As St. Louis hangouts go, the Delmar Loop is near the top of the list. The heart of this cultural, entertainment and restaurant district stretches for six blocks along Delmar Boulevard, and one of the establishments that caught my eye on a first spin through the Loop was Blueberry Hill.

The place certainly has a pedigree. The Two Diamond rated restaurant has been around since 1972, and it’s named after the iconic song first recorded in 1940. Everyone from Glenn Miller to Louis Armstrong to Elvis to Little Richard to Andy Williams has taken a crack at “Blueberry Hill,” but of course Fats Domino sang the definitive version. And remember on “Happy Days” when Ron Howard aka Richie Cunningham would warble that trademark first line in reference to his romantic conquests?

But I’m getting a little bit ahead of myself. Blueberry Hill is a music club that brings in well-known rock, blues and country musicians. The name on the marquee when I visited is one of the biggest: St. Louis native and the “father of rock ’n roll,” Chuck Berry (still going strong at age 83!). Blueberry Hill is also a restaurant serving everything from jerk chicken to trout almondine to comfort bowls of chili mac.

You have to love the ambiance. This place is down home, funky and absolutely packed with pop culture memorabilia. A moose head adorns one wall; on another are vintage album covers (Buddy Holly, the Ronettes, “Meet the Beatles,” “Tattoo You”). There are toy fire trucks, vintage lunch boxes, old baseball cards, Sgt. Pepper dolls, “Star Wars” figures, Wayne and Garth from “Wayne’s World,” postcards, neon signs and well, much more. You can play darts and pinball. And the jukebox is top shelf, as it should be; “Ride Captain Ride” and “Tell Me Something Good” were two of the stone classics that played while I was there.

My friend and I slid into a high-backed, comfortably scarred wooden booth. (Ask to be seated in one of the non-smoking rooms if you don’t fancy your lunch with a side of cigarette smoke.) Local polls have voted Blueberry Hill’s burger the city’s best, and that’s definitely what I wanted to try. I requested mine well done, with grilled onions (50 cents extra), and also ordered a cup of chicken noodle soup. My friend ordered the veggie burger. We then settled in for a wait, as the burgers are cooked to order and the menu advises that a well-done one takes 20 to 25 minutes.

My iced tea arrived first and was watered down, not necessarily a sign of great things to come. The chicken noodle soup, which also included a couple of carrot pieces floating in the lemon-accented broth, tasted pretty good, but I finished it off in less than two minutes—not a whole lot there. The burger was perfectly acceptable, and it was indeed cooked to order, with the requisite grill flavor. The sesame seed bun had a touch of character, the lettuce leaf and tomato slice were perfunctory, and the little plastic cup of limp grilled onions was utterly superfluous. The accompanying fries were just okay, and not very bounteous. They did, however, come in one of those little cardboard boats, just like the good old days. My friend pronounced his veggie burger delicious, but he’s easier to please than I am.

So instead of Fats Domino, the tune playing in my head was by another legend, B.B. King. The thrill wasn’t gone, but it didn’t exactly burn bright. However, for $5.95 (that’s the burger only, mind you) I wasn’t going to complain too much, and the very cool atmosphere beats the fast food anonymity of Burger King or Wendy’s by miles.

Make sure you check out the Walk of Fame. Imbedded in the sidewalk are bronze stars honoring celebrated individuals born in or associated with the St. Louis area—everyone from baseball great Yogi Berra to blue-eyed soulster Michael McDonald to sexologists William Howell Masters and Virginia Eshelman Johnson. Chuck Berry’s star is right in front of the club, near the one for “Hot in Herre” rapper Nelly.