[REVIEW] The Gun Beef Shin Burger / The Gun / Docklands, London
“the amount of time you spend looking at the O2 from that deck makes you wonder why the hell it still exists…”
We’d heard good things about the Gun, but we could not for the life of us remember who had recommended it, or to whom.
- Had it come to us in a dream?
- Had some cunning incognito Gunner Derren Brown’d us?
Who knows. Regardless, it had ended up on The List, so try it we must.
On any other day we would have laughed off the notion of having to negotiate Docklands, but we had time to kill before the latest Statham flick1 was due to start in the O2 so we headed over to check it out.
This is a really pretty pub - shiny dark wood surfaces gleam at you and finely upholstered leather bar stools and Chesterfields abound. There are lots of suitably on-brand firearms scattered about too. They have Bitburger on tap, an instant fave. And it has a huge riverside deck with an enviable view of the Thames and the O2, if you like that kind of thing. Actually, the amount of time you spend looking at the O2 from that deck makes you wonder why the hell it still exists, and why they don’t seem to be able to clean it properly.
We sat out on that deck all on our own. In the damp cold like bloody idiots with our coats firmly done up. However, the result of all this is threefold:
- It is PRICEY.
- It is FULL of loud, gussied-up Canary Wharfers.
- It is nowhere near anything. Like NOTHING.
It’s as if a drunk millionaire dumped a really nice mews by the river one night, then woke up in the morning forgetting where’d he put it. To their credit they do provide a free cab service to and from the pub on weekday lunchtimes if you book a table beforehand. And frankly, they need to, because how the fuck else are people going to get there?
The Gun burger came out looking monumental; a huge tower of impressive looking ingredients surrounding a stout lump of beef. Banging the bun lid on it looked tricky as hell to cut through, let alone take a bite out of. Then we spotted that this was the first burger we’d seen that attempted the ‘Double Onion’. Daring.
The bottom layer of onion had been broiled in a broth; soft with a thick, savoury taste comparable to proper slider onions. The onion rings looked good upon arrival, but atomised into nothing once in the sandwich. Unrecognisable in any mouthful, making them sadly redundant. It was like they just disappeared. A good concept we’d like to see more of, but the execution was inconclusive. The cheese was melted surprisingly well considering its in-keeping properness, with a hint of sharp aftertaste that was just right.
Having bigged up the shin on the menu, the beef was a real anticlimax. Again veering into ‘mixed’ patty territory: we could see the herbs and taste the white wine they’d added to the meat, destroying any original flavour. A ragu in patty form before you’ve chucked the tomato in. It was chewy and it tasted like wine. It may as well have been a veggie burger for all the beefiness we could taste.
Despite the hit and miss contents, the bun was epic. A squishy, light-but-chewy marvel that couldn’t save the burger, but was really impressive considering.
We also tried a sausage roll and scotch egg which, whilst nicely cooked and spicy, were both pretty tiny and WAY too expensive for what we got. We gloss over these to talk more about the Macaroni Cheese we also ordered - wherever possible we try and see the good in all the stuff we eat.
But not this time, this was really fucking shit.
A flavourless, overcooked pasta mixed into an unseasoned bechamel sauce, a light smattering of a very mild white cheese, all grilled for an instant. That’s it. A horrible, offensive six English pounds of bland. We can only imagine this comes from a reluctant chef shuffling out a conciliatory nod to the Mac ‘n Cheese craving masses. But really, dude, have some pride. You cannot charge six pounds for this. It made us concerned for the rest of the menu.
So on the whole, The Gun is a real 50/50 experience. Great views, great beer vs. some apparent lazy cooking with the occasional glimmer of competence.
We imagine that come the summer, a leisurely trip to The Gun to sit outside and lap up the rays and the sound of the Thames on a nice quiet weekday afternoon would be grand.
But make sure your wallet be bulging, and your ‘yahs’ be plentiful.
- Rob & Simon.
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It was mostly incoherent, but well-shot and the Stath killed lots of people. ↩
[REVIEW] Lucky Seven / Westbourne Park, London
“Unfortunately it felt like they couldn’t wait for us to get out of there…”
We’ve all got at least one - a place you want to go to, but it strays wildly from home or work.
Not on the way to anywhere. Places that have no other discernable reason for you to go to, places that you know there’s something you want to try there, but is such a herculean effort you may as well just stay at home and have a jacket potato.
Well, for us, this has been Lucky Seven in Westbourne Grove
Nestled innocuously, almost anonymously, in a small parade of shops and restaurants in Westbourne Park, you’d be forgiven for missing it. It’s pretty small - inside it only has 6 booths, so in busy periods they operate a booth share policy. Like Wagamama, but way cosier.
Walking in instantly brings a nostalgic diner atmosphere. It feels like a lilliputian small diner in Middle-of-Nowheresville, USA. They even have stick-on black and white lettering boards above the open kitchen. Score! And hip-lite fave PBR is on the menu (as “Blue Ribbon”). Oh wait, the waiter didn’t even know what we’re trying to order.
