At Matt’s Bar in Minneapolis, hundreds if not thousands of these juicy gems get churned out from a griddle the width of a kitchen sink. Two patties are sealed together around some kind of amazing cheese mixture that melts into a glorious liquid once it’s grilled. (The “i” is deliberately omitted, since the veteran employee who posted the sign back in 1950 wasn’t the greatest speller, if not in a huge hurry to get back to the griddle.

 Here, my friend’s husband dresses his Lucy with the biggest helping of ketchup I’ve ever seen.

 Mitch enjoys her first, if not slightly painful bite. By the way, we were amazed to immediately get a table, since there’s usually a line out the door for these babies.

 I approach mine gingerly so I don’t destroy the roof of my mouth. The element of surprise is akin to Chicken Kiev, but it’s best to anticipate it so no one gets hurt.

 An interior view of the splendor, adorned with pickles and grilled onions.

 Matt’s has a friendly feud with another joint who also claims to have the best Lucy. Mitch is confident that Matt’s is the champion.

 I found a recipe for it here, and will definitely be trying to recreate this Midwestern masterpiece when I return home.

Happiest gals in the Midwest? You betcha.