For my first go at burger making, I set my sights on this recipe, a copy of the In-N-Out Double Double burger. In all honesty it did not work. I’m not faulting the recipe but rather my own short comings. I tried to do too much too fast. There were too many components to think about. Look at the picture – lettuce, tomato, caramelised onions, sauce, pickles. I was trying to be too clever, too fancy. It was my first go – I should have stuck to the basics. They do however, look pretty awesome.

I had a couple of leftover patties so the following day I re-upped and changed my approach. I went for the standard steamed onion and cheese option. It worked a whole better but there was still room for improvement. Though it wasn’t bad for a first go, I need to step my burger game up.

• Patties.

Every recipe you’ll ever read about cooking steak or burgers will tell you to season your beef (yes, I know, that’s what she said). Turns out you can over salt them. My first go I made it rain on those patties. They developed a nice crust but all I could taste was salt. Very disappointing. The next lot of patties had less salt on them, and so were less salty. It seems so easy when you think about it. It should be noted that over seasoning is a criticism that I’ve seen levelled at both The Meatwagon and Hawksmoor which makes me slightly more confident in my abilities. I also think my patties were a bit on the small side. Due to their small stature, they ended up slightly more cooked than I would like.

Conclusion: thicker patties, ease up on the salt.

• Cheese

As everyone knows, you need processed cheese on a burger. My local Turkish supermarket had two types available. One was 40% cheese, the other 12% cheese. I went for the former. You would assume you want a high cheese content. Turns out higher cheese content means it melts slower and doesn’t fuse as well with the meat. The more processed the better. Next time I may try and seek out the Secret Burger Cheese. We’ll see.

Conclusion: processed cheese.

• Buns

I just used Tesco sandwich buns. They were a good size, just a little on the dense side. I will probably be sticking with these until I find a suitable local artisan organic heirloom vintage baker. Is that enough buzz words? Seriously though, a good bun is probably the hardest part of the burger. In America they have access to a plethora of bun options, including the potato based bun. Here, our options are much more limited. For the time being, I will be relying on supermarket bought buns. If I can get the meat and cheese right, I’m 90% there.

The biggest lesson I’ve learnt from my time spent with my grinder is how easy it is. If you’re willing to queue for upwards of an hour for a burger, why not spend half that time grinding your own? The burger’s genius lies in its simplicity, in its utilitarian nature. It is perfect at its purest. Meat placed between two pieces of bread. It’s not hard, believe me. Try it.

1. Sushi Dai, Tokyo.

I’ve already typed a lot of words about this, but suffice to say my sushi breakfast in Tokyo was one of the best things ever. It was Beyoncé singing a song written by The-Dream good. Yeah, that good. For a full report, go here.

2. Ramen in Tokyo

Like anyone who’s read the first issue of Lucky Peach, I developed a bit of a thing for ramen. Luckily, I read it before I went on holiday to Tokyo, so I did a little research and found out about a thing called Ramen Jiro. I never got round to writing a blog about the different bowls of ramen I ate, but Ramen Jiro was definitely an experience. I cannot fathom how these small Japanese dudes put away such a vast amount of noodles, coupled with the super fatty pork broth and the huge pile of bean sprouts, plus even more pork. I only managed half a bowl. Those bits of white you can see in the broth are tiny bits of pork fat. Jiro does not do things by half. In addition to Jiro, I had a couple of different of soy based ramen and a bowl of udon, which was delicious. Even the soba noodles I bought from a news agent were awesome. One day I hope to go back and eat more noodles. Here are some pictures: 1 2 3 4

3. The Meatwagon/Meateasy/Meatliquor

Real talk – whatever you think, the Meatwagon do a rad burger. Despite the whole fan boy, Twitter cult worship, the awful shit storm that was Meateasy, the obnoxious/patronising/not very good/sometimes quite friendly/quite hit and miss nature of the staff, the laughable Art Foundation interior of MeatLiquor, the fact that you cannot say one bad thing about it unless you want to be chased off the internet with virtual pitchforks, and the stupid fucking queues, their burger is still good. The only problem is that no-one is really trying to compete, and they can be quite inconsistent. Lucky Chip comes very close, and is near to my house, so major kudos to them. Resident Twitter burger snob Ain’t No Picnic would easily beat The Meatwagon, but he doesn’t appear to be active at the minute. At the end of the day, it’s only a burger. It’s not that hard to do. Just don’t get me started on the Burning Man thing. Or the Meateasy tattoo. White people. Am I right?

