A counter.
A grill.
A neighborhood.

Built around a flat-top.

Ugly Burger started small and stayed small on purpose. We're on Ballinger Way in Shoreline, in a corner spot you'd walk past if you didn't know what was inside. Four tables. A counter. A flat-top. Two people running it most days — one cooking, one ringing up orders.

We started this place because the burger we wanted to eat didn't exist around here. Not a chain burger. Not a thirty-dollar bistro burger. A real one — fresh beef, smashed when you order it, toasted bun, crisp lettuce, a sauce that's actually got something to say.

The Ugly Sauce.

It's the one thing on the menu we won't tell you the recipe for. People compare it to Big Mac sauce, but seasoned more. A little kick. A little tang. You'll find it on the Ugly Burger and you can ask for a side anytime.

Why "Ugly"?

Because we're not pretty. The dining room is tight. The line moves at the speed it moves. The plating is honest. The food does the talking. Most of our regulars find us by accident and most of them come back on purpose.

If you're new — welcome. Try the Ugly Burger. Add the garlic fries. Get a shake. Sit at one of the four tables if you can grab one, or take it home in a paper bag that's already starting to soak through.

— The family at Ugly Burger