Hello there, it's our Burger Friday feature, roused from hibernation in honor of new developments at Burger-Chan in Greenway Plaza, née Kuma Burgers.

The food court kiosk run by chef Willet Feng and his wife, Diane, recently changed its name to dispense with a trademark dispute. (Shades of Habanera and the Gringo, recently rechristened Habanera and the Guero for similar reasons.)

"Chan" is a Japanese diminutive connoting cuteness, the Fengs explain, so they came up with a "smaller, cuter" (and less expensive) burger to celebrate the new name.

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Instead of their regular 5-ounce beef patty, two 2-ounce patties get flattened and sizzled on the griddle. Then they're layered with double cheese and a suite of ingredients that add up to Feng's All-American version of a regulation In-N-Out or Shake Shack burger — a departure from his usual Asian-inflected and Houston-specific approach.

The result? A burger so nice I ate it twice. Seriously, I felt the urge to return just to double check if I liked the new burger-chan sandwich as much as I thought I did.

More Information Burger-chan

3 Greenway Plaza Ste C220

Concourse Level Food Hub

832-542-3528

Hours: 10:30 a.m.-2 p.m., Monday through Friday

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That's my story, anyway, and I am sticking to it. Come along to the space-agey underground mall at Greenway Place and see why.

PRICE: $5.50 for the burger-chan; $3.75 for a small (12-ounce) vanilla shake; $1 for a bottled water.

ORDERING: The line forms on the right of the kiosk, where customers check off their choices on mini-clipboard order forms suspended from the wall. As of June 8, the burger-chan was not printed as an option — and, unlike the other burgers, it comes with a standard set of ingredients — so you just tell the cashier you want one. Note: Now is when you want to present your Greenway parking ticket if you want the free 2-hour validation. Pay up and move to the far end of the line to pick up napkins, drinks and await your order to be called, after which you can take it to one of the many sleek tables in the food court and surrounding corridors.

ARCHITECTURE: Salad stuff on the bottom. On a griddled-on-two-sides potato bun goes a swipe of Thousand Island dressing, a sheaf of iceberg ribbons, and a couple thin slices of tomato, followed by two 2-ounce patties layered with thin slices of cheddar cheese. On top sits a crown of caramelized onion.

QUALITY: This is one of those blessed sandwiches in which the ingredients add up to way more than the sum of the parts. It's hard for a skinny 2-ounce beef patty to have much impact, but here, they do: thanks to a good strong sear that manages to leave juices within; and to Feng's trademark umami-bomb glaze, painted on during the precision cooking process.

That bump of browned butter, soy, shiitake, Worcestershire and roasted garlic is what makes the beefiness shine through all else in this burger. Sweet and savory onion, maximally caramelized, cradles the flavors. The crunch of lettuce and the ripe (!) slide of tomato add a fresh note. The melted cheddar gilds and softens without smothering. And the Thousand Island contributes exactly the right note of sweet-and-sour tang.

I loved every moment of this burger, and my only quibble is that afterwards I found myself craving lots and lots of water, even though I wasn't aware of any over-saltiness while I was eating it.

OOZE RATING: Excellent. In fact, the red-and-white-checked tissue paper that wraps the burger will be unable to contain the meat juices. Make sure you have a pile of paper napkins to cope.

GRADE: A-plus.

BONUS POINTS: Good skinny hand-cut French fries with such striking house-made condiments as a pale green scallion aioli, plus a roster of serious milkshakes that includes a subtle, seasonal corn flavor and a delicate, pure vanilla. They're just thick enough, just thin enough to sip through a straw — a balance that is seldom achieved.

LOCAL COLOR: The crowd that queues during the noon hour is a panoply of white-collar Houston. New dining areas lining Greenway Plaza's recently reconfigured underground corridors are pristine white, cool, and calm, while the central food hall is a hive of noise and activity. Walk just a bit further and you can dine at space-age tables and chairs under a clear sci-fi dome, one of the most delightfully eccentric lunch spots in Houston. (I hear Burger-Chan may move down to that end of the court, an outcome devoutly to be wished.)

The clothes-pinned tickets stack up in a solid line around noon, so if you have the option to come a little early, or between 1 and the 2 p.m. close, do so. Still, the line has its pleasures. This week I watched in awe as a teenager who had come to have lunch with her office-worker mom ordered her burger, left the line and returned bearing a sundae procured at the Nestle Toll House kiosk.

She dispatched it just in time to pick up her burger. I liked her style.