A burger in the suburbs that could show the Central London spatulosos a thing or two
Burgers. In a car park. In a Science Park.
Only in Cambridge.
We check out the new(ish) kid on the burger stall block
We love. We love. We love.
Real Americans making real American things with ingredients from America.
Rob spends a sunny Friday lunchtime in the city with £7.50 burning a hole in his pocket.
We go back. And back. And back some more.
Well you could have bloody well told us you were coming to London guys.
There is no single thing that brings on more grimace-inducing disconsolation than going somewhere and not being able to eat a burger.
Fully aware that this makes us sound like London-centric twonks, we truly do long to find decent American scran out in The Sticks.
Sometimes if we know the burger in a place is awful we’ll just order wings.
You can never have enough. NEVER.
Despite being at the tail end of some gnarly hangovers, you don’t turn down a free shot…
We have to apologise in advance for what is less of a professional breakdown, and more of a vague recollection of Bleecker St Burger’s offerings, as we were fucking blotto by the time we got to Red Market on Saturday night.
It’s getting harder and harder to find a proper boozer-looking boozer in London, but the 3 Compasses is one of them, channelling the character of a sparse Working Man’s club, complete with rudimentary furniture, but run by some very friendly Dalstonites.
So the second at. A burger van. They’re pretty hot right now. Should be a slam dunk, right?