Eddie Rocket's / Galway, Ireland

“And it looked like a typical diner burger - apart from the tsunami of special sauce…”

Whenever I go to visit friends in Ireland, I always try to find a way to hit up Supermacs, the fast food burger chain of Ireland. It’s incredible - go into a big one, like Eyre Square in Galway, and you can get pizza and fried chicken too. It’s immense, and it’s an enjoyably messy scrum late on a Friday or Saturday night.

Their burgers are sauced to the max, and their chilli cheese fries are as filthy as they come. Take me here drunk and I’ll lob 20€ at food with reckless abandon. And as we all know, that’s about £50 at the moment.

However, on my last few visits, my compadres have insisted we go for a classier burger fare, and so Eddie Rocket’s it was. Now Eddie’s goes for a quasi 1950’s American diner vibe, think Ed’s Easy Diner and you’re on the right wavelength. Also, if you’ve seen last year’s excellent ‘The Guard’, then you’d recognise it. This one was plonked in a leisure park opposite a cinema, so maybe throw in a bit of out-of-town TGI Friday’s and a dash of Frankie & Bennie’s for good measure.

Buoyed by the presence of American cheese on the menu, I thought I’d hit up the embarrassingly-named Cheeez Please. The waitress promptly caused panic by looking all befuddled and saying: ‘You mean cheddar right? They’re the same thing’.

No, I didn’t mean cheddar. Hmmm.

Sitting up at the the counter, we were able to see the chef at work, pounding the meat onto the grill with a round patty smasher. Sadly, it stayed on the grill for way too long and the cheese was thrown on the patty literally seconds before it was put in the bun. Heartbreaking.

Seconds later it was in front of me. And it looked like a typical diner burger - apart from the tsunami of special sauce: a weird pale, nuclear yellow colour. Very off-putting. On first bite though, it wasn’t that bad. The patty was seasoned and had clung on to some juice, the sauce was mayo with a touch of mustardy-spice (only a tiny touch mind), and the veggies were plentiful and crisp.

The cheese had fought hard to melt, against the odds, but separated upon eating rather than stringily pulling away. But the bun. Oh, the bun. It was stale to the point of crunchy, and therefore repelled moisture. A real let down on an otherwise passable effort.

The hot wings that accompanied were solid, and the bacon cheese fries were covered in an awesome cinema-style nacho cheese, even if its main ingredient was clearly salt.

Nice try Eddie’s. But on my next trip though, the plan is most definitely Occupy Supermacs.

• Rob.

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.

1. You should see it. It’s actually great. The Rock spends all his screen time dripping everywhere. ↩

Mother Flipper / Brockley, London

We’ve finally got proper American cheeseburgers being sold by multiple vendors in the capital at reasonable prices.

It’s Friday night, and we’re lamenting the lack of excitement our last few burgers have delivered. We wanted something fucking good. Little did we know we only had to wait 12 measly hours…

In a car park, at the rather lovely Brockley market, you’ll find three youthful dudes with a grill banging out some pretty buzzworthy burgers.

They look like they’re in their early twenties, wearing obscure hardcore band tees and American Apparel hoodies. And honestly, we were kind of jealous. Why the hell weren’t we this proactive when we were their age?? We ordered all three of the burgers on offer, and then impatiently watched the impressively slick cooking from the grill boss and efficient construction from his buddies.

And, well, the burgers are excellent. Let’s have a closer look at a three course burger lunch:

Starter - The Mother Flipper

Their take on a classic cheeseburger, and our standard ‘control’ burger.

The first bite of the smashed, well-seasoned patty hits with a salty, deep meatiness from the concentrated juices pressed into the crust on the grill. It’s brilliant. The cheese is substantial, two slices thickly melted perfectly over the patty with a rather ingenious homemade cloche. A lattice of ketchup just takes the line over a spiral of French’s in the mix. Finished with some shredded iceberg and a beefy slice of pickle in the middle, it’s a very accomplished take on a classic.

And the brioche bun, from an undisclosed ‘artisan bakery in North London’ (we all need a secret ingredient or two) is impressive - solid, substantial and just soft enough, it contains everything without struggling from all the juice.

Mains: Double Candy Bacon Flipper

Two slightly smaller cheese-covered patties contained in a similiar set up to the Motherflipper, except with sweet, sticky candied bacon (which had a similar smokiness to Oscar Mayer). Nice to see a double patty bacon option here.

