I Tried 14 Different Cheeses On Burgers, And This Is The One That Belongs At Every Cookout

I've had my share of cheeseburgers, from fast food bacon cheeseburgers to ranking (almost) every burger at Steak 'n' Shake, and even one mind-blowing breakfast burger at Cracker Barrel. But what makes a good restaurant burger doesn't necessarily make a good cookout burger.

The conditions at a cookout are different. There's usually one person running the grill — with either a ton of expertise or very little — and, unless the host is a major foodie, the toppings and condiments available can be scarce. I've been to several cookouts where the only toppings were foil-wrapped packets of ketchup and yellow mustard, and even one that offered nothing but overcooked beef and congealed cheese on a bun. In some cases, less is more when it comes to burger toppings, but that cookout wasn't one of those.

While a fully-loaded cheeseburger can disguise a myriad of cookout sins, when there are no other flavors to hide behind, the type of cheese you use can make a big difference. With this in mind, I set out to find the best cheese for loading a patty. I searched Reddit for opinions, tracked the recommendations down at my local grocery stores, and taste-tested them. I stuck to worst-case-scenario no-toppings cookout conditions — a well-done patty with cheese on a bun. And what I discovered along the way upended everything I thought I knew about cheeseburgers.

I bit into my goat cheese burger fully expecting to love it. The best burger I've ever tasted was made with goat cheese, so I was pretty confident. I didn't even bother to take a precautionary nibble before biting off a massive hunk of the slider. That turned out to be a big mistake.

When paired with toppings like caramelized onions and fig jam — the other components on my all-time favorite burger — goat cheese brings a tangy bite that bridges the gap between the sweet add-ons and the savory burger patty. But on its own on a burger, goat's cheese is just hot, sour mush. It doesn't melt so much as soften, and though it is definitely tangy, it's the wrong kind of tang for a plain cheeseburger. Instead, it just tastes like something has gone horribly awry. 

It took me longer than most people to finally give blue cheese a chance, but the first time I tried it on a steak, I was hooked. I love its sharpness, especially paired with a sweet, acidic sauce like a balsamic glaze. Still, I had my doubts about how it would perform on its own.

To its credit, blue cheese has much the same effect on a burger as it does on a steak, starkly contrasting with the fatty, savory beef. Its pungency is unmistakable, which I love, though I have to admit it would be a bold move to offer this as the only cheese option at a cookout. Unsurprisingly, my kids wouldn't touch it.

But, even as a lover of blue cheese, it doesn't work as well on its own on a burger as it does when paired with other toppings. With no acid or sweetness to cut through the strong flavor, the blue cheese only adds to the richness of the meat, resulting in a rather overwhelming combination. And, of course, there is no melt to speak of, so it ends up being a smattering of blobs. As much as I wanted to love this, blue cheese is just not well-suited to being the only topping on a cheeseburger.

Though the Colby Jack cheese from Cabot melted the fastest on one of the four sliders I had going on my electric skillet, it did sweat a bit, with evidence of splitting in the process. Because I pulled the burger from the heat just shy of a full, runny melt, the cheese didn't break completely, but it's still less than ideal, aesthetically speaking.

Even so, the cheeseburger bite was smooth and melty with a nice amount of moisture, so the texture didn't suffer too much in the grand scheme of things. The Colby Jack is quite mild, so it adds more texture than flavor, but it's still a nice combination on a burger. I probably wouldn't reach for it myself, but my kids begged for more, and that counts for a lot in my book.

Cheddar was one of the most popular burger cheeses I found recommended online, with a general consensus that sharper was better. And there was a time when a super sharp cheddar was my go-to burger cheese. But in this particular taste test, cheddar didn't quite hit the mark.

The taste of the cheddar is great, with a sharpness that keeps things interesting, cutting right through the fatty richness of the meat, even without any condiments or toppings. But the melt leaves a lot to be desired. Instead, the cheese sweats and turns translucent without ever getting very gooey at all. As much as I love the flavor contrast, cheddar doesn't melt well enough to be a true contender for the top burger cheese. I'll stick to meltier cheeses for my burger toppings and save my cheddar for a cold cut sandwich.

Mozzarella is a fairly quick melter, softening faster than cheddar but slower than Gouda. There's no sign of breaking, which makes sense — after all, mozzarella sticks wouldn't be nearly as good if they turned into an oily blob when they melted. The downside, though, is that it's a little too stretchy, requiring more chewing to break down than any other cheese I tried.

