Wrangler, but not essentially that different. Despite the toppings being piled mostly in the middle, the patties extended all the way to the ends of the bread, enough so that even a corner bite would have some meat in it. Even without the Wrangler's bacon, the Patty Melt was a hearty, beefy treat, and for $2 less, it seems like a deal.

Confession time: I have never, ever, even once, ordered anything with jalapeño in it. I don't know if it's the damp, off-green look of them or an unfortunate incident with jalapeño tequila early in life (a story for another time). But for the sake of art and my commitment to burger reviews, I bravely overcame. I was rewarded. The peppers here complemented the American cheese, burger patty, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and mustard so well, with just enough kick and sweetness to make their presence known. Whataburger was generous with the jalapeños, and they were even a bit crunchy, which made for a nice contrast.

As any lover of a Philly cheesesteak or a beer brat knows, green pepper has a brightness that goes so well with sizzling meat. Onions are a must, but I could have done without the pickles, so I peeled them off. Pickles have such a strong flavor that they compete with the jalapeños, which deserve their time in the spotlight. It can make for a confusing flavor mixture, but luckily, the order is easy to customize. Overall though, this burger was a standout, with balanced flavors and a bright kick from America's favorite hot(ish) pepper.

Because I live in the Southwest — specifically, the part of the Southwest that is most green-chile obsessed — I'll admit a teensy tiny bit of bias here. If you choose to ignore this top pick and start with the rest of the list, I would understand. And alas, the Green Chile Double is not available at all Whataburger locations, though you can find it in New Mexico, Arizona, and some parts of Texas. Still, Whataburger's Green Chile Double was the best burger I tried. With two patties, two kinds of cheese, and green chiles, this is a combination of flavors and textures that cannot fail: smoky, umami beef, creamy, melty cheeses, and grassy, slightly hot green chiles. Amazingly, the single topping here happened to be well-distributed, and the slice of cheese between the two patties held the burger together well.

Whataburger buns are thick enough to stand up to two large patties, and because of the generous layer of green chile, there was no dry burger here. I could have even used a little more heat, but I will never complain about the green chiles' flavor rather than their burning quality taking center stage. And at a whole $2 less than another special, the Bacon Wrangler, it's a decent deal. I swear it's not only because of regional pride that this burger made the top of the list. Green chile is a unique flavor you can't find everywhere, but it's likely one of a few that brings Whataburger fans to this fast-food chain over others.

For this Whataburger ranking, we selected as many burger menu items as possible that were still different enough from one another to not repeat too much. For example, we didn't try a Double Meat Whataburger since we already had a regular Whataburger and other double meat burgers, or a Whataburger Jr. with Bacon & Cheese, since we already had a Whataburger Jr. and a regular Bacon & Cheese Whataburger.

We tried most of the "Limited & All-Time Favorites" for as much variety as possible and counted the Whataburger Patty Melt as a burger (though there are differences between the two) since, well ... it has patties. In ranking the burgers, I considered flavor above all. Is there enough of it? Can I taste every ingredient? Are the flavors balanced? I also considered value. For example, was one burger better enough than another to justify a $2 price difference? Is the least expensive burger a good deal? I considered other secondary factors, such as the assembly of the burger (if it was put together in a way that makes it easy and enjoyable to eat), and though visual expectation almost never meets reality in fast-food-burger-land, if the burger at least looked presentable.