[REVIEW] Ribs, Pulled Pork Sliders and Burgers / Duke’s Brew and Que / Haggerston, London
We wanted a huge bowl of the pulled pork
From the outside, Dukes Brew and Que wouldn’t look out of place in an episode of Jeeves & Wooster, squeezed between a building wrapped in scaffolding and a council estate in Hackney-but-still-the-rough-bit Haggerston. The juxtaposition is evident inside as a throng of well dressed 9-to-5ers mob the bar, leaving the local drunk looking bewildered. Poor bloke, he only wants a pint of fucking bitter. Later, when he bowls up to bar for another scoop, the front of house will try and give his tiny table by the window away to a trendy young couple, and he will not be best pleased.
That’s the thing - it is a boozer, with most of the crowd queuing at the bar for one of the impressive selection of beers here solely for that reason (our pale ale loving compadre was ecstatic). But it’s also a restaurant. An arguably good balance. And yet, we are still a bit disconcerted since the FOH lady chooses to ignore us and we find our pre-booked table on our own and wait a good ten minutes before the waitress decides to give us the time of day. In short, it looks like a pub, but it’s definitely a restaurant. Not much space for those just there for the sauce.
The menu is a bit odd for somewhere touting itself as a barbecue place - there is a lot of steak going on, and a burger. And the only pulled pork available is housed within in ‘sliders’. They’ve also committed the cardinal “mission statement” sin as you can see from the picture above.
We ordered everything vaguely barbecue, and a burger.
Let’s start with that burger. The patty was thick, moist and packed a distinctly barbecue flavour, almost as if it had been smoked itself, which was quite novel. The sauce with it was fresh and spicy sweet, and the bun did a stand up job housing the lot. Yep, it was a barbecue burger, of sorts, and whilst not mind-blowing, it wasn’t bad. It did taste a bit like a frankfurter though, which some of you might find some disconcerting.
On to the ribs. The pork were pleasingly big, pink and chewy. The beef ribs were heavier on the gristle and didn’t quite have enough fat to keep them as palatable, or enough sauce to keep them moist.
Both of them however were criminally sweet, and we have a theory about it. Duke’s clearly have some kind of Memphis-style house rub they’re applying to all their ribs, be they cow or pig. We think that once they’ve been smoked, they’re re-dunked into the rub and flash-grilled so the sugar caramelises just before they’re sent out. Now, this is a problem. The dark sugary bark does indeed look really good, but there is an overwhelming caramel taste and smell to both types of rib.
Worse than that, the flash-nature of that grilling means you get the odd grain of sugar stuck between your teeth, which gives it that shuddering granulated sugar crunch that is far from pleasant. We’re fine with sweetness in ‘cue, but the sugar itself should not be identifiable by texture.
Gross.
All is not lost though. The best thing by a country fried mile were the pulled pork sliders - dinky little gems of moist pulled pork topped with a zingy slaw, served in a brilliant dinky brioche bun. We all agreed a big daddy version of one of these would have been epic. Unfortunately, the fact that you only get three of them in a mains serving is ultimately too stingy.
We wanted a huge bowl of the pulled pork and it’s just not an option on the menu.
The sides were fine, the only disappointment being the mac ‘n cheese. The pasta was topped with lots of rubbery grilled cheese without any real evidence of a proper cheese sauce. Macaroni with cheese if you will. Amateurish.
They’ve clearly done their USA BBQ research too, they’ve got the rolls of greaseproof paper right, but the menu feels focus-grouped to death (steak, steak, steak). Duke’s guys - do what you know you can do.
Duke’s is going to draw inevitable comparisons with Pitt Cue Co (which we will be reviewing soon): everything is served similarly, on similar trays, with a similar slaw side, with that familiar New/Old Filament Lightbulb Aesthetic.
But we’re not going to bother - the subtlety and complexity of Pitt Cue’s flavours, crossed with its significantly lower cost and more convenient location really doesn’t warrant one.
