At last, the arrival of an independent burger joint in Hillcrest that is fast becoming a culinary icon much like Hodad’s is to Ocean Beach or Crazy Burger is to North Park.

Thanks to Lee Bergeron, a house flipper-turned-restaurateur, we need only traipse to the east end of gaydom to encounter Lucky Buck’s, a veritable shrine to the all-American beef patty concealing secret spices and an equally guarded marinade that gets brushed onto the meat as it cooks on a flame-spitting grill.

The eatery has slowly but surely taken root among burger lovers since opening 14 months ago. Bergeron says he now sells about 6,000 hamburgers a month from a menu that has come to include 16 different versions – many of them adorned by a decadently creamy homemade chipotle sauce. The numbers suggest that not everyone claiming to subsist on grilled chicken salads and trendy yogurt is avoiding the herds. Indeed, I’ve spotted a few self-righteous eaters I know dart into the place donning their Adidas gym threads. OK, perhaps they breezed through only to cure their fix for a veggie burrito or Boca burger. But it’s their loss if true.

The beef comes from Hamilton Meats, a distributor I consider to be notches above Sysco in terms of quality and freshness. Whether you choose regular Angus or upgrade to grass-fed, organic meat for $2 more, the burgers weigh in at about seven ounces, balancing a semi-moist texture with good old-fashioned flavor, augmented by those stealthy flavorings that Bergeron won’t reveal.

A basic Lucky’s cheeseburger with pillowy waffle fries that I gleefully consumed several months ago prompted my return with two extra mouths in tow. Comprising our repast was the new organic Rod Luck burger, named after KUSI’s in-your-face morning reporter, who apparently put his choppers to work here over the airwaves recently. Not surprising, the combination of Cajun spices, blue cheese, seasoned onion rings and chipotle sauce tasted over the top, leaving me to conclude that I personally wouldn’t name a bowl of worms after this unsavory TV personality if I ran a kitchen. Yet scores of viewers find the man endearing, just as many will potentially embrace the boisterous flavors shrouding his namesake patty.

Unanimous raves went instead to the Cluck ‘n Buck sporting pepper jack cheese, hickory bacon, a fried egg and the chipotle sauce. A cholesterol pipe bomb by all accounts, the ingredients jived well. So in the face of bliss, we justified our sinful behavior with the adage: “Live well, eat right, die anyway.”

Turning to the Southwestern chicken sandwich without any expectations of unloading our guilt, we encountered more bacon, pepper jack and house sauce lopped onto a juicy grilled chicken breast. The sandwich took on the addition of guacamole as well, which appeared overly smooth and light green in color. It’s a tangy recipe that dilutes the avocado somewhat, thus complimenting the chicken much better with its mysterious acidity than it did an order of nachos.

We also tried the chicken burrito, which along with the veggie version, read like footnotes on the burger-rich menu.

“It’s the size of a child’s thigh!” exclaimed a friend in our trio as he prepared to wash down a section of the American-Mex creation with a monstrous 32-ounce mug of beer. We were told the burrito is blasé unless it’s ordered “wet” from a unique, silky white queso sauce made of jack and cream cheeses. We would have liked it anyhow, given the bounty of diced grilled chicken and supple black beans that flopped out of the fresh flour tortilla made on site.

A separate menu featuring about a dozen appetizers includes the Lucky Deluxe, which piles into a large straw basket liberal samplings of chicken tenders, jalapeno poppers, mozzarella sticks, chicken wings and onion rings, along with ranch, chipotle and hot sauces.

“It is what it is,” we concurred – a cornucopia of satisfying fried finger food that few people can eyeball while sitting on their hands.

The burgers ultimately steal the show, though, whether garnished with pineapple and teriyaki, chili and red onions or in the case of the Wet Buck, mushrooms, jalapenos and salsa fresca. Traditionalists, of course, will enjoy a warm embrace with the Plain Ol’ Buck or basic cheddar burger.

Bergeron has livened up the casual atmosphere with a digital online jukebox, vivid wall art and a couple of video machines loaded with hundreds of trivia games, some of them racy. He also obtained a full liquor license, resulting in a menu of spunky cocktails and a weekday happy hour (from 3-6 p.m.) featuring $4 margaritas and $2 brews.

In a country characterized for its prolific ability to flip burgers and serve them at nearly every stop light, Lucky Buck’s steps up to the plate with both imaginative and customary precision, and without those greasy, sodium-laced puddles soaking through the buns.