4. Big Apple Hot Dogs

Speaking of stuff white people like, the phrase London’s Burgeoning Street Food Scene gets the middle-classes going like bloggers to an end of year list. The best thing to come from it is Big Apple Hot Dogs. The work of one friendly guy who looks a bit like LL Cool J circa 1990, BAHD sells four types of hot dog. That’s it. My favourite is probably the all beef one. It’s a seriously juicy sausage, and I would honestly say that it’s as good as anything being sold in London right now. Get yourself to Old Street or Chatsworth Market and have a banger in the mouth. Or, as they call it in the states, a sausage in the mouth.

5. Spuntino/Mishkin’s/da Polpo

Something about the economy, something about opening not one restaurant but three in one year, something about making Covent Garden ‘cool’, something about New York’s Lower East Side, something about tattoos. Picking my favourite would be like picking my favourite Jawbreaker album – I’m pretty sure I know which I like the best, but I’m not sure I can truly say for definite. Sputino is cool and has a very nice atmosphere, they have a peanut butter & jelly dessert, but they don’t know what a slider is. Mishkin’s does a really nice Reuben (I honestly thought it would suck) and they do know what a slider is. Plus they serve a hot dog courtesy of Big Apple Hot Dogs, which I have not yet tried, but I can’t see it being anything less than delicious. da Polpo is not as good as the the other two, but the meatballs are nice, and you could take your parents for a meal there and not have to explain to them why people are shitting their pants over a meatloaf with an egg in the middle. They’re all good in different ways. You pick your own favourite. FYI, the best Jawbreaker album is 24 Hour Revenge Therapy.

6. Franca Manca

I’m sure you’ve probably eaten at Franca Manca. It’s good isn’t it? I like the one with the chorizo one. Affordable and delicious. If you’ve never eaten there, you might want to try it before they open the one in Shoreditch. That way you can claim to be over it just as everyone else catches on.

7. St. John Bakery

A donut and an Eccles cake for breakfast? And there’s a Monmouth Coffee round the corner? I’m there!

8. Nordic Bakery

I have only ever eaten one thing at Nordic Bakery. It is a truly wonderful thing. A freshly baked, still warm cinnamon bun. As far as I’m concerned they can sack off the rest of the menu and churn out only buns. On more than one occasion, I have bought one to take home, only to have eaten it all by the time I’ve got to Liverpool Street Station. I am impervious to their buns.

9. Peanut Butter & Co

The best peanut butter in the world is now available in Sainsbury’s. If it’s good enough for Jerry Seinfeld, then it’s good enough for me.

10. Anatolia

I couldn’t make this list without mentioning my local Turkish grill. I eat here so frequently I’ve tried everything on the menu. They may not be as good as Mangal in Dalston, but they’re local and that’s what’s important. A great bunch of lads.

That’s it for this year. Next year will see my prediction of barbecue being the next big trend in London come true. You just wait.

Happy Festivus.

According to Wikipedia, Tsukiji Fish Market is the biggest wholesale fish and seafood market in the world. I’ve always been under the impression that Leicester Market is big. Compared to Tsukiji, it’s peanuts to an elephant. Tsukiji is, much like most of Tokyo, sprawling and endless, a maze of passageways and people moving in every direction as far as the eye can see. It is a hive of activity, with people buying and selling the biggest, meanest and weirdest looking fish you will ever see. Everything is covered in a mixture of sea water and blood. There are huge tuna fish everywhere, freshly caught, waiting to be cut up and auctioned off. It’s best not too think how expensive this fish is. The traders at Tsukiji are not particularly keen on tourists visiting. It’s understandable – there is very little room to move and there are small motorised trolleys coming from every direction, moving seafood back and forth. The traders have been doing business for years and years, and tourists just get in the way of what is a very fine tuned machine. I would still highly recommend that you visit it, just don’t set your SLR and tripod up. You will be in the way.