- Rob & Simon.
[REVIEW / ON TOUR] Brisket, Ribs, Pulled Pork / Franklin Barbecue / Austin, TX
The ‘best in the world’ lists it features on are definitely deserved.
“So where are you guys from?” grins Aaron Franklin as he de-foils a healthy looking brisket and brandishes a rather large knife. He asks me how I like my brisket. I immediately respond by asking him how I should like it.
Fatty, he says. You want the fatty end. He slices it in half, lifts it up and gives it a little squeeze. Juices run clear. My hours of waiting melt away. It all suddenly seems worth it. It is shortly after midday. And fuck me I’m starving.
I completely over order.
“You guys don’t have anything like this at home.” he says, with a glint in his eye. “You can only get this in Texas.”
Confident, much?
Naturally I bristle a tad at that comment. I don’t think he’d be very interested in me extolling the virtues of Pitt Cue Co. I take my big tray of meat and sit on the terrace outside. John Hodgman of the Daily Show and various podcastery goodness is there eating ribs. Anthony Bourdain is there too with his “No Reservations” film crew. He’s holding court in the centre of the room with a healthy plate of meat, posing for photos with fans. It’s all a bit Rolling Stones, but with more sausage. I analyse the three different bottles of sauce on the table. I take some photos. Before I’ve eaten anything it’s already a unique experience.
The important thing to remember is that as Brits, we collectively know fuck all about proper barbeque. Nothing. We’re a nation of grillers, of carbon charrers and of awful supermarket sauce. The opportunity to taste one of the absolute best in the heart of BBQ country is very exciting. It’s also our duty to report back and help influence what’s being done at home.
Much of my memory of Franklin BBQ is the waiting. Of anticipation. Of worry that Bourdain’s SLR-toting crew will have polished it all off before I get in there. They did have to queue with everyone else, there is no quick way to get in. My first queue pal is a New York startup guy in boxfresh Vans who’s just sold his company and isn’t sure what to do next. Something to do with ads. B2B. “You wouldnt have heard of it”. Very South By.
Behind me is a woman with two kids, both under five. She is married to someone that works here but doesn’t confess to “being a BBQ person”. She’s still enough of one to brave this line though. And again, marriage doesn’t entitle you to a queue dodge.
It’s 10.45am when I arrive. The queue has already snaked down the hill into the car park. I’m flabbergasted. I knew it would be busy, especially during festival week, but this is ridiculous. The two students in front of me say that on weekends, a 9am start is required if you want some of the fabled brisket. There is much chatter about Bourdain, who is a good sixty to seventy people in front of us. I can just about make out his silver head in the distance. The queue doesn’t seem to be moving much. I don’t really understand why, since there’s no enforced sit-down policy here. Surely some of these folks must be getting take-out.
I turn to Twitter.
If that Bourdain guy eats all the brisket before I get in there, I will fight him.
— Burger Anarchy (@BurgerAnarchy) March 13, 2012
A pixie-faced girl appears from the building dressed in an apron, Converse, stripy tights and a snug woollen beanie hat. It’s over eighty degrees. And it’s humid.
She tells us that the ‘Last Man Standing’ is a good twenty people ahead. It’s very unlikely we’ll get any brisket. Maybe some pulled pork or turkey if we’re lucky. Up until this point I thought Last Man Standing was a fairly poor Bruce Willis movie. But no, there is a guy and he is wearing a sign emblazoned with those three words. Whispers spread up and down the queue. The thirty people behind me disappear almost immediately. I choose to stay, knowing that this is my last chance to eat here for the foreseeable future. More people appear, some willing to risk it, others immediately getting back into the cars and heading somewhere else. By the time we reach the stairs I know my queue buddies fairly well. We all share a passion for meat - the tourists are long gone - so the conversation is good. A member of staff appears with an icebox of beer, a $2 Lone Star is mine. It’s 11.30.