Pudding: Chilli Flipper

A really awesome and original take on a chilli burger, the pepper and onion mixture on the patty packs the heat of a kebab shop chilli sauce on one level, with a fragrant chinese-style lemongrass finish. It’s a complex and memorable kick, which lingers nicely.

Boom. Three superb courses.

These are really solid sandwiches prepared with startup, haphazard love: from the grill that occasionally teases hot and cold to the cunningly homemade cloches, by a guy you might bump into at the Turtle.

One final thing to say. It would be very feasible for someone to just order a cheeseburger and write it off as a competent Meatwagon rip-off. We recall this happening to the Lucky Chip guys last year and it saddens us enormously.

To those people we’d just like to say the following:

• Christ guys, it’s OK for there to be more than one Proper American Cheeseburger in London. FFS.
• If they’re similar then that’s because they’ve both Done It Right.

We’ve finally got proper American cheeseburgers being sold by multiple vendors in the capital at reasonable prices. Party times.

So this is a must return for us, and a must venture south for all you lot.1

Get down there. This Saturday. GO ON.

• Rob.
• Simon.

Mother Flipper

1. It would also be great to see these guys join the ranks of the Eat Street collective. Nudge, nudge. ↩

Umami Burger / Santa Monica, CA

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.

“No unsettling flavour combinations or trickery. It’s just a good burger. Craft over science.”

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.

umamiburger.com

• Rob.

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.

Joe Allen / Covent Garden, London

OK, as a precursor to this review, let me throw down some B/A burger theory for y’all. Burgers are usually served up in one of two ways:

• The ‘Open’ Burger

Whereby the lid of the bun is placed separately on the plate or partially resting on the edge of a burger, revealing the meaty innards and other contents. Occasionally the bun lid will be bare, occasionally it will play host to the salad elements of the burger, occasionally the ‘salad’ will be on the side of the plate, occasionally they will place it on the burger. Condiments may or may not be included. There appear to be no steadfast rules on this. Usually applied by restaurant burger offerings.

• The ‘Closed’ Burger

The bun lid is on top of the burger and all composite ingredients are already tucked in. For the most part, this is the method of the convenience burger industry. Now, the ‘Open’ method innately suggests that the burger is incomplete and that the eater will add his or her condiments, the salad items of his or her choosing, and close the bun content in the knowledge that personal preference has been satisfied in this area. But come on guys, this is real laziness. Some of the genuine joy of trying a new burger for me is seeing how the place has made it and what ingredients they have used.

A burger should be served as a whole and should be a product of the flavour choices the chef has chosen to combine into a good sandwich. Leaving the top open is close to heresy in this respect and is a major bugbear of mine.

Like, a restaurant wouldn’t serve a chicken and mushroom pie with the pasty top at the side and the chicken and mushroom in separate dishes so the diner can decide how the meat to veg ratio is best would they? No. Exactly.  

So with that all off my chest, let’s move on to the Joe Allen Bacon Cheeseburger…

Everything about this burger is pretty good:

• the bun is a robust yet satisfyingly squidgy brioche
• the patty is thick with quality meat
• they don’t half fling a fuck-ton of nicely melted cheese on it.

But then we get to the ‘Open’ situation.

Two spears of pickle and a whole, thick slice of raw onion cosy up to the side of the burger for potential insertion. Ketchup and American mustard are requested. Everyone at the table sets about constructing their burger like kids eagerly making a space station out of lego: I add two of the larger rings of onion, both pickle spears and, using the tried and tested Meatwagon technique, I alternately lattice my ketchup and mustard onto the bun lid.

Then we eat.

Exclamations of how good the burger is bounce around the table, and yes, my burger tastes kinda great: the right sauce distribution, heavy on the pickle, relatively light on the onion. But then, it should taste how I like it. I CONSTRUCTED IT.

And this is the point I’m trying to make: I don’t want to know have a good idea of how the burger is going to taste, I want it to be a mystery. That’s why we love burgers so much, because each one can be unique even though the basics are essentially the same. So even though I enjoyed it, there was a slight pang of disappointment.

joeallen.co.uk

• Rob.

The Joe Allen burger is an off-menu “secret” item.