Dotted around the edge of the market are a number of restaurants, the most of famous of which is Sushi Dai. Everything I read about it before I went said that the wait is normally an hour at the very least. I only had to wait twenty minutes, either due to the rain or the fact that I was there at 7am. Sushi Dai starts earlier. Whilst waiting in line, a lady came out to take people’s names and orders. Opting for the omaksae set meal (chef’s choice), I was asked if there was anything I didn’t like. She just laughed and shook her head when I said I’d like to try everything.

Once inside, it’s clear why there are always queues. Like most places in Tokyo, Sushi Dai is tiny, with only has space for 14 people at a time. There is a counter that runs the entire length of the shop, with stools on one side and the chefs on the other. There is a cash register at the very back. And that’s it.

First on the counter was the pickled ginger. I’d read that this is supposed to be a palate cleanser. Not wanting to go against Japanese etiquette I gingerly (pun intended) went for one piece only to see a salaryman at the other end of the room demolish the entire pile. With this one action he not only destroyed my fear of disrespecting Japanese social graces but also his taste buds.
The omaksae meal consisted of 11 pieces of sushi, plus 4 seaweed rolls, miso soup, green tea and an egg roll. First piece was tuna. The best looking piece of tuna I have ever seen. Fatty and a vibrant pinky purple, it was soft and delicious. So far, so good. Next was sea bass. The sea bass was very good. Like almost everything I ate that morning, I forgot to take a picture of it. I know right?

I did take a picture of the third piece, which was shellfish. This is the first of what I like to think of as the weird looking section. When you explain the concept of eating raw fish to someone, this is probably what they imagine. Weird tentacles and bits sticking out everywhere. The chef’s have a clever trick with this one. When they place the piece in front of you, they push it down flat so that when they remove their hand, the fish curls back on itself giving the impression that it’s still moving. Mine feel off the rice. Everyone laughed. Then I ate the fish and it tasted pretty good. Challenge accepted.

This was followed by red snapper, which was good, then Spanish mackerel, which was bloody lovely. It was topped with a tiny amount of scallions, and was close to being the second best piece of the meal. It held that title until the next piece turned up, which was tuna marinated in soy sauce. That was some serious shit. Plump tuna with a sweet, soy based taste. No time to bask in its greatness, as I was soon faced with two more weird pieces.

Sea urchin was a deep caramel colour, with an oddly pleasant gooey texture. This was followed by salmon eggs. When bite into, those little red bastards released a salty, fishy liquid inside my mouth. And yes, that is what she said.

After a couple of seaweed rolls, up next was baby shrimp. At this point, I was getting surprisingly full. I never really had sushi down as a filling meal, but I definitely didn’t feel like I could eat another two pieces. Not wanting to offend anyone, I man’d up and ate my penultimate piece: eel. I had never eaten eel before, and I kind of hope I never eat it again. It was the most overly fishy piece of the meal, with a flaky texture that I associate with shit chip shop fish. It was not pleasant. At all. For my last piece, I was given a free choice. I went with fatty tune. Classic and simple. It was delicious. So delicious I forgot to take a picture before I ate it.

For about an hour afterwards, I felt ridiculously enthusiastic and energetic about everything, like I’d just chugged five espressos or watched a Nicki Minaj video. A sushi high is a very underrated and somewhat inexplicable. I have no idea what it was about the raw fish that me so excited. A sushi comedown is not so great. I realise this post is very long (934 words so far) but it was such an awesome experience I couple probably go on for another thousand words about it. Wandering around the market, seeing the fish fresh from the sea, the atmosphere of the restaurant – the whole morning was so far removed form anything I’ve ever done and anything I could experience in London. What could be better than eating fish that has been caught that morning, mere feet from where it was once swimming? Anything that fresh would probably cost far more than the measly £38 Sushi Dai charge. It ranks as one my top five eating experiences ever, and if you are ever in Tokyo I would implore you to go. Unless you don’t like fish, in which case it’s probably a waste of money.

Crossing to the other side of the city, we have Lucky Seven. Lucky Seven are the OGs of the London burger scene. There’s a Zagat advert on their door from 2004. These guys were flipping burgers whilst you were still blogging your cupcake recipe.