“Pee Bee Ahhhh?” he murmurs. Something tells us that hasn’t been in stock for a while.
Our Cheeseburger (with American) and Bacon Cheeseburger (with Monterey Jack) came out served open, and uncondimented with veggies on the side, which made the kitchen crime that had been committed all the more blatant.
We don’t think they should have sent a burger out in that sort of state, especially with no attempt to conceal the crime.
First rule of Cheeseburger Club is: you never grill processed cheese.
Second rule of Cheeseburger Club is: YOU NEVER GRILL PROCESSED CHEESE.
It fucking burns it - creating a tough plasticky crust that makes it really sticky and thoroughly unpleasant when it bonds itself to the roof of your mouth. Really not fun.
Saying that, the fairly chunky pre-salted patty was adequately cooked, with a cracking dark-pink medium centre, and the bun was a pretty neat, bouncy brioche. Once we’d added our desired veggies and sauces (the setback of every ‘open’ burger), the result was a relatively decent sandwich, and a good looking one too.
The Bacon Cheese definitely edged it here, with the bacon adding a salty depth to the seasoning that the cheeseburger lacked, and the jack having a better melty texture to it. Go with the jack here, you’ll thank us, seriously.
As for sides - the onion rings fared pretty well, they were chunky and the batter wasn’t greasy, although there was rather too much of it, resulting in a rather doughy middle. The chilli was a real disappointment though, being both bland, cold and having none of its alleged trademark spice. There’s more kick in a bowl of rice pudding. And there were loads of beans in it. Seriously, like way over the regular bean-to-meat ratio. Pretty uncool.
We don’t normally comment much about service unless it’s noticeably good or bad, but at Lucky 7 it’s very odd. We happened to be there at the same time as Nick from Hamburger Me and Jonathan Dale from off the telly so we all teamed up. On reflection, Nick’s order played up to L7’s strengths more than ours.
Anyway, there we were, on a weekday evening and the place isn’t busy. Not only do we appreciate what they’re trying to do, but were very susceptible to more booze. Unfortunately it felt like they couldn’t wait for us to get out of there, and the restaurant was half full the entire time. No upsells. We had to keep asking for fresh beers. Weird.
It was a satisfyingly standard burger. If you happen to be marooned in the deepest, darkest depths of West London then we can quietly recommend it.
- Simon & Rob.
[PREVIEW] The Fred Smith x Byron Chilli Queen Cheeseburger / Byron, London
Twenty two fricking venues. Twenty two.
That’s what Byron is up to now. If anyone ever had any doubt that this whole new wave burger thing wasn’t mainstream, then try to figure out how many covers they must be doing every weekend. Mindblowing.
Our general thoughts on Byron are already encapsulated in a review of their previous special from last year, the Uncle Sam, and haven’t really changed, so we won’t keep you.
What’s great about the Chilli Queen though is the involvement of Fred Smith of the Admiral Codrington, who is fast becoming a local hero. He neatly pirouettes around our nitpicks with the standard Byron experience: the bun is proper, the cheese is American and the sauce is plentiful.
In fact the chipotle mayo is wondrous - it doesn’t turn runny when cosied up to a hot patty and the raw chilli crunch delivers a pleasing uniform heat.
If Byron is Justin Bieber, then Fred is its smooth talking Ludacris.
This is a great way of more people getting a taste of what Fred’s up to, and that is most definitely a Very Good Thing.
Get it while you can. From today until that Queen holiday thing next month, at all the Byrons.
- Simon & Rob.
[PREVIEW] MEATmarket / Covent Garden, London
MEATMarket, the latest offering from MEATrepeneurs Yianni and Scott, is a fast-food version of their one-stop-burger-shoppe model, hosting some old MEATfavourites as well as spanking new incarnations of classic American-style fast food.
If you’re at all interested in the movements of the Meat[_____] crew then you’ve probably already seen a few reports on this new site in Covent Garden that was previewing last weekend. So, to cut to the chase, here’s our take on it.
If you plonked Gott’s Roadside in a locale like DownUnder in Seattle’s Pike Place Market, we reckon this is what you’d get.
It’s the counterpoint to MEATliquor: the menu is optimised for speed and takeaway convenience. Yianni gave us a quick tour of the kitchen, explaining how it’s been organised so each dish has its own cooking station which will keep wait times to a minimum and make it a real option to the Covent Garden lunchtime crowd, as well as the post-theatre folks who don’t have anywhere to go.
The burgers are the quicker cooking dual patty versions with a few new additions. The Black Palace isn’t really a White Castle slider, more a version 2.0 of the Ibzo burger that was briefly available during the Meatwagon era eighteen months ago. How time flies.
The jalapeño poppers are a proper must-have, just like the deep fried pickles are at MEATliquor. Perfect heat.
The deep fried bacon covered Ripper Hot Dog was the surprise star of the evening.
The velocity of these guys is incredible. #MEATeasy only just closed down thirteen months ago and these guys don’t show any signs of slowing down.