Once we’re into the afternoon the door gets tantalisingly close. We’re still not guaranteed a full menu. The beanie girl pixie reappears out of nowhere and screams at the top of her voice “More brisket!”. The queue roars in response. We are all relieved. Maybe Bourdain wasn’t very hungry.
Spirits now lifted by the promise of a full menu, we get inside. The menu is stuck up on the wall, written on the same paper they use to wrap up the takeaway meat.
Immediately I’m over-excited. This is a once-off opportunity, so I should order nearly everything. I discuss menu strategy with my queue buddies. The brisket is certainly the most famous and geographically relevant (Texas is all about the beef), but there’s pork, beef ribs, turkey and sausages too. Not that interested in the sides. Startup guy says he’s just going to order all the meats. It’s his birthday. He’s here on his own. I offer a slightly weak ‘Happy Birthday’ in response.
Once we’re at the front, we’re amazed that it is actually the Aaron Franklin serving all the meat. Every customer is given his full attention. There’s idle chit-chat. Everyone tells him how excited they are to be there. Regulars are greeted like family. There’s absolutely no urgency despite the queue. I guess it’s such a super-advanced queue, it’s evolved way beyond any other queue.
We buy all the meat we can and find a nice spot on the deck.
The Meat
First I try everything without any sauce. The brisket is indeed special. Back home it’s become all trendy again which is at odds with the nice rolled pink Sunday roast ideal. Most brisket I’ve had is hard to get the best out of. It’s leathery. It’s easy to over season it. It’s hard to get the smoky flavour to penetrate sufficiently. Aaron’s brisket is soft. It’s oozing. The fibres break apart in a way I’ve not experienced before. The meat itself has that deep smoke flavour you’ve always dreamed was possible.
The pork ribs are pink. They’ve been cooked so incredibly slowly that the bone flops out when I pick them up. Pork isn’t standard BBQ fare here in Texas so it’s great to see so many pork dishes here. The pulled pork (which we’ve seen Aaron pull by hand in front of us) is superb. I get into the sauces - the darkest of which is my immediate favourite. It’s all coffee and treacle.
The meat doesn’t even need it but the sauce tops off each meat and accentuates flavour rather than disguising it. The only real disappointment is the turkey. Because it’s, well, turkey.
Texas tradition
Aaron is a relative newbie. Austin locals are notoriously hard on new restaurants, especially BBQ. What he’s achieved in the space of three short years has taken everyone else decades. This makes him the posterchild of new wave BBQ, and the fact he’s done it in the heartland is all the more impressive. It just goes to show, after all the talk and posturing and secret recipes, it’s nerdy food obsession that wins plaudits, fans, ‘top 5’ magazine articles and the mother of all queues.
If you’re in Austin (blag a SXSW trip, seriously) and you care enough about meat, or at least want to know just how good BBQ can get, then I wholeheartedly recommend the Franklin experience. The ‘best in the world’ lists it features on are definitely deserved. If you’re a queue hater and don’t understand why the hell someone would wait that long for a bog standard cut of beef they’re forced to eat for elevenses, then you probably haven’t read this far.
- Simon.
★[REVIEW] The Ari Gold & Jose Jose / Patty & Bun / Doodle Bar, Battersea, London
“The ever-improving standard of the brioche burger bun is a heartening thing, and this is one of the better examples”
It’s the era of the pop up, and burger pop ups in particular. Every week it seems we hear about another one. This is a great thing, but their limited life span means that pesky real life commitments can get in the way of checking them all out. But where possible, we will hit these places up with a vengeance. So to just South of the river, and the bowels of Doodle Bar, to see what the latest brainchild of Street Kitchen is all about.
Doodle Bar is a South London attempt at East London warehouse drinking - it has all the trademarks of warehouse chic (the wide open, semi-open space) with all the nuances of a fancy pants bar (pre-distressed furniture, brushed steel lighting, and actual toilets). It has a table tennis table. It even has a huge wall with blackboard paint you can draw on with chalk! A great spot to wireframe your next killer iOS app then.