Based on the concept of an American diner, Lucky Seven offers up pies, shakes and breakfasts in addition to the typical burger and fries game. Before my burger arrived, I was provided with this handy napkin, telling me how to make a perfect hamburger. I opted for the “throw everything on” approach.

Unlike Lucky Chip, Lucky Seven toast their buns, which I’m not big on. The burger was also cooked to medium which meant it was a little bit dry. Aside from that, it was all good. The bacon was nice and crisp, the cheese American, the patty nice and beefy. All round good shit.

Sides-wise, their onion rings were good, as were the chips. Their portions are pretty generous as well. Not pictured is the peanut butter shake I had, which was delicious. A popular food blog mantra is “adding bacon makes everything better”. I feel the same way about peanut buttter. If I had one tip for anyone that is thinking of entering into the food game, it is this: if you’re going to offer milkshakes, make sure you have peanut butter as a option. I’m looking at you Byron.

Comparing Lucky Seven and Lucky Chip would be unfair as they’re both going for different things. Just on the burger alone, Lucky Chip beats Lucky Seven. However, though I feel like I’m committing burger blasphemy by saying this, it’s not just about the burger. Lucky Seven has much more going for it. For starters, they have actual seats and a roof. Though this whole street food scene is a Good Thing and all, sometimes I just want to sit down and have a nice meal. They do (peanut butter) milkshakes, plus a whole host of American diner food. The breakfasts read like they’d be worth a trip back. The burger is good, but it doesn’t completely live up to the promise of everything else Lucky Seven has going for it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a good burger.

My biggest problem with Lucky Seven is that it’s so far away from where I live. Here’s an analogy. As much as I love the Boss, sometimes the idea of listening to the Live/1975-85 boxset fills me with dread. There are five records in the box. That’s ten sides. Most of the time, I just listen to Thank Me Later on Spotify.* However, I know that should I decide to commit to the Boss, I’ll be rewarded hugely with a 13 minute long version of Roaslita. And who can argue with that?

Lucky Chip
Netil Market
London
E8 3RL

Lucky Seven Diner
127 Westbourne Park Road
London
W2 5QL

*In this analogy, Lucky Chip is represented by Thank Me Later, the début alum by Canadian rapper Drake. It does not have ten sides. Whilst I’m talking about rap, apparently Odd Future visited Lucky Seven a couple months back and really liked it. So now you know.

The place I most wanted to try was Buen Provecho, a taco truck near Waterloo station. It only opens weekday lunchtimes, so I’ve never been able to go before. The fact that it was blogged about (is that a phrase?) on Cheese & Biscuits last week only made me want to go there even more.  Around midday on Tuesday I found myself wandering around Lower Marsh Street trying to find some tacos. Owing to my inability to write down street names correctly, or more likely the fact that he wasn’t there, I ended up taco-less. Not wanting my holiday to be completed ruined, the obvious solution to this situation was to hop a train to Chiswick and make a visit to Outsider Tart.

It was on the walk from the station to the bakery that I remembered there was a branch of Franco Manca in Chiswick. I went from being taco-less to having the best pizza in London. How do I know it’s the best pizza in London? Firstly, I’ve eaten pizza New York so feel that I’m in a good position to make broad sweeping statements regarding the quality of London’s pizzas (I’ve also eaten pizza in Chicago, but the less said about that, the better). Secondly, I Googled Franca Manco a couple of minutes ago and it seems like every dick with a blogspot account and a cheap digital camera has been there before me and came to the same conclusion. I guess I could maybe explain why the pizza pictured below was awesome, but this post is already quite long. Here’s a couple of points I would raise if I was writing a proper review: Sourdough base; soft and chewy, in a good way; two types of chorizo; tasty garlic oil on the side; weak lemon drink; good red sauce; cheaper then Pizza Express, even with the obligatory voucher. There are currently two branches, the one in Chiswick and the original place in Brixton. Apparently they’re going to be opening three more this year in Westfield, Covent Garden and Brick Lane. So expect pizzas to become the hipster food stuff of choice. They’ll be the new burger (the burger being the new macaroon, which was the new cupcake). I was talking to someone last night that told me the guy that runs the OG branch in Brixton is a bit like the Soup Nazi in Seinfeld. Go and tell him he looks like Al Pacino in Scent Of A Woman.

