Having recently enjoyed a number of plush, thick, juicy burgers that were red in the center and shaped like footballs, I was craving a good thin one. I am aware of no formal sliders near where I live, but that's OK, because I am just minutes away from the Sycamore Drive-In, where the hamburgers are squished thin enough on the grill that there virtually is no inside, just exterior juiciness and crust. As this was a between-meal snack, I forwent my usual favorite Dagwood Burger in favor of a simple cheeseburger. "Everything on it?" asked the waitress; and it was at this point it dawned on me that the joy of a thin hamburger as served at the Sycamore is not only about the disc of glistening beef. It is about the extremely thin pickles that are folded in on top of it, the equally thin, crunchy raw onion rings, the ketchup, mustard, and of course the cheese that melts into every crevice of the meat. To me, this is a nostalgic taste: an old-time, drive-in burger made of humble ingredients but adding up to a princely roadside treat. Of course, on the side, I drank root beer.