honest burgers, soho - review

Some restaurants want to be all things to all people. Welcoming but exclusive, cavernous but intimate, classic but innovative, broad in their offerings but still specialists. It’s a format that works for a select few when mastered. But for the rest of the mere mortal dining options that line our streets, do one thing really well and there's a good chance you’ll be a success.

Honest Burgers in Soho is the offshoot from the original branch in Brixton Market and opened in the summer of last year. Founded by Tom Barton and Phil Eles, the recipe for their burgers was refined over time through customer feedback via the small catering operation they started with in Brighton. When the unit in Brixton became available, they snapped it up as a perfect spot to settle in the big smoke and have not looked back since.

The menu at Honest Burgers is comprised of burgers that all come with chips. Fillings are free-range chicken, their exclusive supply of dry aged beef mince from butchers The Ginger Pig (there are three variations of this option helped by a handy flow chart), or a spiced vegetable fritter. There is also a daily special. Sides come in the form of more chips (delivered with each burger anyway), a green salad, beetroot and apple slaw, and a chipotle mayonnaise. And that is the food menu in its entirety. 

Brief menus combined with occupied seats have my restaurant barometer reading reaching for the skies; you know good things are going down when the two are holding hands.

A maiden visit means opting for the namesake dish - it will be the longest serving entry with a recipe that's been sculpted over time. The Honest comes with a sweet red onion relish, smoked bacon, pickles and lettuce, with the thick patty draped in a layer of melted mature cheddar and sandwiched between a glazed, toasted brioche bun. 

From the list of things I was anticipating from this meal, a disappointing first bite did not make an entry. But it's what I got; there were no meaty juices collecting at the corners of my mouth to mop up with a rogue tip of tongue, and the centre of the patty was quite tough and dry. It was not unpleasant by any means, but it wasn’t the dripping, glistening, yielding slab of meat I had hoped for. 

It was the final morsel of this burger that revealed the potential of its content - it was soft and savoury and succulent. Coupling this with the fact one of my companions had a centre that had felt no heat whatsoever (it was pink as rare and not medium as we were told to expect), I suspect we were subject to a cook that needs a bit more scrutiny. All other components were perfectly befitting of the stacked-high jaw-stretching satisfaction one gets from a good burger. But if the meat had been cooked with more skill, I suspect it would have been excellent.

And the sides? Good grief, the sides. The slaw was vibrant and earthy and slightly sweet from the apple. And by the way, I don’t really like chips. I don’t even care for potatoes that much. But these fries were something else. Crisp exteriors, fluffy centres, tossed in finely chopped rosemary and liberal salt. Hot and savoury and a complete palate riot with the whisp of smoky heat from the chipotle mayonnaise. Get a second portion. Get a third.

Everything about Honest Burgers is unpretentious. Whilst centrally located in Soho, it’s situated on a quieter, small side street (Meard St, off Dean St.). It is bereft of any decoration other than the giant blackboard on one wall and a series of hooks to hang your coat on. Tables and chairs are basic wooden affairs (made by Tom and his step-father). The food is served in the thin metal blue-rimmed pie dishes you can probably buy in bulk from Costco. The light bulbs are pared-back bare. 

And in the same way the attraction of substance and intellect can be far more powerful than lusting over looks, I think it’s sexy. And I want to (and will) go back.

My rating: 3.5/5

Liked lots: chips; atmosphere; location; interiors; fantastic value; The Ginger Pig exclusivity; not feeling like I’d eaten a pile of filth and having to contend with a bout of self-loathing; no reservations but they very helpfully take your number and text you when a table becomes available so you can go and have a drink somewhere and return - wonderful
Liked less: my slightly tough patty - I’m almost certain it was just bad luck
Good for: potato converts; spontaneous dining; small groups; friends; a cheap good dinner

Afiyet olsun.

CUTS - a forza win & the ginger pig pop-up - review

Red meat is not something I indulge in too frequently at home. Partly because if I did, it would be quite an expensive habit (when I do entertain it I’ll splurge on high welfare free range), and partly because handsome hunks of loins and rumps take a decent amount of time to cook and are therefore, in my mind, best reserved for the slower pace of life weekends are so good at. 

So when the opportunity arises to have not one but three glorious and often underused cuts of marvellous muscle sourced from none other than The Ginger Pig cooked for me to succulent perfection by tong-tastic bearded professionals in a single evening, I’m jumping at the chance like a frog on fire. Did I mention they’re cooked outside over coals? Exactly.

For a hotly anticipated and select 30 days over the summer of 2013 that was, supper-club stalwarts Forza Win teamed up with beloved butchers The Ginger Pig in a gathering of flesh and fire, pork and panzanella, rump and rib-eye, cocktails and coals and a lot of people chowing down on some seriously good dinner.

Each Thursday to Sunday between 25th July and 22nd September saw piles of salivating punters following their nose to locate the disused East End pickle factory hosting the carnivorous carousal, guided by wafts of quality meat browning on hot grills. Around a vast communal dining table constructed from salvaged wood, 70 clientele were seated each night to enjoy four courses of Tuscan inspired dishes cooked with expertise, executed simply and presented on beautiful big sharing platters passed round and picked off. 

Commandeering the custom-built sustainable English firewood and charcoal burning behemoth was chef Nick Fulton (previously of The Orchard in Brockley), along with a little help from his friends.

Large mixing bowls of panzanella accompanied the meats, full of multicoloured ripe tomatoes, lightly pickled red onions and oily crunchy croutons. The meat marathon began with juicy hunks of 80-day Longhorn beef rump (from the top of the rear leg) served with polenta croutons hardening from the post-Parmesan melt, a deeply flavoured wild mushroom confit, and plates slashed with drizzles of garlic cream.

Round two presented itself as slices of lamb neck fillet (textured and muscular from the top of the backbone) tenderised to the touch of a plump baby’s thigh thanks to an overnight marinade in rosemary and lemon, and served with a vibrant sweet pea and marjoram purée, whole firm peas and fresh pea shoots. A wonderful pea-off to accompany the luscious lamb.

Tender pork rib-eye (boned-out shoulder from the front leg) rounded off these class cuts, a blackened exterior encasing succulent flavoursome flesh within and my favourite of the three meats; served with firm Italian beans slow-cooked with fatty lardons and a side of grilled bitter treviso lettuce. 

Delicate silken panna cotta flavoured with lavender and served with blackberry compote, espresso and homemade biscotti bark concluded the evening’s delightful proceedings.

CUTS was a novel dining affair in an unusual setting and with a communal and sociable format that many won’t have experienced before, not to mention the food was utterly delightful. It’s had it’s run this summer but due the runaway success, I would put good money on seeing this collaboration resurface at some point in the future. And if it does, you surely must go.

My rating: 4/5

Afiyet olsun.

This review can also be found on the Your Local Guardian website.