Eavesdropping on a recent conversation about the best burger in the Twin Cities, we were horrified to note the following ground rule: "But not counting Vincent, of course, that thing is beyond a burger..." What! Is this what happened back in the evolutionary mists of time when the first fish grew legs? They just kicked him right out of the ocean and didn't let him party with the other fish anymore? What's fair about that? People, people. Just because this burger is stuffed with the tender meat that has fallen from the bone of braised short ribs, just because those intense short rib threads are combined with smoked Gouda, just because that whole little cheesy-beefy wonder nugget is wrapped in sirloin and grilled till it blisters with char, just because it is then tucked into an eggy bun and gilded with a mayonnaise popping with minced cornichons and sherry vinegar, just because it is finally adorned with wisps of onion and slices of restaurant-kitchen-quality slices of tomato and leaves of lettuce--just because of all that must we no longer call it a fish? Evolution, people. It is a friend, not a foe.