That extreme stretch, coupled with a super mild flavor, makes mozzarella less than ideal on a burger, at least on its own. With the benefit of some acid to help break it down and boost the flavor, like marinara or even ketchup, a mozzarella cheese burger would be lovely. I could definitely see myself chowing down on a pizza burger, for example. But on its own, mozzarella is just a little too rubbery and dull to be the best cheese to pair with your patty.

I've always been a fan of a good mushroom and Swiss burger, but I don't think I'd ever tried Swiss cheese on a burger without any other toppings or condiments at all. So, naturally, I was curious how it would hold up. Somehow, it ended up being both slightly better than expected and not quite up to par.

The flavor of the Swiss cheese definitely exceeded my expectations. It's mildly pungent in a way most of the other white cheeses I tried aren't, making a noticeable contribution to the flavor of the burger as a whole. But sadly, the Swiss cheese is one of the less aesthetically pleasing cheeses in the melting department. It's slightly translucent and a little bit sweaty, with a little more stretch than I want out of cheese on a cheeseburger. It's tasty, but definitely not the best overall.

Monterey Jack is a famous melter, oozing its way into everything from casseroles to quesadillas, so I had a hunch it would be great on a burger. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to find sliced Monterey Jack at any of my local stores, from the deli or prepackaged, so I had to settle for a store-brand shredded Monterey Jack. As it turned out, this made a huge difference in the overall quality of the burger.

Contrary to its melty reputation, Kroger's shredded Monterey Jack is a bit of a let-down. I had expected it to melt even better than sliced cheese, with a higher surface-to-mass ratio that would allow it to take in more heat faster. But something about the pre-shredded cheese seems to get in its own way, with the shreds never fully combining into a cohesive mass of melted cheese. I imagine this is probably due to some kind of anti-caking agent used to keep the cheese from compressing in the bag.

As for the flavor, though, I have no complaints. It's very mild, without much sweetness or nuttiness to note. Like some of the other cheeses I tried for this taste test, Monterey Jack brings more texture than flavor to the equation, so it's an even bigger bummer when the texture is somewhat disappointing.

I had rather high hopes for the pepper jack burger. After all, being mainly Monterey Jack, it's an excellent melter with a slightly nutty flavor, and without any condiments, I was counting on the minced peppers to come through and make things a little more interesting.

The Cabot pepper jack melted noticeably better than the Kroger Monterey Jack cheese, even with the Cabot being sliced and the Monterey Jack being shredded. Unfortunately, the peppers in the Cabot weren't intense enough to make a big difference to the flavor. As hard as I searched, I couldn't find the heat in a single bite. So while it's definitely a great burger cheese in terms of melting point and texture, it's no better than a Monterey Jack in terms of flavor.

Provolone holds a special place in my heart because of its nearly unmatched meltiness. It gives pizza a soft cheese pull that goes on for miles, and it makes up half of my go-to grilled cheese sandwich combo (alongside a nice, sharp cheddar). Given all that, I had very high hopes for how provolone would perform on a burger, and it lived up to them quite well.

The provolone melts perfectly, clinging to the contours of the burger without completely sliding off the top, and without a single sign of splitting or even sweating. The texture works really well with the burger: the gooey, stretchy cheese contrasts nicely with the juiciness and crisp char of the patty. The flavor is definitely mild, but with a slightly more buttery, nutty taste than mozzarella, which certainly works out in provolone's favor.

I was a little surprised to see Havarti come up so often in conversations about cheeseburgers. Mild and semi-soft, it's an obvious choice for a charcuterie board, but I've never had nor seen it on a burger until now. But having tried it, I can confirm that it works in delightfully unexpected ways.

Of the four cheeses I had melting in the pan — including provolone, American, and Colby Jack — Havarti took the longest to melt by far. I had photographed and tasted the other three by the time I finally pulled the Havarti from the pan. But boy, was it worth the wait.

The Havarti melts evenly, much like American cheese, but has a velvety texture that lands somewhere between provolone and brie. It definitely qualifies as mild, but the slightly sweet, buttery flavor manages to stand out even against the richness of the beef patty. It almost tastes and feels like the bun is lightly slathered in mayo, even when it's not, and that's perfect.

I wasn't always a fan of Muenster. Something about the orange rind always unsettled me a bit. But with so many recommendations scattered across the internet, I had to try it. And thank goodness I did, because it's easily among my top five favorite burger cheeses.

For one thing, it's a fast-melting cheese that doesn't even break a sweat. The bite is just right, with a solid balance between stretchiness and gooeyness. It's not rubbery like mozzarella, but still has a teensy bit of tenacity that makes it super satisfying to bite through.