All this seems to please the impeccably dressed clientele inside. But enough of the scene setting. From the menu, you know you are getting the ‘pride in our produce’ style of burger, with each ingredient ingredient described in painstaking detail. We went for the Ari Gold with bacon and the Jose Jose.
The service is slick as can be, everyone knowing their role, each section manned with military precision - They even have a dude with his own grill just for toasting buns. Ridiculous. But shit, they are efficient and we had our burgers in well under 10 minutes. This is a massive surprise compared to other, more shitshowy, burger popups.
Opening the branded container, the Ari Gold looked impressive; the shiny bun radiating a come-hither glisten. But, hold up, wait a second: the trepidation begins to mount as we see the translucent-yet-electric-pink onions poking out. Not letting first impression get the better of us, we chow down.
It’s pretty good. The ever-improving standard of the brioche burger bun is a heartening thing, and this is one of the better examples - bouncy and airy, yet solid, it’s a great host for the Gold’s contents. The patty was proper quality meat and was cooked impeccable accuracy across all four burgers we ordered. Impressive.
But, and here come the buts: the cheese was dying to play a more prominent role, but there just wasn’t enough of it. The slices we saw them putting on the patty being just too thin to distinguish themselves. The onions sadly justified the worry; they weren’t just vinegary, they were the physical embodiment of vinegar. Eye-scrunchingly tart when trying them on their own. They were joined by the signature barbecue mayo sauce (more mayo than barbecue) that was abundant. Both of these strong flavours, whilst kind of working with each other, floored the beef somewhat. The addition of the bacon didn’t add anything to the mix, but banging a standard rasher into a burger with such flavours, what do you expect? And forking out more cash for it, not worth it.
Although the ingredients listed in the Jose Jose promised a very contrasting experience, what we got offered no real discernible difference. All that we could figure had changed was that the rocket has been replaced by loose leaf lettuce and the barbecue mayo with a more traditional barbecue sauce which only flecked glimpses of the chorizo that the menu promised.
These are solid, saucy burgers, with great buns. They ain’t cheap, but ain’t a rip off. Worth a pop down for the next couple of Fridays.
- Rob.
★[REVIEW] MEATliquor / London
He’s selling something we all really missed without knowing it: a proper hamburger.
If you haven’t been yet, you’ve read about it, or been told about MEATliquor.
It’s become synonymous with the new wave of London eating, and this widespread recognition has been hadron-collider-fast.
We’d had a few chats with co-founder Yianni on our many, many visits through the /wagon and /easy days, so when we heard that MEATliquor would be coming soon, we altercated at length about what it would be, and what we hoped it would be: a place having the hallmarks of a proper American dive bar (darkness, redness, occasionally shirty service and loud music), but in London, that served all the meticulously researched and recreated Americana of the previous MEATporiums.
The food
The Meatwagon / Meateasy classics are there, and they are, for the most part, sublime: The Bacon Cheeseburger is an art form in itself, and a must-order on a first visit. These are take ‘em as they come, greasy, juicy, messy beasts. Likewise with the saucy, tacky chilli cheese fries, which balance the not too saucy chilli with the gloopy cheese, made in such a way that they coat the fries without making them soggy. Cheesy alchemy.
The Mac ‘n cheese has had a revamp and the new model is now saucier, and dirty-cheesier than before; exceptional. Forks will clash.
And some new dishes are stealing the limelight too, like the fried pickles, which are a tangy-crunch slap in the face, or the buffalo chicken burger which is flat-out phenomenal - like a mahoosive boneless buffalo wing, in a bun.
Timing is Everything
Consistency, or indeed the lack of it, appears to be putting first-timers off a bit (if the twittersphere is anything to go by).
We have to admit, it has happened to us too.