After the pizza, you’ll be please to hear that I did manage to get to Outsider Tart. Outsider Tart is run by two New Yorkers, who it seems decided it would be a good idea to move to Chiswick and open a bakery. Makes total sense right? New York’s loss is London’s gain. After interrupting three guys in the midst of what seemed like a very important band meeting (if you want my opinion guys, you’ve missed the lo-fi bandwagon. Just wait for the ska revival), I got me a peanut butter and chocolate brownie and a piece of New York crumb cake. Often with brownies, the middle is either far too soft and resembles raw batter or it’s too tough and ends like a shitty cake. This one was just right – dense, chocolately, chewy but not raw. And it had peanut butter in it which makes everything better. The crumb cake was again great, but I can’t envisage a situation where a cake topped with crumbs of cinnamon and brown sugar could be a bad thing. Could you add peanut butter to a crumb cake? Someone look into that for me. That would be a winner. I think Outsider Tart might be in my top two favourite bakeries in London now. It’s just a shame it’s so far from where I live.

After the bakery I had a browse of the Chiswick branch of Oxfam where I picked up a copy of A Heart Breaking Work Of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers, so expect all future blog posts to be incredibly self aware and self referential. Or even more self aware and self referential. I’ve started already.

Little Georgia, as you could probably guess, is a cosy family run restaurant that specialises in Georgian food. Just to clarify that’s Georgia the country and not Georgia the U.S. State, as one of my friends thought. It is also very small. With only five tables upstairs and four downstairs you have to time your visit well to get a seat. We managed to snag a table pretty quickly by missing both the Yuppie brunch family crowd and the hipster late breakfast rush (God bless Broadway Market). My understanding is that Georgian cuisine is closely related to that of Russia. The picture of Stalin next to the toilet partly contributed to this belief. Also, the only other time I’ve had a blini was in a Russian restaurant in Berlin.

What’s a blini I hear you ask? Wikipedia tells me that it’s similar to a crepe, but it uses yeast and a crepe does not. So now you know. My blini came filled with a mix of salmon and scrambled eggs. The blini itself was very nice. A lot denser then a typical pancake, it was a little sweet, very smooth and quite delicious. The filling on the other was not so good. It was very dry and I’m pretty certain I didn’t even order salmon. I’m not really a fish guy so why would I order it for breakfast? The tomato thing in the corner was quite nice as was the salad, though neither were anything to shout about.

Luckily, my dining companion (aka my girlfriend) politely left me half of her breakfast, so I got to sample The Georgian, which is Little Georgia’s take on a full English. Georgian sausage was closer to a very moist and wonderful mini meatloaf then a sausage. The scrambled eggs, unlike mine, were not at all dry and were ramped up with the welcome addition of garlic and tomato. The “snazzy beans” were a delicious surprise. Beans cooked with grated carrot and beetroot gave a wonderful earthy flavour with a surprise spicy kick. The whole thing was rounded off by two slices of toast – brown for first course, white for pudding. The word hearty is highly appropriate. It would set you up very well for a day working the fields. Or a nice lie down.

Should you ever find yourself in Hackney and in need of breakfast, lunch or a combination of the both, I would thoroughly recommend heading to Little Georgia. If you live in North London and, like Coren, don’t acknowledge the existence of East London, it’s probably not worth the trip. Plus you won’t get a seat.

Little Georgia,
A, 87 Goldsmith’s Row,
London.
E2 8QR

Turkish food is one that rewards the greedy. Thanks to its relatively cheap cost and tendency towards meze dishes, it gives you a legitimate excuse to order a whole lot of food. Don’t believe me? Look at all that food in the (poorly taken) picture above. That’s for two people. In our defence neither of us had had lunch.

First on the menu was the hummus, along with some Turkish bread. The hummus was pretty tight. Good, but nothing really to shout about. The bread on the other hand, oh boy. That shit was good. Fluffy and full of air, with a light crust; it was like eating a pillow made out of flour. Seriously good stuff. One way to improve on the bread would be to put meat on it and turn it into a pizza. Oh look, lahmacun.

