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.
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?
A burger in the suburbs that could show the Central London spatulosos a thing or two