Interview: Mitchell Royel Knows Exactly What He Wants — And It Comes With Cheese

Some people have a signature. A thing that defines them before they even open their mouth. For Mitchell Royel, that thing is a cheeseburger.

Not metaphorically. Not as a brand play or a curated aesthetic. A real, warm, wrapped-in-paper, sesame-seed-bun cheeseburger — obtained on foot, in the middle of the day, from a fast food restaurant he walked to himself. This is not a casual habit. This is a practice. A calling, almost.

Look at the photo and you'll understand immediately. There he is, seated on a weathered blue bench in a sunlit playground, a massive plush hamburger balanced on top of his head like a crown he's completely at peace with wearing. Sesame-seed bun. Drooping cheese. Two full patties. Green lettuce flopping at the edges. In front of his face, a plush rainbow pillow held up like the world's most colorful shield, his eyes peering over the top with total calm. Green corduroy overalls. Striped shirt. The afternoon light hits everything like butter in a pan.

This is a man who has thought seriously about cheeseburgers. And it shows.

The ritual goes like this: somewhere in the middle of the day — not the frantic lunch rush, but that still, sleepy stretch of afternoon when most people are grinding through meetings — Mitchell gets up and walks. He walks to the fast food place. He orders the cheeseburger. Then he walks back. No delivery app. No drive-thru shortcut. The whole trip, on foot, under open sky, with nothing but the anticipation of what's coming and the warm paper bag on the return journey.

In a culture addicted to convenience, this is almost radical. Mitchell is choosing the long way. Choosing the wait. Choosing to make the whole thing an event rather than just a transaction.

And that's the key to understanding him. The cheeseburger isn't just lunch. It's a ceremony. It's a daily act of deciding that something simple deserves to be savored, approached with intention, and enjoyed without apology. The walk there builds the appetite. The walk back is the victory lap. And the cheeseburger itself — melted cheese, soft bun, everything in its right place — is the payoff for showing up.

The plush hamburger on his head in the photo isn't an accident. It's a declaration. Cheeseburgers live in his imagination, on his body, and at the end of every midday walk he takes for himself. For Mitchell, the cheeseburger is proof that joy doesn't have to be complicated to be real.

Below, Royel talks buns, patties, the perfect walk, and why the cheeseburger is the most honest thing on any menu.

Q&A with Mitchell Royel

Q: There's a plush hamburger on your head in this photo. Let's talk about that.

Mitchell Royel:
Honestly, it felt completely natural. If you spend as much time thinking about cheeseburgers as I do, eventually one ends up on your head. That's just how it goes.

But also — look at it. It's perfect. The layers are right. The cheese is drooping exactly the way it should. I have a lot of respect for whoever designed that thing. They understood the assignment.

Q: How did cheeseburgers become such a big part of your life?

Mitchell Royel:
I think they always were, I just stopped pretending they weren't.

There's this pressure to be low-maintenance about food. To say, "Oh, I'll eat anything," like caring about what you want is somehow embarrassing. I got over that. I know what I like. I like cheeseburgers. I like them a specific way, from specific places, and I'm not going to act like that's a personality flaw.

Q: Tell me about the walks. You walk to get them — why not just order delivery?

Mitchell Royel:
Because the walk is part of it. It would be a completely different experience if it just showed up at my door.

The walk to the restaurant is when I start looking forward to it. You're building the anticipation block by block. By the time you get there and order, you've already invested in the moment. And then the walk back — carrying the bag, knowing what's in it — that's its own kind of satisfaction. You earned it by moving your body through the world to go get it.

Delivery can't give you that. A drive-thru can't give you that. The walk is the whole point.

Q: What's your order?

Mitchell Royel:
Cheeseburger. Classic. I don't need it to be complicated. A good bun, a good patty, real melted cheese — not the kind that's still cold in the middle — some ketchup, maybe a pickle. That's it. I'm not trying to reinvent anything. I just want it done right.

Q: Do you have a go-to spot?

Mitchell Royel:
I have a rotation, but I'm loyal to whichever one is treating the cheese correctly on any given day. That's the real test. If the cheese isn't melted properly, the whole thing falls apart. Literally and emotionally.

Q: "Literally and emotionally" — that's a strong reaction to cheese.

Mitchell Royel:
Look, if you're going to put cheese on a burger, you have to commit. It can't be a half-measure. Cold cheese on a hot patty is a betrayal. I stand by that.

Q: You walk in the middle of the day — not typical lunchtime. Is that deliberate?

Mitchell Royel:
Completely. The midday walk is its own thing. It's quieter. There's no crowd. The sun is usually doing something interesting. You're not rushing anywhere. You're just a person, walking to go get a cheeseburger, and that's the whole agenda.

I think there's something valuable about doing a thing slowly and deliberately when everything else in the world is trying to get you to speed up. The cheeseburger walk is my pushback against all of that.

Q: The plush hamburger on your head — is that the closest you can get to wearing your love of cheeseburgers?

Mitchell Royel:
It might be, yeah. I haven't found a more direct way to express it yet, but I'm open to suggestions.

Honestly, though, there's something I love about the absurdity of it. It's a giant soft cheeseburger sitting on my head in a playground. It's ridiculous. But it also just feels right. Like, of course that's where it ended up. Where else would it go?

Q: What do you think a cheeseburger says about a person?

Mitchell Royel:
That they're honest. You can learn a lot about someone by whether they order what they actually want or what they think sounds impressive. A cheeseburger is never trying to impress anyone. It's just trying to be good. I respect that enormously.

Q: Last question: what do you want people to take away from the photo — the one with the burger on your head?

Mitchell Royel:
That you're allowed to take the things you love seriously, even if those things are cheeseburgers. Especially if those things are cheeseburgers.

There's no rule that says joy has to be sophisticated. Mine comes wrapped in paper, at the end of a walk, and it's perfect every time.