Slow Food Monday

“Listen gang, I feel bad, one whole week has passed, and I haven’t churned out some beefy text for you all to chew on. This week I promise to fill your breadbasket with as many piping hot posts as I can.”     ‘G.N.’

Let’s start off with a top 5.

1.  When I look at those little silica packets I am forever being taunted by the ‘Do Not Eat’ warning, whilst in the back of my mind thinking, “but I kinda want to eat you.” , well, it emerges I kinda can.

2. I cannot wait to get a food related tattoo, maybe something involving noodles, robots, zombies and kimchi. Just need to find some inspiration.

3.  ‘Crack’ really doesn’t do it for me, but chocolate ‘crack’ might.

4.  To fry or not to fry?

5. The day we unknowingly became cannibals: except your future, the future is green.

6.  Have you ever had a sugar coated satan sandwich?(10points awarded to the writer of this article for using the word Mephistophelian).


HOLD ON ! Bonus feature coming up……….

 Joe Allen-Trophy Burger

“Can you hook me up with a burger?” I asked.
“Of course sir.” Came the quick, almost automated reply. I wondered how often they are asked this question, or if they ever say no.

Down a small street, of which one whole side is the back of a theatre, a small sign swings in the afternoon breeze. Joe Allen’s, a secluded oasis of a place, has been around since the late 70′s, serving the intelligentsia of the capital with Euro-American dishes whilst harbouring a secret burger delight for those only in the know. Dark wood, cavernous acoustics, staff dressed in pre-fad whites shirts and black ties. Paper tablecloths, red brick and blue columns. Theatre posters mingle with shots of  American sports players. Busy, full of crowded murmurs.  Service running fluidly, chaps discussing the theatre. I am relaxed and drawn in by its charm, but also by the thrill of ordering off menu.With the burgers of late being on the haggard side, this well known trophy burger should dazzle its way across the mouth, and be real show stopper.

The dinky service bell dings, my burger arrives. Served open, which let the large slices of sweet sweating bacon hit the nose, just as the plate hit the table. There were two bold scorch marks across the small brioche bun, branded, the chef meant business. The burger lurched at an angle, ready to be sauced and picked up. A generous slice of onion let you have the pleasure of selecting your ring size. You could have shoved the whole slice in there, but you would have been blowing fiery onion bubble burps all night. Keep it sophisticated my burger brethren.

The cheese had oozed its way over everything and settled down, gooey and chewy. This was a cheese that you could play around with in your mouth. Sophisticated right? The bacon;hard edges, soft centre, added to the masticating fun. A performance at first going real good, unfortunately burning out just before the triumphant finale. The bun, originally bellowous, became compressed and unforgiving. The pattie verging on spherical, dried out too quick, and once all the other good bits had disappeared the leftover meat and bun had to be finished off with the aid of a bit of red and yellow.

A shame, it could have been just one of those days. I am inclined to come back soon, because I have seen the talent, and I want to be there when this reclusive star shines. Till the curtain rises.

Greg Nay

Joe Allen
13 Exeter Street
Tel:020 7836 0651

read more burger stuff……


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