It was the milkshake that brought me to the yard of Burger Guys on Houston's west side. And, sorry, Avalon and 59 diners — their milkshake is better than yours.

Spun from in house-churned ice cream, the milkshakes are the perfect consistency — not the kind that requires seemingly hours of straw foreplay before that first taste. But like the entire Burger Guys menu, the milkshakes are remarkable for their adventurous flavors rather than their execution. Beyond French vanilla, there's a café sua da (Vietnamese coffee), Cap'n Crunch Crunch Berries, caramel apple, salted caramel and the latest addition, kettle corn.

I dove head first into the latter two flavors, and beyond being pleased to learn that they weren't identical, was completely enamored. The cup of salted caramel better captured the dichotomy of flavors, and I'm not saying that just because it's a more recent fad than kettle corn.

With its thick burger patties, it can be difficult to stomach Burger Guys' hefty shakes alongside a sandwich. Thankfully, the shakes come in half sizes, or if you're not ready to mix milk and meat, there's a soda fountain of corn syrup-free vintage sodas. Fresh Dublin Dr. Pepper and original Big Red are hard to refuse.

Of course, the Guys are all about the burger. The basis of each selection is an eggy challah bun and generous patty with protruding crisp chunks of charred meat. And in case that's not enough protein, you can order a fried chicken or duck egg atop any burger.

Each sandwich is named for a city that, at least partially, inspires its ingredients. The farther afield you venture on your urban tour, the more satisfied you will find yourself. That is to say, the Indianapolis is a bit of a bore, and even the bread and butter pickled jalapeños and Saint Arnold's mustard on the Houstonian didn't make for a burger worth a half hour schlep out to west Houston.

However, it is the Saigon that will keep me coming back. Piled atop the beef is a slather of pâté and a heaping pile of pickled carrots, daikon and jalapeño. If you've had a supreme bánh mi before, then you know how well pâté complements a meaty sandwich. This burger had the ideal complexity of flavors that made it equally rich and refreshing. Fusion cuisine can be tricky when it comes to interfering with all-American classics, but at Burger Guys, it's the way to go.

The side of rendered duck fat-fried Belgian fries is enhanced by a house-made ketchup, which lacks the unnatural sweetness of bottled sauce. For the second complimentary sauce, I chose a garlic lemon aioli, whose thick texture competed a little with the grease-soaked fries, but was still far from disappointing. Ultimately, the fries may be better enjoyed without sauce, in order to savor the duck undertone and texture of the fragments of potato skins.

Inside this unassuming, stainless steel-clad restaurant, the menu is always changing with the season and holidays. Now that the initial buzz has worn off from its 2010 opening, it's time to snag a seat along the counter of the open kitchen and say, "Hello" to the Burger Guys.