I am certainly not quick off the mark in my first visit to this much-mentioned place, but I will most definitely be quick to go back. Opened last November, following the great success of their Meatwagon and #Meateasy pop-up, Yianni Papoutsis and Scott Collins' burger joint Meat Liquor is fast becoming legendary.
Testament to this, my burger-loving friend Alice and I rocked up in Welbeck St last night to find a queue winding itself alarmingly far down the street - and that's 6 months on from it's opening.
Unfazed (we had been warned), we got in line and got chatting and half an hour later, caught up and properly hungry, we were at the door and on in to the grungy darkness of the joint.
This place is cool - an ornate, historical building tarted up with graffiti, a bit of grime and good tunes thrown in - Alice and I agreed it would make for quite nice little date venue.
Lit only by red strip lighting and tea lights in jam jars, we more or less felt our way to the bar and, on the recommendation of the mighty friendly barman (oi oi), I had a tankard of the 'House grog' in hand before I knew it. Slightly intimidating with it's '2 serves per person' limit, the grog packed quite a punch but it's Um Bongo sour sweetness was just the antidote to another 'Terrible Tuesday'.
Settled into the swing by our cocktails, we were taken to our table - a nice 'breakfast' bar in the centre of the restaurant beneath the impressive domed ceiling. Perched on high stools, we debated the menu, settling for a starter of deep fried pickles, followed by a bacon cheeseburger each and a side of fries to share.
Oh mama - such fatty boum boum bliss! The battered pickles were heaven-sent. A pretty serious gherkin fan, I was almost more excited about these than I was about the burger. And they didn't disappoint: the batter was crisp and hot, almost sweet, the bite of the pickle bringing a delicious tang, not to mention the creamy blue cheese dunking dip.
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Appetites well and truly whetted, our burgers arrived in all their greasy glory. The buns were beautifully soft, with a nice glazed shine. The bacon and cheese generously layered. The burger was a hearty affair, a tasty hunk of proper meat - my one teeny gripe, that it could have been rarer, but then I am a French girl, meat could always be rarer. Anyway, we bloody nailed it, leaving behind only a couple of little chips we just couldn't squeeze in.
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Licking my sauce covered fingers and patting my tum I thought to myself, probably a good thing this wasn't a date.
Testament to this, my burger-loving friend Alice and I rocked up in Welbeck St last night to find a queue winding itself alarmingly far down the street - and that's 6 months on from it's opening.
Lit only by red strip lighting and tea lights in jam jars, we more or less felt our way to the bar and, on the recommendation of the mighty friendly barman (oi oi), I had a tankard of the 'House grog' in hand before I knew it. Slightly intimidating with it's '2 serves per person' limit, the grog packed quite a punch but it's Um Bongo sour sweetness was just the antidote to another 'Terrible Tuesday'.
Settled into the swing by our cocktails, we were taken to our table - a nice 'breakfast' bar in the centre of the restaurant beneath the impressive domed ceiling. Perched on high stools, we debated the menu, settling for a starter of deep fried pickles, followed by a bacon cheeseburger each and a side of fries to share.
Oh mama - such fatty boum boum bliss! The battered pickles were heaven-sent. A pretty serious gherkin fan, I was almost more excited about these than I was about the burger. And they didn't disappoint: the batter was crisp and hot, almost sweet, the bite of the pickle bringing a delicious tang, not to mention the creamy blue cheese dunking dip.
.JPG)
Appetites well and truly whetted, our burgers arrived in all their greasy glory. The buns were beautifully soft, with a nice glazed shine. The bacon and cheese generously layered. The burger was a hearty affair, a tasty hunk of proper meat - my one teeny gripe, that it could have been rarer, but then I am a French girl, meat could always be rarer. Anyway, we bloody nailed it, leaving behind only a couple of little chips we just couldn't squeeze in.
.JPG)
Licking my sauce covered fingers and patting my tum I thought to myself, probably a good thing this wasn't a date.
MEATmarket next week??
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