The glorious return.

The sandwich: Double-double “Animal style” from In-N-Out Burger, many locations, none anywhere near New York.

The construction: Two mustard-grilled beef patties on a toasted hamburger bun with lettuce, tomato, American cheese, pickles, tomato, lettuce, grilled diced onions and “spread” — basically Thousand Island dressing.

Important background information: You’ve probably heard of In-N-Out. Hell, you’ve probably even heard of ordering burgers “Animal style” there, even if it’s not on the menu and you’ve never been anywhere near one of the restaurants. By reputation, it is practically the Holy Grail of fast-food burgers, celebrated in classics as monumental as The Big Lebowski, compared — often favorably — to delicacies like those available at Five Guys and Shake Shack.

So the first thing that shocked me about In-N-Out Burger upon my entry to California was the chain’s availability. I thought it was something to be sought out when in the neighborhood to shake down Larry Sellers, not something I’d pass multiple times on drive from the Oakland airport to our hotel in San Francisco. It’s everywhere. I’m not sure if that’s always been the case, but it has been the case every time I’ve been to California — this one time, last week — so in my world that’s how In-N-Out Burger exists: A dominant California fast-food chain.

And definitely that: Fast food. And look, this website has an entire navigational tab devoted to Taco Bell and does not in any way judge more humble cuisines. But In-N-Out isn’t peddling the sort of hip, meta-fast-food pretense you find at Shake Shack, it’s plain-old fast food all the way: Red and yellow neon lights so bright you can’t stare right at them.

Because of its ubiquity and that beckoning fast-food glow, I went twice. The first, I ordered a regular double-double, minus the raw sliced onion — that’s not my bag. The second time, I opted for Animal style, figuring the diced grilled onions would be less intrusive. But I was hungry and I didn’t take a photo. There are plenty of pictures available on the Internet.

So, I guess: What it looks like.

And here’s the regular Double Double just so this post isn’t too texty:

How it tastes: Relative to what?

To my sky-high expectations: A bit disappointing. To Shake Shack and Five Guys: Not as good (more on that in a bit). To the standard fast-food burger chains, McDonald’s, Wendy’s and Burger King: Excellent.

Ordering it Animal-style is key; the second burger I had was so much better than the first that it’s a wonder they keep the mustard-grilling and extra pickles exclusive. They add a ton of vinegary tang to the affair, and even the onions — my old enemy — add a familiar greasy, sweet flavor to the thin, tasty beef patties.

The bun is good — toasting it was a great touch. And the lettuce and tomato are clearly way fresher than you get at most fast-food places, bringing juiciness to the sandwich and maybe helping you forget that you’re actively destroying yourself with red meat (and a side of underwhelming french fries).

But someone’s going to try to tell me that this meat, in terms of pure meaty deliciousness, stands a chance against the meat in the Shake Shack burger in a one-on-one taste test? C’mon. C’mon. Not even close.

Push comes to shove I’d take the Five Guys meat over this too. Plus there’s more of it, and at Five Guys I can find any topping I want — including bacon — right there on the menu with no need to spend time on the Internet uncovering secret codes before I go in. It’s awful cute that In-N-Out doesn’t let you know it’s full array of options, I guess, but really: Why?

But then, I’m not sure why anyone sees the need to pick a winner among the three. They present very distinct burgers and very distinct burger-eating experiences, and all — my various quibbles with In-N-Out noted here not withstanding — are plenty delicious. I will instead celebrate the work all three chains have done in elevating the standards set for this sandwich, as they undoubtedly have. Hooray for cheeseburgers.

What it’s worth: Only $3.15, plus the flight to California.

How it rates: 71 out of 100.

Look: You don’t need to remind me that I’ve been remiss in my Sandwich of the Week duties the past couple of weeks.

I know.

I have been enduring something that could only be described as “sandwich writer’s block.” It is not for want of sandwiches recently eaten. There are plenty of those, I promise. Page through my iPhone photo gallery and you’ll find tons of grainy, haphazardly framed images of sandwiches that failed to inspire me. A cavalcade of uninspiring sandwiches.

It’s not that they weren’t good. Plenty of them were delicious.

It’s just — I don’t know how to say this… I think writing about sandwiches may have gotten into my head. I bite into my lunch and instead of thinking, “mmm delicious sandwich,” I think, “OK, how does this compare on my arbitrary numerical rating system to other sandwiches I’ve eaten?” And, “what can I write about this sandwich that I haven’t yet written about a dozen other sandwiches?”

How did this happen? It was supposed to be about the sandwiches.

Wait, let me rephrase that: It was supposed to be about me enjoying the sandwiches. That’s the main thing. Writing about that enjoyment is secondary. No offense.

That’s all a long-winded way of saying I don’t think I can promise Sandwich of the Week weekly anymore. I wouldn’t feel the need to bother explaining except whenever I do any sort of survey, it turns out that it’s a popular feature.

I will still review sandwiches — and indeed, still call them “Sandwich of the Week.”  But since it has gotten to the point that I’m looking for sandwiches that might be interesting to write about instead of sandwiches I think will be delicious, it’s probably time to dial back.

Cracking under the pressure. Totally unclutch.

Anyway, just because they won’t come every week anymore doesn’t mean there won’t be plenty of sandwich talk here. Maybe some weeks there’ll be two. Who knows? And I’d still very much appreciate your sandwich recommendations.

The sandwich: The Serrano from Bierkraft, 5th Avenue and Berkeley Pl., Brooklyn.

The construction: Serrano ham, manchego cheese, arugula, fig jam, sherry vinegar and olive oil on a ciabatta hero.

Important background information: I probably went into Bierkraft about 20 times when I lived in the area, usually to get fancy beer for my father. I had no idea they even made sandwiches until multiple people started recommending them to me after I moved. C’mon people, get your timing right.

Also, I confess I ordered the Serrano because I thought it would be more interesting to write about than the more traditional-seeming Italian hero on the menu, the direction I normally would have gone. Pitiful.

What it looks like:

How it tastes: Most notably, like fig jam.

There are a lot of strong flavors on here, right: Serrano ham is like the Spanish version of prosciutto, so I expected saltiness from that, and the earthiness of manchego cheese and tartness from the vinegar.

Eventually, all those flavors sort of showed up, but none matched the fig jam in strength or persistence. Man… did this sandwich-maker just have a heavy hand with the fig jam, or is this really strong fig jam?

Maybe now is a good time to mention that I don’t much care for figs, which might trivialize my opinions on this sandwich. My wife loves ’em, and she loved the half of this sandwich I saved for her. I find them a little too goopy sweet unless they’re in delicious Newton form.

Still, I don’t exactly hate them, and I figured a nice hint of sweetness from fig jam might nicely complement an otherwise salty and tart sandwich. And at points, it did — there were bites of this sandwich that were great, when the flavors of the ham and cheese and fig came together as something special. But too often all I tasted was fig jam. I never really tasted the vinegar, incidentally.

The bread, I should note, was awesome. Really hearty stuff, itself a meal.

What it’s worth: $10, but it comes with Zapp’s chips, which are awesome.

How it rates: 74 out of 100, but it’s probably better if you like figs and you’re not mired in a sandwich-writing slump. The quality of the ingredients at Bierkraft was good enough that I’ll have to give it another go now that I’ve sorted all this out and can just order the Italian one.