Lahmacun, or Turkish pizza as it is often known, is what the name suggest. More of the wonderful house bread, with some grilled lamb on top, bit of salad on the side. Such a simple dish and yet so effective. The base was soft and tender, the meat not too over powering. Lovely. Next on the list was some aubergine thing. In what will probably be an ongoing trend within this blog, I cannot for the life of me remember what this dish is called. I can tell you that it wasn’t that great. As a big fan of the vegetable, I always like to order an aubergine dish. In retrospect, I think I made a mistake in ordering from the cold meze list, rather than the hot one. The dish was okay. Grilled aubergine with some grilled onions and peppers on top. Not hugely remarkable.

A big surprise came in the form of the spinach and onion borek. Cigarette shaped parcels of phyllo pastry containing spinach and onions (obvs), plus a mysterious ingredient that I failed to identify. I would suggest that it was za’atar because it will make me sound like I know what I’m talking about, but really I have no idea. Whatever it was, it brought a little kick to the dish, and knocked it from okay to very good.

The only proper main of the meal was a grilled lamb dish, which again I cannot remember the name of. Pieces of lamb were seasoned, grilled, and served on a bed of puréed aubergine and yoghurt, along with some grilled onions, tomatoes and pepper. The grilled vegetables were lovely and sweet; the meat pleasantly spicy, with a nice charcoal feel to it. Makes me want to install a sit down grill in my own kitchen. Finished off with a Turkish coffee and some of the sweetest baklava I’ve ever tasted.

To say that Mangal 2 is the best Turkish restaurant in London might be going a little far, but it’s certainly up there. If you’re ever in Dalston and looked for something to eat, I would heartily recommend Mangal 2.

Mangal 2
4 Stoke Newington Rd
London
N16 8BH

The main sticking points of Canteen reviews is the poor service, and the long waits. On the former, our waiter was as attentive as you would expect from a decent restaurant. So they win points there. The wait was were Canteen slipped up. At one point after we’d ordered , I decided to time how long it would take for our food to arrive. After a very long thirty minutes, our food eventually turned up. I should say that I didn’t start clock watching straight after we’d ordered. It was only when I realised we’d been waiting for a while that I decided to time them. I would comfortably guess that we actually waited 45 minutes. Does it really take that long to poach a couple of eggs and fry some bacon? Maybe they had to wait for the chicken to lay the eggs. Or maybe they don’t care. In Canteen’s defence, our waiter did comp us a free round of drinks to make up for the wait. It was a nice gesture which would have been a whole lot nicer if it weren’t for the fact that they actually charged us for one of the free drinks. If there’s one way to make a food blogger angry, it’s to charge for something that was supposed to be free.

After the long, long wait our order finally turned up and they managed to get some of it wrong. My friend’s English breakfast was missing a sausage. Feel free to make your own joke here.

What of the food? I ordered a Welsh Rarebit with a poached egg, as you can see in that wonderfully composed picture above*. I think it says a lot that I actually had this meal two weeks ago and I’d forgotten to blog about it until now. Though it looks pretty nice, it was completely and utterly unremarkable. Almost unforgettable. If it had been amazing I would have let the 45 minute slide. But it wasn’t. The egg itself was nice. The Rarebit was bland, rubbery and under seasoned. No hint of mustard either. Not worth the wait at all.

I was going to try and continue my Springsteen song rating system from my previous posts, but I can’t think of a good song to compare Canteen to. The problem being that The Boss is good; Canteen is not.

*I recently found out that you’re not supposed to use a flash when taking photos of your food. I was unaware of this, and apologise to the thousands of you that will see this. From now on, no more flash. Ever.

Previously, Daddy Donkey only operated in Leather Lanes market, and only during weekday lunchtimes. The new truck is open evenings and weekdays, and being located in Shoreditch, it will no doubt satisfy the hunger needs of every mid-20s hipster that is now completely over shitty electro, and has totally got into food. Much like every other burrito place, they offer the standard choices of burritos, tacos and salads. The first you’ll notice about the burritos at Daddy Donkey compared to everywhere else is their size. Those things are fucking huge. An accurate comparison would be an American football, or maybe a newborn baby.