The flavor is excellent, too. It's mild enough not to completely suffocate the meat, but with a more noticeable nuttiness compared with provolone. At a cookout, I know it will be a hit whether folks enjoy it on plain beef or covered in veggies and sauces. 

American cheese is highly controversial, with most people falling at opposite ends of the love/hate spectrum, and very few remaining neutral in the debate. Yet Cooper Sharp — a sharp, yellow American cheese — kept coming up by name again and again in my search for the best cheese for burgers, usually followed by counter declarations that American cheese is an abomination and should be scoured from the face of the earth.

Having grown up on real American cheese sliced fresh from the deli, I suspect that most of the hate comes from an unfortunate association between American cheese and Kraft Singles. That being said, I still wasn't prepared for how good Cooper Sharp really is on a burger.

Yes, American cheese is crafted specifically for its smooth, consistent melting properties, but Cooper Sharp kicks it up several notches. Some cheeses split, and some don't, but this American cheese in particular manages to melt consistently from edge to edge like nothing I've ever seen. It somehow makes the entire burger feel richer and juicier, and the flavor is killer, too, with a sharpness that lands roughly in the same ballpark as a medium cheddar. It's got just enough tang to keep things interesting, but not so intense as to steal the show.

Jarlsberg ended up being one of the biggest surprises of this entire taste test. I've only ever had it on a cheese board at a wine tasting, so I had no idea how it would perform when the heat was on. But it made a surprisingly strong showing overall.

As it turns out, Jarlsberg is a really good melter. I didn't fully trust myself to get the right thickness slicing it by hand, so I shredded it off the wedge. But unlike the pre-shredded Monterey Jack, the shredded Jarlsberg homogenizes nicely when it melts, spreading evenly across the burger. It has a nice gooey texture when biting into it, with no noticeable stretch, which I love.

The flavor is where Jarlsberg really stands out, though. It has a nutty, sweet taste that's similar to Swiss, but not quite as earthy. Unlike milder cheeses, it's still noticeable even on a well-seasoned burger patty, but it doesn't overpower the other flavors. If baby Swiss cheese melted like Havarti, it would be Jarlsberg.

Gouda's melting properties are legendary. There was a time in my life when I would regularly eat baked Gouda — half a round wrapped in crescent dough — for dinner. Though that would almost certainly kill me if I tried it today, I still have a soft spot for melted Gouda. In a batch of burgers alongside mozzarella, pepper jack, and cheddar, Gouda was the first to melt. It didn't even break a sweat, just softened evenly across the surface of the patty.

But what really blew me away about the Gouda was its flavor. In my search for the best burger cheese, I often found smoked Gouda recommended specifically, so that was what I went for, but I had no idea what a difference a little bit of smoke would make. The flavor is surprisingly intense, not only standing out against the fatty beef, but even creating the sensation of eating a bacon cheeseburger.

In fact, that's what ultimately tips the scales in favor of the Gouda. It makes a plain old burger patty with cheese on a bun feel like a decadent, well-dressed gourmet burger, without adding a single topping or condiment. If I'm hosting a cookout, the meat and cheese are all I've got control over, but with smoked Gouda, I know it's going to make for a memorable burger, whether my guests eat it plain or drown it in ketchup.

To determine which cheese is truly the best for summer cookouts, I started by scouring Reddit for discussions on the perfect cheeseburger cheese. I took nearly every recommendation — including a couple of somewhat questionable ones — and tracked them down at my local Meijer and Kroger stores. As far as brand selection, I generally prioritized fresh cheeses that could be purchased from the deli, only opting for pre-packaged cheeses when neither deli had them. I also tried to choose name brands over store brands. In one case — Cooper Sharp — I went in with the brand in mind due to an overwhelming number of Redditors recommending it by name in every thread I could find.

I prepared 2-ounce sliders with simply (but thoroughly) seasoned beef — salt, black pepper, garlic powder, and a splash of Worcestershire sauce — in an electric skillet until well-done and lightly charred. I topped the patties with just enough of each cheese to cover (or nearly cover) them, which was roughly a quarter-slice, or a heaping tablespoon of the shredded and crumbled cheeses. I allowed the cheeses to melt until they just started to contour around the edges of the patties, pulling them before they fully melted (or, in the case of the blue and goat cheeses, when it became clear that they weren't going to melt). Finally, I plopped the cheesed patties on slider buns, sampled them plain, and evaluated them according to meltiness, flavor, and texture.