Our first experience of the newly added Mushroom Swiss was disappointing - the meat had not been seasoned and the mildness of the Swiss cheese and mushrooms resulted in a blandness that not even the red onions and extra pickle could save. But on second tasting a much better job had been done and it tasted pretty decent, although it’s still one of the lesser burgers in their ever increasing repertoire. A friend of B/A shared a similar experience, where a Dead Hippie was missing key ingredients.
The Queue
It’s fucking long, it starts early and it’s a clear deterrent. But let’s get some perspective.
If you’ve been to San Francisco in the last few years and tried to visit any of the popular restaurants, then you’ll know first hand what queues can be. You queue for brunch, for coffee, for sandwiches, hell, even for ice cream. The same thing happens in Foursquare paradise New York City. Just take Shake Shack in Madison Square Park. It’s the new cultural barometer for good chow: if there’s a queue outside, it’s probably worth queuing for. Remember the Long Table Market in Dalston before Christmas? Yeah.
ML takes the same approach. The only genuine gripe is the setup doesn’t suit it. Were it a classic fast food joint then things would work better; more covers would be in and out and the overall atmosphere would be less flustered. The choice of it being like a dive bar, but in reality being a restaurant, makes for a culture clash that makes it neither. You can’t finish up your food and while away the evening working your way down the impressive cocktail list without feeling a bit guilty for all those queued up in the cold outside.
It doesn’t bother us too much, since we’ve always taken an ‘eat and get the hell out’ approach with ML and the #MEATEASY before it. A quick scan around the room though and you can tell that Londoners want to linger, or at least spend as much time inside as they did in the queue.
But what does it all mean?
MEATliquor is a compilation restaurant. A greatest hits.
It imitates the best of what Yianni has had in America and recreates it for London. He is the ultimate English fanboy of American food. The crusader that actually does his fucking research, goes in the kitchen and reproduces what he liked over there as best he can.
There aren’t any original dishes here. The bacon cheeseburger’s roots are from Hodad’s in San Diego (see our review). The deep fried pickles are a mainstay in diners across the West coast. The chilli burger is an interpretation of the Bobcat Burger from Bobcat Bite in New Mexico. The buffalo wings are, well, buffalo wings. There’s even talk of jalapeño poppers - another classic bar food being tested for the recently confirmed second venue, MEATmarket, in Covent Garden.
To be clear, these greasy facsimiles are No Bad Thing. In fact, it’s not been done successfully before, which is a large part of explaining their success. Every ‘American’ burger joint has been a parody run by people who don’t seem to have ever eaten a sandwich in America. And then there’s your stubbornly English burgers, doled out by the likes of Byron, Giraffe and gastropubs up and down the Northern line. But they are still stiff-upper-lipped versions of a Yankee Doodle archetype. Unlike its rivals, Meatliquor is not designed to please everyone. Yianni is a master craftsman of some of the most iconic dishes America has to offer, and judging by our experience on both sides of the pond, it’s not preposterous to say he would be considered that in America too. He’s selling something we all really missed without knowing it: a proper hamburger.
The Future
MEATmarket’s announcement confirms they’ve proven their market and can keep going from here. All of the MEATenterprises have benefited from a hyper-connected, drooling, price conscious fanbase, and their slow but sure approach to growth will stand them in good stead.
The implications for the London restaurant scene are already unfolding: the queues at Pitt Cue down the road, residencies from foodtrucks in pubs (like Lucky Chip at the Sebright Arms, or Kimchi Cult at the Rose & Crown in Walthamstow). The long-established faux diners are desperately trying to change their menus to resemble something similar (and actually authentic) so they can compete - they didn’t pull their tube socks up quickly enough. Nobody is talking about The Diner, or Ed’s Easy Diner. Byron continue to expand aggressively into every corner of London they possibly can and risk becoming the Pizza Express poster-child of burgers.
The restaurant groups must be scratching their heads still; the buzz Yianni and Scott can generate without expensive PR agencies fudging it for them must be annoying for the well-funded big guns. It’s not a big secret though: all you need is a good product.
