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. ↩

Ben's Canteen / Clapham, London

“…it’s the second instance of DOUBLE BEEF we’ve encountered this year.”

South West London.

No, I don’t like it either since I am neither of Australiasian descent nor did I grow up in Surrey. However, sometimes we have to go there, crossing the length of the TFL network tolerating trains that stop at “Bookham” and “Berrylands” and other places that probably don’t actually exist.

But Clapham-gripes aside (and I could go on), we’re there to visit Ben’s Canteen.

Now Ben’s, with its stripped floor aesthetic and dog-and-pram wielding clientele feels much more like South West Goes East. It’s very relaxed and we arrive at midday on a Sunday so they have a full brunch menu as well as Roasts on the go. Things could be worse.

And so to the burger. It’s a fancypants take on a cheeseburger, and it’s the second instance of DOUBLE BEEF we’ve encountered this year (the first being the Ad Cod’s delightfully deranged Ox Cheek Chilli burger). A fine thick Angus patty sits atop tomato and lettuce, with a slice of homemade corned beef on top (not the tinned one you had at school) a violently orange secret sauce and a slice of smoked cheddar.

The genius of the double beefing on this occasion is that the cheese has melted into the corned beef. Dave the Chef preps his own corned beef by trimming and rolling a nicely aged topside of Orkney beef, brining it for 24 hours and then cooking it with stock and vegetables. Once the burgers are ready, it’s sliced and popped under the grill with the smoked cheese on top. The melted cheese warms the beef from the top, and then once it’s part of the burger, the freshly grilled patty warms it from the bottom. This gives the whole sandwich a nice consistent texture and temperature, and the bun which is considerable but soft manages to keep it all together somehow.

A quick Google of previous reviews of Ben’s Canteen and you’ll see the BC Burger has been under much revisioning in the few short months it’s been open. I think Dave has cracked it: different enough to stand out from the crowd, gourmet enough to please the locals and appease the price point and well constructed enough for geeks like me to walk away happy.

Looking down the length of the menu at Ben’s and you can really appreciate the wealth of choice on offer. We got to try the brisket sliders (which weren’t reeeeally sliders), the deep fried pork cheeks (totally excellent, especially the dip) as well as a few bonus hunks of their Sunday roast beef (flawlessly cooked and you really can taste its pedigree). On top of that, they do a mean eggs benny.

If there was only one flaw, it would be the comedically poor service from the French waiter. Long waits, borderline aggression and impossible to attract his attention, it was fortunate we didn’t have to be anywhere in a great hurry. We didn’t experience bad service from any of the other staff, but this guy is so bad it was almost a joke. Other folks I know have come across him too, and we’ve verified the OMG-Is-That-Guy-For-Real sentiment. So they should sort that really because he’s certainly not ‘on brand’, so to speak.

Go for the burger. Go for brunch. Go for Sunday roast. They’ve got it all.

Oh and the Scotch Egg is great.

• Simon.

Honest Burgers / Brixton, London

We’d like to say it’s a refreshingly British take on a burger.

Honest Burgers is part of the expanding mini-restaurant movement in Brixton Village (aka Brixton Market). You know immediately from the zeitgeisty ‘Inspired by Great British Produce’ sign on the window the kind of burger experience you’re going to get at Honest - none of your processed twaddle here.

It’s also super tiny, similar to Franco Manca, but there’s room outside and they provide blankets if you’re al fresco and it’s a bit nippy out.

We cracked into the cheeseburger first. The meat was cooked spot on medium but was (oddly for Ginger Pig fare) gristly, causing one tooth-shuddering bite. We chalked that down to bad luck.

What wasn’t luck-based, however, were the other ingredients.

The red onion relish mainlines a very strong balsamic flavour which was lip-curlingly sweet, dominating the mouthful and rendering what ‘pickled cucumber’ was there as redundant. You’d think a relish like this would compliment a full-bodied cheese, but paired with a rather sour red leicester, the two tasted uncomfortable together.

It’s worth noting this is the first time we’ve seen Red Leicester as a cheese option. Seeing how it melts, we’re hoping it doesn’t get trendy.

The Honest burger next, and it’s the most successful incarnation; the bacon being the real deal: crunchy and sweet whilst maintaining a soft chewiness. Again though, the relish makes an appearance, and the mature cheddar, whilst less offensive than the Leicester, is still unsuitable.

The fries are moreish as hell, doused in what looks and tastes exactly like Aromat, the low-grade crack of the seasoning world, with some rosemary lobbed in for good measure. They taste good, artifically-manipulated-good. (Seriously though, buy Aromat, you can throw that shit on anything and it tastes better, ain’t bad when you rubs it on your gums either).

We’d like to say it’s a refreshingly British take on a burger. What we will say is it’s a British take on the burger. Sadly, what it isn’t is refreshing. Or even novel. Much of what saddens us about the trend of the British burger can be read on our review of Byron’s short-lived Uncle Sam.

It’s question of taste at the end of the day. While we understand what Honest Burgers are trying to achieve here, it feels a teensy bit pretentious.

We wanted to love it. We just can’t.

And while the well-dressed South London urbanite crowd waiting outside suggests it’s pretty successful, as does the 100% score on Urbanspoon and bullshit takedowns on contrarian write-ups, it’s just not for us.

It’s all a bit too Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall.

One more thing: being in the market, HB has to open and close alongside everything else. This sucks really, especially when I go to Brixton regularly on Tuesday nights. It’s not open on Tuesday nights. Or Wednesday night. Or all of Monday. Or Sunday night.

In fact, if you are planning on going, then you’d better check if they’re open; otherwise the shutters to the market will be down and you’ll have to console yourself with some KFC and the fishy stench that pervades Atlantic Road after dark.

• Rob.
• Simon.