Little Big Burger / Portland, OR

“It is ridiculous how succinctly the name of the place describes the burgers they sell.”

Everything in this place is simple and unfussy - the interior is plain red and white, in a mid-century diner fast-food joint stylee.

The menu is as bare as it could be. Even the font they use feels simple. They’ve arguably nicked some tricks from the Five Guys and In ‘n Out playbook (even to the point where bacon is available, but not on the menu), but then Portlanded it up to match the ridonkulously hip district it’s situated in.

The burgers are strictly no-nonsense. And they are incredible.

The first thing you notice is how fresh everything is: the lettuce is alarmingly crisp, the onions are uber-crunchy, the tomato is taut and full of flavour, the swiss was melty, but not greasy at all. The patty was cooked medium to perfection; the meat was soft and seasoned well. Even the brioche bun tasted like it had just been baked, and is exemplary.

What made it all the more surprising was they used English style rashers for the bacon, something we usually frown upon at B/A, but in this instance seemed to work well. As did their take on ketchup, which rounded out the burger’s flavour brilliantly.

It is ridiculous how succinctly the name of the place describes the burgers they sell. When they arrived, we both commented on how small our burgers were, but their size belies how much is actually there - by the time we’d eaten them, we were both more than adequately full.

I’m practically gushing about this place, but honestly, it was the burger of my trip. You know a burger joint is good when a queue forms at 11.30 in the morning.

…and I haven’t even mentioned the truffle fries, which were terrific too.

littlebigburger.com

• Rob.

Cha!Cha!Cha! Taqueria / Portland, OR

I only had a mouthful of this because friend of B/A Irish Paul ordered it, but seriously, it’s THE BEST chimichanga I’ve ever tasted. It kicks any British attempt square in the balls, and then calls it a *verga*.

It was huge, I mean ENORMOUS - packed full of the juiciest meat, jammed with crazy-fresh guac and properly oozing lashings of cheese from the first cut. And it only cost $5.95, which is insane considering the size. I was the most jealous, like when-my-friend-at-school-got-Castle-Greyskull-for-his-birthday jealous.

I had the taquitos, which were fresh-n-tasty good. But if you go here, get the chimichanga. PLEASE.

chachachapdx.com

• Rob.

Voodoo Doughnut / Portland, OR

“…so sweet it actually hurt my teeth.”

If Krispy Kreme are the jocks sitting on the bleachers boasting about how much they bench, then Voodoo Doughnuts is the gathering of goths sitting beneath them, smoking weed and attempting to ignite the letterman jackets above with their Pentagram Zippos.

Everything about this place is brilliantly irreverent and suggestive, from the tagline (‘The magic is in the hole’), to the names of the doughnuts (there’s one called Butterfingering) to the staff.

Our waitress went to put our doughnuts in a bag, so I asked ‘Do you have a box?’ With the deadpan sardonicism of April Ludgate, she replied ‘Of course I have a box’, pausing.

Cue plummy Brit embarrassment.

We had queued for around 20 minutes before we got served but, dang, was it worth it. The selection of doughnuts they have is mind blowing, and with a queue of baying sugar-fix seekers waiting, as a first time visitor you feel pressured to pick almost randomly.

We went in the afternoon, which was probably why they had already sold out of the Old Dirty Bastard. But I reckon we could have picked any of them and left happy; they were all so good:

The signature Portland Cream was stuffed with the aforementioned, encased in a fluffy dough shell with a soft top of milky chocolate icing.

It was stick-your-middle-finger-in-the-face better than any similar styled doughnut I’ve ever had. The maple bacon bar also deserves mention for brazenly sticking two slices of bacon on top, and being so sweet it actually hurt my teeth.

Despite the incredible array of toppings and fillings, the lightness of the dough is the champion here. Goth-smokingly wicked. It’s essential Portland.

voodoodoughnut.com

• Rob.

Clinton Street Baking Co. / New York, NY

When it comes to a benedict, serving it on a buttermilk biscuit is just an enormous no-no.

Hype.

Hype hypey hype.

In a city that breakfasts and brunches with the very best of them, Clinton Street Baking Company is right up there on the must-visit lists. The weekend queues can be legendary. We, however, showed up mid-morning on a Monday. We didn’t have to queue, to the point where merely asking for a table and getting one immediately seemed to piss off the Maitre d’.

So we were in, nestled at the back near the kitchen window, and we were hungry. For me, the eggs benedict is always the quality benchmark, especially in such a celebrated environment. It’s worth noting at this point that Clinton Street are all about the biscuits and gravy throughout the menu. When it comes to a benedict, serving it on a buttermilk biscuit is just an enormous no-no.

Biscuits are effectively scones. Imagine a scone with a slightly overcooked poached egg, some fairly flavourless hollandaise and some inexplicable shavings of red pepper and, er, spring onion. Sorry, scallions.

And then, when you cut into it, the biscuit (scone) immediately disintegrates. Because that’s what they do. It ruins the dish, makes a huge mess and you’re left picking out the inexplicable bits of spring onion from your teeth.

Compared to a muffin or toast-based benedict, this was a huge disappointment. I don’t mind a good biscuit when used in the right context, but here it was being different just for the thematic sake of it. One of the worst dishes on this trip in a place that seemed like it would be a slam dunk.

Oh and the pancakes were fine, but the maple butter was weird. A greasier, claggier version of syrup that had a slight burnt aftertaste. $13 is a bit punchy.

I don’t think we ordered right, but I just can’t suffer through another of their buttermilk biscuits, so won’t be back for another go.

Don’t believe the hype, and leave the queues for everyone else. Katz’s Deli is only round the block.

• Simon.

clintonstreetbaking.com

The Roaring Fork / Austin, TX

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.