"If the material world is merely illusion, an honest guru should be as content with Budweiser and bratwurst as with raw carrot juice, tofu and seaweed slime." ~Edward Abbey
Showing posts with label Elliot's Cafe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Elliot's Cafe. Show all posts

Saturday, 11 February 2012

The Great British Burger Debate


The seemingly small matter of where one finds the best burger in London inspires a disproportionately large amount of deliberation and debate. From bona fide food critics to aspiring hacks like myself, everybody has an opinion - the only thing we seem able to agree on is that if you have it well done, yours doesn’t count. To date, Daniel ‘Young and Foodish’ Young has put together what comes closest to being a definitive list of the capital’s best bits of flattened beef, declaring the best burger in London to emanate from the Goodman kitchens. This is a fairly accurate assertion in so far as it is probably the best I tasted to date, despite a major balls-up with regards to cooking time. I sampled their wares late-December at Burger & Lobster, a Mayfair offshoot devised to satisfy public demand for the more humble end of their menu (and presumably free up tables in their restaurants for people spending vastly superior sums of money).

Even though either the person working the grill or the wait staff seemed to have got something pretty badly wrong – medium-rare arrived completely well-done – it was still a pretty awesome hunk of flesh and not at all dry, a minor miracle given the way it had been cooked. Crucially, the fries were the real deal – thin and overly salted in the disgracefully moreish, McDonald’s tradition, while the lobster dish consumed by my companion was deemed pretty flawless. I certainly deemed it an absolute steal for £20. Added to the fact that the concept was beyond brilliant – a three-item menu, spectacular cocktails, the simplest of price schemes – I was a very happy punter indeed, especially after the management offered me free drinks to compensate for the unsatisfactory greyness of my patty. 

At the other end of the spectrum, many believe that life for London’s burger aficionados began not in a well-heeled steakhouse, but in the car park of a south-east London industrial estate with Yianni Papoutsis and his Meatwagon. Again, there’s a certain amount of truth in this claim. For sure, some of the best burgers I’ve tasted this side of the pond came courtesy of Papoutsis and his #Meateasy tenure above a dilapidated pub in New Cross that just happened to be dangerously close to my university. Yet by the time the rest of my art school comrades caught on, the place hadn’t just become a cesspit of pretentiousness, it had started to churn out inconsistent bordering on average burgers, including one that was, for lack of a more eloquent phrase, burnt to shit. Don’t get me wrong:  I’ve always been one of Papoutsis’ biggest fans and love the new joint, MEATliquor, where the deep-fried pickles elicit a particularly strange type of nostalgia (I used to eat them at the now deceased branch of Hooters in Boston). But that doesn’t mean to say that I’m blind to the occasional failings of his restaurants.

Thursday, 17 November 2011

Elliot's Cafe, Borough

One of the biggest joys of studying in Elephant and Castle is the fact that every day I get to leave the place, and head out to to areas I actually enjoy going to of my own free will. Monday lunch was one such occasion where I was able to make the most of my university’s location by going elsewhere. On the recommendation of Daniel Young (he of Young and Foodish fame) and his Top 10 Burgers in London list, I made a beeline for Elliot’s CafĂ© in the heart of Borough Market. Having big pimped it by the sea the previous evening, I was now craving a top-notch example of steak’s trailer park cousin.

I went to the right place.Elliot’s offers only one burger – a cheeseburger - and I’m beginning to think that a great many establishments should follow their lead and stick to the basics, because this was one exceptional patty. Soft, juicy, and tender – the pedigree of the meat from the neighbouring Ginger Pig was evident – it was served medium-rare and came precisely as advertised. By that I mean it was pink, oh so beautifully pink, and not the gray, slug-like medium-rare that many gastro pub ‘chefs’ sling out.