Yianni is getting to indulge his love of Wendy’s and A&W with this one. We love it too. It’s a proper fast food joint with a shiny, new kitchen.
The strip lit market location makes it immediately different. And if we’re honest, underneath those lights, the burgers are more functional than aesthetically pleasing. Our suggestion? Wrap them up. Have some tongue-in-cheek fun with the packaging.
Jubilee Market is one of those especially grotty bits of Covent Garden. You’ll sit on a balcony above it, looking down upon a sea of tourist tat and Microsoft Word signage. It’s quite the juxtaposition and we can only hope tourists do stumble upstairs by accident.
It’s going to be another rip-roaring success, and it might just be the first step to making this corner of Covent Garden something to be proud of.
- Simon & Rob.
[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] [Bacon Cheeseburger & Ortega Chili Burger / Kua ‘Aina / Soho, London
“As a certified US import we were pretty darn excited.”
Despite looking like a cafe that an eccentric old Londoner had decorated after being inspired on a recent ‘Polynesian Dreams’ cruise, Kua’ Aina is a renowned chain that’s been banging out burgers in Hawaii since 1975.
What Kua ‘Aina nicely summarises is the multitude of problems the American export has to face. Since we’re a scarcity-fuelled bunch, you can look at the list of chains that have jumped the pond and draw a few conclusions. To pull out a few examples:
- TGI Fridays. Not really any different to how it is in the States, but we’d much prefer it to be a Cheesecake Factory. Or a Bennigan’s (RIP).
- Taco Bell. The few franchisees who have taken the risk have stuck to the out of town locations (ie. Lakeside), and all they have to do is rehydrate some stuff that comes in boxes anyway.
- Wendy’s. Tried in the 90s, failed, then left. Arguably they’d probably be doing quite well if they came back now.
- Carl’s Jr. Oft-rumoured. Zero brand recognition on this side of the pond. Why bother?
- In-n-Out / Shake Shack / Five Guys - breathless tweets from those in the know often fuel speculation that they’re ‘looking for sites in Soho’ or some other horseshit. Whatever.
And the problems they face if and when they do come over are plentiful. First of all there’s a totally different type of consumer with their own idea of what a burger should be. Then you’ve got a different set of supply chain hurdles: price, quality and geography can ruin you. The sheer thought of, say, the Cheesecake Factory invading us with their pricing and portioning strategies and somehow keeping it profitable is enough to make your head spin.
Those that rely on actual cooking could be in a bit of trouble.
So on to Kua ‘Aina. As a certified US import we were pretty darn excited. Seating upstairs is a tight squeeze, like Ryanair overhead compartment tight. But hey, it’s got seating, and a downstairs area too, and the staff were delivering food quickly despite the lack of space.
The 1/2lb Bacon Cheese and 1/3lb Ortega Chili Burger arrived promptly, but were sorry looking specimens indeed - the cheese that presented itself had barely melted, was pale, and sweatier than The Rock in Fast Five1. The peppers atop the Chili burger appeared deflated and apologetic.
And they were small. So very small.
Also, you’ll notice, they had been served open. Mayo generously slathered on the top bun. Now, Rob is immediately confused. He’s been served an open burger, with one condiment added, but other condiments placed suggestively on the table. We know what a pedant he is.
No hesitation, the Heinz and French’s went straight on. Even then, they’re not particularly attractive. The dusty black char look ominous, and the tightly seeded buns are tough to cut.
But looks aren’t everything, so we persevered. It didn’t get much better. Whilst the 1/2lb patty was okay, the 1/3 pounder was covered with a thick gnarly crust that left an all-consuming burnt taste. Possibly a victim of the two-different-sizes-but-same-grilling-time issue, we pontificate. The bacon was rock solid and near on impossible to bite through, with whole chunks forcibly removing themselves in the first mouthful. The bun is too dense and the seeds go straight between your teeth, where they will then stay for for the rest of the afternoon.
The word ‘chili’ in the description of the other offering takes you down a bit of a false alley, as there was not an ounce of heat in the burger at all. However, having read up on Ortega chilis now that’s not surprising. The lack of any flavour from the pepper was just as disappointing, as its only purpose was as an unnecessary layer of squish. No cheese either.
The liberal mayo smothering tries to cover many of the sins going on here, much in the same way a cheap fast food burger does from Sonic or Wendy’s or Carl’s Jr. The problem is the overall package doesn’t deliver the same salty, stodgy, satisfying hit.
We don’t revel in being negative, but there were few redeeming features to what we ate at Kua ‘Aina. As we looked around though, the club sandwiches we spied looked immense. Intrigue alone (OK, and greed) will probably get us back here to sample those.
The other conclusion is that maybe we just ordered badly. Perhaps if you roll your own instead of opting for a pre-packaged menu option, your experience may vary.
- Simon & Rob.
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You should see it. It’s actually great. The Rock spends all his screen time dripping everywhere. ↩