But what of the ‘wagon?
The big difference between us and America is the upgrade path. The dream here is different. Compare the successful foodtrucks of Los Angeles and you get a different picture - they’re proud of their mobility. If anything, their strategy is more trucks in more locations. Kogi BBQ is the shining example of this. Their daily matrix of serving locations covers the entire LA Metro area. It’s quite the operation.
London is not blessed with the same mercifully laid back food trading laws. And that’s why a proper home makes sense. But we’re sad the ‘wagon has disappeared from view. Here’s hoping it reappears again this summer.
We bloody love what they’re doing. Shocker, huh? Had we the time, money and inclination, it’s exactly what we would do too. It’s having a domino effect on the quality of American food across the South East, and it’ll be interesting to see if the influence reaches beyond the M25.
The name of this very blog means we’re inherently biased, but we don’t think burgers are a trend. We’ve always loved burgers; since we were tiny, and we always will. It’s just that the good ones were something you’d only ever get on holiday. To use marketing wonk-speak, that’s the gamechanger here. Timing is everything, and Yianni continues to get his freakishly right.
MEATliquor is our version of Arnold’s - the first port of call whenever a meeting place is required anywhere in the vicinity of Central London. We’ll go there for ALL of the food, some of the food, or only for drinks - even if it means having to buy the cheapest thing on the menu to meet their have-to-order-food-to-drink license. The only bone of contention is who gets to be the Fonz…
We like it, you might not. We’ll see you in there.
- Simon & Rob.
★[REVIEW] All Three Burgers / Brewdog / Camden, London
“I myself will own up to being a terrible burger chef. My burgers always turn out too dry, or else they are so moist they just fall apart; I have a tendency to choose the wrong bun and cheese; and my topping-to-meat ratio is usually off. The only thing I’m good at is making sauces for my burgers, but that’s cheating. There is a certain alchemy to a good burger that I don’t understand, and that’s part of why I really love I good burger joint burger.”
Tim Anderson, Masterchef winner and all-round good dude, writing about burgers on his blog in 2009.
Our first official burger of 2012 took us to the first London bolthole of punk rock Scottish craft brewers, Brewdog. We’d heard that its short ‘n sweet burger ‘n pizza menu had been designed by none other than Tim Anderson.
You know Tim. Off the telly. Beer geek. Proper palate skills. Terrifyingly knowledgeable. Has cooked at the Fat Duck and Noma and other places starred to the hilt. He’s a Wisconsinite, so he has a proper home ice advantage with American fare. With just three burgers on the menu we thought we’d give them all a go out of courtesy, and also because they’re really sodding cheap.
The burgers came out closed and already cut in half, which we thought was awfully polite of them as it made the proceeding obligatory burger split photos much quicker and easier.
First we tried the Cheeseburger, known as the Los Feliz. Now, this is one thoroughly enjoyable burger. While the beef is pretty compact, visibly pre-prepped and not specifically memorable taste-wise, the overall package makes it a relishable prospect. The Punk IPA sauce looks like a Marie Rose but tastes like a mild Thousand Island nuzzled up to a Franco American mustard, and even some wasabi in there somewhere. It coats the underbelly of the burger with a tickly heat but doesn’t overpower it. Alchemy.
Plus, they totally lob it on the top and bottom bun, making the end product saucy in a gratefully American way; all too rare here in London. The cheese was dirty and deftly melted, combining with the wicked-smart sauce.
On to the Curry Burger. It also has a name. We can’t remember it though, because by then we were a few ales in. Although this may seem like a bleedin’ obvious statement, it actually tasted like a mouthful of beefy curry.
Nice one, Tim. It’s a genuine one-of-a-kind.
The spicy heat-laden patty is surrounded by a sweet, tangy chutney and a fresh cucumber yoghurt, with some cheese thrown in for good measure. No burger is complete without it, am I right? Uncannily curry-like and burger-ish simultaneously, this surprised and delighted the table.
