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Doorstop wrote:Go on.
jodieohdoh wrote:
I also remember that was the first time I ever encountered a bendy straw.
Doorstop wrote:jodieohdoh wrote:
I also remember that was the first time I ever encountered a bendy straw.
Jesus .. that made me laugh so much I've actually hurt myself a wee bit ... and I don't know why I find it so funny.
Allan Brown: How to murder a burger | The Sunday Times
http://www.thesundaytimes.co.uk/sto/new ... e40093.ece 1/2
They may never be a classy
meal, but the hamburgers at
West took the meaning of
junk food to a whole new
level
Published: 10 July 2005
The Meal: Allan Brown: How to
murder a burger
My personal favourite was the Buck Rogers Burger Station,
in Glasgow’s city centre. This place tried to convince diners
not only that they were eating somewhere in Wyoming, but
that it was presently the year 2199 and Twiki would be along
to take the dessert order any minute. The special effects were
achieved by hiring persons of restricted growth and getting
them to climb into science-fiction costumes. The place closed
decades ago, you won’t be surprised to learn.
Hamburgers, though, are the Zelig of the food world — if you
remember the character from the Woody Allen film — endlessly mutable, limitlessly adaptable.
They can wrap their buns round any concept under the sun. When nostalgia for the 1950s is all the
rage, hamburgers can answer the call easily and authentically. When somebody opens a restaurant
staffed by people in Dalek costumes, the menu is not likely to offer classic French cuisine. It offers
burgers.
Just as the times change, so too do burgers. These days, with the yen for organic and specially
sourced ingredients, the humble meat patty has re-emerged as the gourmet burger. This glorious
entity is increasingly common on gastropub menus, a burger that’s been to university and hangs
out with a better class of bun.
West consolidates the onward march of the gourmet burger. Or, at least, it would were it not so
jaw-droppingly hopeless. It is true that only a fraction of what it produced on the evening of my
visit was vile; sadly, that fraction was considerably more than half.
The place is a dark, student-bar-style room, slowly devolving into tattiness, with a thumping rock
soundtrack playing loudly overhead. The menu offers burgers with about 12 different toppings,
from the breakfast burger (bacon and fried egg) to the Mexican (guacamole and onion rings).
There are no starters, you go straight from nought to giant lump of meat in five seconds.
The next bit resembled a stunning ballet of idiocy. An Italian chicken burger was delivered to one
of the Other Persons, a vegetarian who had actually requested the burger made from carpet
underlay, as non-meaters do. Its removal was requested. But the remainder of the table’s dishes
arrived in spasmodic sequence in its absence, meaning the Other Person had to twiddle her thumbs
while everybody else ate. It hadn’t occurred to anybody in the kitchen that this was an unsocial and
impractical way to proceed.
I’d ordered the Surf ’n’ Turf, advertised as a burger topped with king prawns. In fact, it had a
smattering of tiny pink cat’s-sneeze prawns scattered over it. That was the least of it. The burger
had been cooked to within an inch of its life and had assumed a thin, frangible crust that gave off a
small noise when tapped. At the edges, this crust compacted into a thick heel of burnt carbon,
marbled with strange streaks of orange. Once the outer membrane was breached, the meat inside
offered nothing delightful by way of recompense — quite the reverse.
By now the complaints were coming so thick and fast that our waitress delegated three other
waiters to deal with us, who now and then traipsed over with heads bowed and wary, defensive
glances.
Giant burgers came with the salad contained within the bun, creating huge and unwieldy
monstrosities. An army of ingredients was assembled as if to placate us — olives, mozzarella, pesto
and so on — but the quality was poor, the service was concussed and the prices (£6.50 a burger, on
average) seemed excessive.
Burgers have rarely been billed as classy, so a visit to a gourmet burger restaurant should feel lush,
sinful and moreish. West, on the other hand, is the most lessish restaurant I’ve ever visited.
Rating West
Food 1/5
Atmosphere 1/5
Service 2/5
Value 1/5
Overall 1/5
West, 1397 Argyle Street, Glasgow,, dinner for two with wine £40
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