[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. ↩
Cheeseburger Macaroni Cheese from the MacBar, New York.
[FOODTRUCK REVIEW] Cheesy Mac and Rib / Grilled Cheese Truck / Los Angeles, CA
Sometimes an idea comes along that is so simple, and yet so totally ingenious that you just have to stand up and slow clap the dudes that thought it up, ‘Lucas’ style. So we applaud the comfort food genius that is Los Angeles’ Grilled Cheese Truck.
What’s all the more awesome is that these guys take such a staple, classic, comfort food and reinvent it with panache too. It’s testament to how well they do it that I’ve seen queues for this mobile eatery easily stretch 20-plus long. Our first visit attempt was at the fairly legendary Abbot Kinney First Fridays festival in Venice. The trouble was we’d already tried five trucks by the time we spotted them. Dammit.
And those queues are there for good reason; their Cheesy Mac And Rib is hugely satisfying. The barbecue pork was saucy-sweet, soft and worthy of a place all of its own on a menu. The mac ‘n cheese was heavy on the gooey cheese, sticky yet still trying to escape from every opening, and hinted a savouriness that balanced with the pork brilliantly. One hell of a sandwich.
I’m pretty sure I put this away in under ten mouthfuls it was so good, and if we weren’t going on to somewhere else for more food, I would have had another. A bang up job, and a must for anyone In L.A. who has only got time to visit a handful of food trucks.
- Rob.
[REVIEW] Short Rib Burger / Bread Street Kitchen / One New Change, London
We’re trying to figure out who is supplying London’s caterers with all these low wattage filament lightbulbs.
Mr Ramsay. Before we begin.
Christmas Cookalong.1
What the fuck were you thinking?
It was like being visually water-boarded with liquid inane awkwardness. If it wasn’t the awful Channel 4 fodder guests that ‘visited’, or Gordon’s frankly appalling repetitive small-talk, then it was the time-delayed cuts to That Guy That Played The Bongos In Jamiroquai while his dad tried unsuccessfully to hide the fact he was drinking poor quality lager at 10am on live television. Oh, and the small issue that huge chunks of the show were repeats of the previous nights’ Come Dine With Me, confusing the baubles out of people flicking on to it. Christ, I hope the pay check came in a dump truck that could fill up the father in law’s swimming pool.
Looking for the entrance to Ramsay’s newest restaurant Bread Street Kitchen, we barrel through One New Change, which sounds like a cross between a rejected boyband and an aspirational government policy.
It being at least a year since visiting Barbecoa, we realise it’s opposite. Next to a Nando’s. Just up the alley from a Byron. Round the corner from the Wasabi. Across the way from EAT.
Being on the rear end of the building, on Bread Street (hence the name), it doesn’t share the same quality views of St Paul’s that Jamie’s Barbecoa enjoys. In fact the view you do get is of the rather dull offices of the people that you’re sitting in there with.
But we are in. A sea of twill-shirted windsor knots scattered about the cavernous space faces us. The receptionist eyes us up and down, wondering to herself whether we missed Nando’s completely and fell through the wrong door.
We are a little bit uncomfortable.
The service from the get-go was super-slick. From the small-talk of the maitre d’ (“Oh you guys look like you’ve been working so hard today, try our cocktails!”) to ordering from the waiter - the food was out faster than a frisky greyhound. We went for two short rib burgers, some chips and a portion of macaroni cheese.
The burger is pretty. The burger is big. The short rib patties could hardly be faulted, if for a tad of sporadic underseasoning on one. The bouncy, brioche buns had been brushed with butter to double-team the mouth with rich butteriness. It was dripping butter before we even picked it up. The ketchup on the top bun half had the look and taste of a creamy-sweet tomato mascarpone mix. And the bottom bun was laced with shredded lettuce covered with mayonnaise and some barely-distinguishable mustard.
The result was a decadent sweet richness. So decadent in fact, that our crisp white napkins could barely protect us from the butter onslaught. The mustard was way too low in the mix to add the contrasting kick. The Bermondsey Frier cheese does a pretty good job at cloning mozzarella and halloumi, but doesn’t add the layer of salty slickness that we always look for. Similar to the carefully curated surroundings, it had an aftertaste of over-thought and design by committee.
After we’ve finished our burger, we look up to see that the entire room has filled up. We really can’t stress just how enormous BSK is. Vast. And by 8pm, after they’ve all finished their last billable 15 minutes of the day from across the road, the place is heaving. We realise a few things after agreeing that the macaroni cheese was ‘nice’.
Bread Street Kitchen is the most clumsily designed restaurant we’ve been in for years.
The menu positively froths with buzzwords, you can choose from the ‘raw bar’, ‘hot kitchen’, ‘small plates’ and the slightly spa-esque ‘hot stone’.
The reclaimed furniture: if you don’t manage to get a leather booth, you’re sitting on chairs from an Essex secondary school. We’re also trying to figure out who is supplying London’s caterers with all these low wattage filament lightbulbs. It’s been done to death here.
There is no set menu, and the portion control is rigorously small - Gordon wants you to buy at least three courses each, push a few cocktails down you and flummox you with a bafflingly long and expensive wine list. It’s the kind of wine list that sits perfectly in, say, Claridges; arguably it fits the clientele here, but it’s not for two scruffy bloggers buying a burger each and sharing a few sides.