Finally, the pork burger. The most expensive by fifty pence or so, it’s a chunky puck of minced pork with a sauerkraut base, pickle and plenty of mustard. The vinegar hit was on the money here, a brilliantly unsubtle accompaniment for the beers on offer, but ultimately this was our least favourite of the three.
It occurred to us very quickly that at £4.95, the Los Feliz is the best budget cheeseburger in London. It’s cheaper than the competition and the closest to a proper American budget cheeseburger yet, without any faux gastro posturing. And if that’s not your thing, the curry burger makes other attempts at novelty burgers just flat-out embarrassing.
We highly recommend Brewdog if you need a place to eat a decent burger and sup a quality IPA before going to see the latest post-Gothcore math-dubstep band at the Underworld.
And what pre-fame Tim wrote back in 2009? We think he’s cracked it.
- Simon
- Rob (And even though it weirds me out to say it, being the purists we are, I’d probably go for the curry one if you have to choose. But i’d recommend you take someone else and split that and the cheeseburger. They cut them in half for fuck’s sake, it’s practically a share request!)
Special thanks to Friend of B/A Pete for helping us with this one.
★[REVIEW / ON TOUR] The SoCal Burger / Umami Burger / Santa Monica, CA / Fifth Taste Hits Top Five
“No unsettling flavour combinations or trickery. It’s just a good burger. Craft over science.”
I was in somewhat of a touchy mood when we finally arrived at the Santa Monica branch of this rapidly growing little chain (there are five outposts in LA now, with more on the way). Principally, because nothing on the website tells you it’s in a fucking Fred Segal store, and partly, because Google Maps sucks. So we walked circled a couple of blocks for fifteen minutes trying to find it.
So, note to any non Santa Monica residents looking for this place, if you see spot Fred fucking Segal, you’ve found it.
I ordered the SoCal burger and my dining companion ordered the Manly Burger (because he so is). When they arrived they looked brilliant, like straight-out-of-the-dressing-room pretty. Mood swiftly reversed.
The bun gets top billing here, as it’s amongst the best I’ve ever tasted, probably THE best.
It’s got the shine of a brioche (with their signature ‘U’ toasted into the top half), but isn’t really a brioche. It’s chewy, but super-squidgy. Substantial, but not stodgy. A superb example of how well a burger bun can be made.
And there’s definitely a can’t-quite-put-my-finger-on-it extra dimensional taste to the patty that makes it unique, an almost kinda hint of gravy. That signature umami. Hard to describe without over-hyphenating.
You can see from the pictures the meat is soft and ever so loosely formed; the result being it crumbles away in your mouth after each bite, mingling with everything else in the burger: the full hit in every bite. The consistency of the cheese is spot on and the house sauce, a homage to In ‘n Out’s ‘Spread’ if I’m not mistaken, adds a fresh tang without overwhelming it.
The only terribly small issue: the loose grind of the meat and the slightly anaemic bottom bun caused the burger to fall apart about three quarters of the way through, so the final few bites were frantic, morsel-rescuing mouthfuls.
The Manly Burger, their take on a bacon cheeseburger - with it’s thick lardons and crispy onion strings - looked, and apparently tasted, bloody epic.
There’s certainly a touch of Heston Blumenthalerie in the way these guys go about experimenting with different flavours and ingredients, not to mention their namesake fifth taste. The dude that owns the chain certainly talks almost evangelically about the painstaking construction of each burger. And it shows. Everything in it is crafted from scratch, and we applaud the wicked craftsmanship on display. Unlike Heston though, there’s nothing weird here. No unsettling flavour combinations or trickery.
It’s just a good burger. Craft over science.
Umami is an important place. Arguably, they’re at the epicentre of the quality mid-priced resurgence which is having a major impact on this side of the pond too. And for that reason, as well as a damn fine and totally unique burger, Umami is smack bang at the top of our Essential LA Burgers list, cosying up to In-n-Out. Go.
- Rob.
