The New Mexico green chile cheeseburger is the state's default burger, and the thing that defines it is that the Hatch chile is treated as a layer with weight, not a garnish. Roasted, peeled Hatch green chile is laid on the patty thick, often chopped and spooned on so it behaves almost like a relish that sits in the cheese rather than a single pod placed on top. The chile is the dominant flavor, and the burn is a slow building heat that arrives a beat after the bite rather than a sharp front. That reading, chile as the loaded headline ingredient stacked into the build, is what separates it from the Colorado green chile burger, where a single roasted pod is laid on as a vegetable and the heat stays tighter and more contained.
The craft is in the roast and in pinning a wet topping to the meat. Roasting blisters and chars the Hatch skin so it slips off, which deepens the pepper and turns its raw vegetal edge into something rounder with a controlled, lingering burn. The chile carries moisture, so it goes on while the patty is still hot and a slice of cheese, often American for its flow, is melted directly over it so the cheese sets into a lacquer that traps the chile against the seared crust instead of letting a loose, wet pile slide off the patty and out the back of the bun. The bun has to absorb the fat of the beef and the water the chile gives off without going to mush, which is why a sturdier soft bun is the right carrier. This is roadside, diner, and drive-in food across New Mexico, the chile roasted by the sack in the fall and held so a heavy spoonful can go on to order.
The variations move with the chile and the cheese. A double patty to carry a heavier chile load, a build that runs the chile as a full smothering sauce and tips toward a knife-and-fork plate, a swap to a sharper cheese under the pepper. It belongs to the broad American burger family and its regional dialects, and those relatives deserve their own articles rather than being crowded in here.