It’s all very impressive when you’re in there. Very Big Manhattan Restaurant in what they’re going for. The illusion of which is ruined once you leave again and walk past the Nando’s next door.
If you can withstand the try-hard reclaimed decor, the cufflinked clientele, and the soft, incessant, insufferable balearic beats, then it’s worth a go. But we’d suggest getting an ISA, saving up, then taking lots of money and ploughing your way through the cocktail menu as quickly as possible. Or doing a law degree first.
- Simon.
- Rob.
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If you’re wondering why Rob was watching the Christmas Cookalong, then it’s worth noting that his job at the Big British Castle involves watching lots of television. He was working on Christmas Day, the poor sausage. ↩
★[FIELD REPORT] Thoughts on Mishkin’s / Covent Garden
Rob, like an idiot, ate it even though it was still a little too hot it was so nice.
Mishkin’s mashes together a few vibes:
- a 50s pie ‘n mash shop exterior and ceiling tiles
- some 50s Americana diner booths
- prescription 90s Brooklyn bare brick walls
- the signature square bar
Arriving after 9pm, it’s lit like a dive bar, while the majority of the ‘Lock, Stock’ soundtrack chirps out of the speakers.
The whole thing works, and somehow doesn’t feel forced. A testament to the polished design thinking that’s gone into it. Bravo.
Obviously, the main reason were were here was to try the steamed beef patty. Otherwise known as a slider. Upon ordering though, we were told that they had sold out for the day, very sad times. So we had to throw in some substitutions.
Reuben Sandwich
Now, we’ve had a bunch of these in the States and have rarely been disappointed, so it was first to catch our eye. And it was nice.
The pastrami was tasty and peppery, the cheese was chewy, squidgy and seeped into the folds of the meat, along with the just-there-enough Russian dressing.
Personal preference weighs in at this point: Rob found the thinly cut pastrami didn’t add as much to the texture as the chunky lumps of torn off corned beef (what we Brits call salt beef) he was used to in the Reubens he’d had in the States. The rye had also been toasted (too much in Rob’s opinion) an unnecessary measure for this sandwich. Again, this is a good sandwich, and recommended for a Reuben newb (a Reuwb?), just not the best example we’ve ever had.
Duck hash
A generous shredding of duck, intermingled with chunks of seasoned potato, still with plenty of bite to them. Maybe not necessarily a hash, as it felt like the two ingredients had been tossed together at the last minute, as opposed to being smashed ‘n fried tougher hash style, but the flavours were delightfully subtle. A fried egg topped it, with the yolk adding a sticky texture to the mouthful. And the “liquor” gravy served with it was spot-on umami juice that kept the whole thing from being too dry.
Macaroni and Cheese
Arguably our favourite restaurant mac ‘n cheese in London. Frickin’ great cheese sauce dude - syrupy cheddar ooze with a aftertaste of sharpness, topped with a heap of breadcrumbs, combining to create a smooth, crunchy, squishy mouthful. Rob, like an idiot, ate it even though it was still a little too hot it was so nice.
Mishkin’s is a very deliberate joint which really tastes like good ol’ fashioned home cooking. It doesn’t put you on edge with overt posturing; just nice, comforting, homely nosh with a smile.
- Rob ‘thought the waitress was cute’ Pooke.
- Simon ‘didn’t notice due to being married’ Doggett.
Addendum
The toilets have to be mentioned because they are fucking epic - simultaneously reminding Rob of his grandparent’s house in Bermondsey (which had last been decorated several decades past, having flock wallpaper from the time before the last time it was fashionable), and Bernie Rubens’ house in Sixty Six.
Also, we didn’t take any photos because it was dark. We’ll get some when we return to try the sliders.
Sorry. Steamed beef patties.
And we still haven’t managed to get into Spuntino yet. Grr.
★[ON TOUR / REVIEW] The Big Ass Burger / The Roaring Fork / Austin, Texas
The patty was as good as you’d expect in a restaurant at this level - well seasoned, delicately pink in the centre and wicked juicy.
The Roaring Fork is slap bang in the middle of downtown Austin, cuddled up to the InterContinental and just down the street from the lovely Paramount cinema. This is classic steak and cocktail territory, the kind of thing other national chains base themselves around, but with a distinctively upscale cowboy vibe.
We snuck in for a quick burger lunch to escape the heat.
The tantalisingly-monickered $13 Big Ass Burger awaited. A hefty, shiny, properly laid out steakhouse burger, easily a half-pounder, with poblano peppers, American cheese and bacon. Elsewhere on the menu is a $15 Kobe beef option, but the pesto aioli meant we left it on the sidelines this time.
The Big Ass Burger arrived closed with a healthy portion of fries and a side order of green chili macaroni cheese. On first glance the shine and colour of the bun was hugely pleasing, and when split the burger held its structure very well and was beautifully soft. The patty was as good as you’d expect in a restaurant at this level - well seasoned, delicately pink in the centre and wicked juicy.
The green chilli mac didn’t pack as much heat as the name suggests, but was a rich ‘n saucy poshed-up example. Solid, but not life-altering.
Overall this was one of the tidiest Austin burgers we’ve had, despite its ample proportions. Great service and a welcome escape from the bustle of downtown Austin. Recommended if you want a relaxed sit-down lunch instead of chasing down a local foodtruck.
- Simon.
