Well where to start... irate reviews are such fun but it's hard to draw a thread through them, so instead of trying to do this thematically I'll go with narrative.
Limping down Wardour street fresh from a delightfully brutal session at the soon-to-shut and not-too-brutal Virgin Active up the road, I was naturally hankering for a reasonably priced but still decent dose of meat/grease and starch. I should have just bit the bullet and gone to McDo (I do love bulking cycles) but I was due to meet my friend at the most excellent Spice of Life later, so there I found myself: staring at the Chipotle sign as though it said "we got naked women and beer". I remember at that moment however, that 2013 would be the year that I threw common sense out the window for the sake of trying fancy new things.
Brgr "Co." is one such fancy new thing. I saunter up to the very pretty stainless steel and black wood fishbowl that is is, and look for the menu. The first thing I see is not a list of grub with its price, but a description of how all the beef is raised on the very British Dutchess of Blahblah's estate. All well and good, I suppose even though I don't know the Dutchess I might as well support the old biddy's cottage industry. Tally-ho!
As I go inside I am almost knocked back out the door by the product of extremely (or intentionally?) poor ventilation design in an open kitchen. I get that it's all the rage, and who doesn't want to hot-box a burger joint with the smell of sizzling cow? Unfortunately, that exercise somewhat defeats itself when only the smell of old grease rises to the top and also, when the burgers are all sizzle and no (except for one but we'll get to that later) .. steak.
Sitting down despite the onset of dread and fear that my brand new 2-quid cashmere cardigan (I was in China over Xmas) would come out smelling of the wrong animal, I am presented with a menu....eventually. Upon browsing this menu I am struck by one thing. There are two burgers, of the same size, with IDENTICAL properties, different names and different prices. Now, it could be that my career has forced me to pay attention to detail, but if both burgers are EXACTLY "A phenomenal blend of the most tended beef cuts served medium rare to medium to preserve the juiciness and flavour", yet trade at a different price, then there is significant room for arbitrage in the Juicy and Flavoursome Exchange. I'll take 10000:1 leverage please...
As I ask the waitress person to disambiguate this, she explains that the pricier one is a better type of Juicy and Flavoursome and that these are sadly not identical goods priced differently for some reason (Alas, back to trading mortgage-backed's for me then....). When I say, verbatim "I suppose it would help if that was written on the menu", she snaps back with a "Well, what do you want me to say?". {Rant} I want you to say ANYTHING but a bitchy remark like that. My Shoulder Angel would pop up at this point and say "Oh Captain Thundercrunch, don't be so hard on the girl; she probably isn't paid very much", and would immediately by gunned down by my NRA card-carrying Shoulder Capitalist who'd say something like "Screw that noise, there is at least one other person in London looking for a job at the same wage who'd do it without that 'tude!" {/Rant}
Anyhoo, I order a burger and a beer. The only beer on the menu. Which I'm told has sold out "a few hours ago". Guys. Seriously? And they have the nerve to sulk when I order a tap water instead.
Burger arrives without any fanfare. I had really hoped that the quality of the dish would redeem all the ass-hattery that I had endured up until then. But.... it's on a weak-ass brioche bun and the lettuce, pickles, tomatos and onion look like they were bought at Lidl.
And then there's the meat. I'm not sure how to break it to you, but you can't use soggy, watery mince, ram it full of salt (I felt the occasional flake, bet the chef was patting himself on the back for imaginatively using Maldon), sear the outside, and call it juicy. That's called salmonella. Now don't get me wrong, I'm sure that from my attitude you can tell that I'm the "acquaint live cow with bonfire for 10 seconds, shoot it, carve off a lump and call it a rare steak" kind of guy, but that sort of gung-ho doesn't cut it with burgers. I'm not going to waste any more time than I have in going into this (says I after approx 2 pages) but the burger patty was just....wrong.
Anyway, after struggling break up what seemed like a scintillating conversation about two waitresses impending day off (sun-beds and Brick Lane antiquing I'm told), I pay the bill and stumble out poorer, thankfully filled but really just in a mood about this wave of gourmet burger joints plaguing London. If it isn't sell-your-mother-good, what is the point of this place over your local pub or fast-food place?
No. That's it. These aren't burger joints. Want a good burger joint? Petition 5 Guys to open in London read more