Meat-wise, the selection is pretty much the same (chicken, pork, steak) as everywhere else. The ace in the hole is their Tomatillo filling, which is steak slow cooked in a combination of lime, coriander and green tomatillos, giving a super tasty, juicy, sloppy, meaty treat. The Salsa Roja packed a surprising amount of heat and the Pico de Gallo was a nice combination of tomato and coriander. Though they only offer one type of bean, no doubt due to their limited capacity, they seem to actually be able to cook them properly. Unlike those other two places, the beans at Daddy Donkey were soft and not at all chalky.

At this point, having already written two posts about burritos, I’m running out of ways to describe their fillings. How many ways can you describe guacamole? It’s basically mashed up avocados with some embellishment. There’s only so many ways to write about it. All I can say is that Daddy Donkey mashes the best avocados. Continuing the Bruce Springsteen analogy I used in my previous post, if Chipotle is The Wild, The Innocent and The E Street Shuffle, Chilango is Darkness On The Edge Of Town, that makes Daddy Donkey the Born To Run of burrito places in London*. They’re all good, but Daddy Donkey is the best. My only complaint would be the lack of hot sauces on the table, which is probably something only a dickhead soon to be failed food blogger like myself would notice, rather than being an actual legitimate complaint. So there you go.

Daddy Donkey is open right now. Go and treat yourself.

Daddy Donkey
Truman Brewery
Brick Lane

*Coincidentally the first time I went to their original truck was the day after I saw The Boss at Hyde Park. That draws a nice line under everything.

Chipotle is a new addition to the London burrito scene. The American chain opened its first, and only, British location about six months ago. Much like pretty much every other place it employs the visible production line method of assembly. You go down the line and pick your fillings. It could be suggested that everywhere else stole the idea from them, but I imagine this argument relies on the fact that Chipotle is the largest chain in America, and hence the most visible, rather then it necessarily being the innovator. Enough waffle though, what about the food?

Following my previous pork-related let down, I went for the steak. Much like the pork experience, the steak seemed a little nondescript. Being the greediest person in the group, I got to sample, and by sample I mean I ate the rest of my girlfriend’s meal, the chicken. Like the previous post, the chicken was much tastier; like it had seen some sort of seasoning and grill. The rice lacked any lime flavour, and the black beans were fairly unremarkable. My biggest chagrin with Chipotle is that they charge £1.40 for guacamole. It seems a little steep. Having said that, they forgot to charge me. I think they probably knew they were dealing with a big time food blogger.

Chipotle does have a couple of things over its competitors. Firstly, its salsas are solid. “Two-salsas David” struck again – the mild salsa was pleasantly; the hot was, unlike a lot of other places, actually hot. It took me a little by surprise. The second thing is the hot sauce selection. Instead of going for the standard choice of Cholula brand hot sauce, Chipotle have not one, but three types of Tabasco. They have the original; the milder, green one; and the real jewel in the crown, the chipotle sauce. A chipotle is a smoke-dried jalapeño, which produces a sauce with a wonderful rich smokey flavour. It’s some glorious hot sauce shit, and Chipotle seems to the only place in London that has access to this sauce, so major points to them. Believe me, I’ve looked. I think I need to organise a meet with their connect.

Overall, though Chipotle is enjoyable, and despite its hot sauce connect, I still prefer Chilango. I don’t think this post accurately describes why that is, but I do. It’s like asking why do I prefer ‘Darkness On The Edge Of Town’ to ‘The Wild, The Innocent & The E Street Shuffle’. Though both are great, one is simply better then the other. I can’t quantify it. It’s a gut feeling or a instinct. So there. Top class blogging.

I wanted to stick a video of comedian Todd Barry’s joke about Chipotle, but it hasn’t been uploaded to YouTube. If you use Spotify you can hear it here. He’s very funny. Also, the music in Chipotle is indie-rock friendly. The Dirty Projectors? On a Saturday night? Talk about a party.

Chipotle,
Charing Cross Road.