Bar Boulud - Knightsbridge

Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park, London, 66 Knightsbridge, London, SW1X 7LA

Sometimes, you just have to treat yourself, don’t you? Lording it up in the smarter parts of town: brogues polished, trousers pressed, shirt ironed, notes spill like rain from your solid gold crocodile clip, while the largest, pimpinest cubic zirconia, sparkles atop your walking cane.

Or, you can lord it up in a slightly different way. A clean-ish pair of trainers on your feet and a £19 shirt hidden beneath your least stained sweater, you jump from the bus, sweeping through the doors before anyone can turn you away, passing a host of mid-ranking celebrities, before talking a table for two and pretending you might consider ordering something other than the cheapest item on the menu - the burger.

This isn't any burger though: it's the burger at Bar Boulud in Knightsbridge. A burger that many/some have named the best in London.

Now, I've ranted with the rest of them about how good a burger can realistically be. Mashed mince, seasoned, grilled, and slapped in a bread bun will only ever attain a certain level of excellence and is never going to be the sort of food that reduces all others to ash.

Disagree? Okay, answer this: steak or burger? Yeah, thought so. Argument over.

My, this is a tasty burger, though. Not cheap at £17; but, when the next cheapest main course on the menu is almost twice the price, you can't complain. Seriously, you can't. You're eating in Knightsbridge, in a restaurant where they offer you a £24 glass of wine on arrival - which, you obviously say no to - where the service is impeccable, the toilets clean enough to eat off, and the napkins more luxurious than your own bed sheets. Around the corner, about ten doors down, President Obama is dining with the royals. Crane your neck and you might see him through a window. Yes, all this for just £17!

For those who still have their eyebrows raised at the price; drop them, immediately. Think about it, a fantastic burger, splendid service, and two hours renting a square metre of Knightsbridge real estate, all for just £17. You can’t - legitimately - park your arse in such an exclusive part of London for less £. It's the deal of the century.

The Yankee is the only £17 burger on the menu (£18 with cheese). It's a tall stack of a burger, with a serious slice of pickle and thick rounds of tomato, perched upon a solid inch of beef that sits on the rare side of 'medium-rare'. The bun, perfectly toasted. No hint of stale bread, no touch of a burnt edge. Slice it in half, squeeze, lift, and eat with your fingers, watching as the ooze of meat juice and ketchup dribbles dangerously close to the cuffs of your white shirt.

Again, do I need to spell it out? You're eating in Knightsbridge with your fingers, surrounded by people wealthy enough to drink wine at £24 a glass and there’s juice dribbling down your chin, all for just £17. This is the culinary equivalent of manning the barricades - a big meaty middle-finger to the establishment. All for just £17.

And then we have the chips. Sure, some people don’t put much stock in fries; a carbohydrate filler, playing second fiddle to the main act. But, honestly, how disproportionately disappointing are rubbish chips? Or, worse still, rubbish chips served in a miniature frying basket or fake newspaper cone? There’s many a chef and/or restaurant manager out there, who thinks the sophistication of a chip can be increased by the receptacle it’s served in. These people need to leave the business, now.

The chips at Bar Boulud aren’t served on a plate. Instead, they’re served in a small metal bucket. But, wait! Here it makes sense. Here the bucket is hot, so the chips stay warm well into the second half of the burger. Genius! Take a bow. This is what a novel receptacle is for - function, not an awfully misplaced attempt at ‘style’.

So, finally, this is what you get for your £17 - perfection. A perfect burger, in a perfect bun, served with perfect chips, in a perfectly warm bucket, by perfect staff, alongside a scattering of celebrities, piped piano music, and Obama eating next door. Did I mention, all for just £17?!

Go on, find a better meal in London, for the money, and I’ll eat those clean-ish trainers of mine.

Boom Burger - Notting Hill

272 Portobello Road, London, W10 5TY

Burgers, burgers everywhere, so let’s all stuff our face.

The relentless burger boom continues a pace into 2015, with a Byron appearing on every street corner and not a cloud in the medium-rare sky.

I like burgers, I truly do. The sweet, meaty, gooey goodness of fried minced-beef and cheese wedged within a solid white bun. It's the simple things in life that keep me going. One day, bust will follow boom though. What goes up, must come down. Etc, etc, etc. Burger vans, stands, and joints will make way for the Hawaiian grills, Bolivian rat 'n' rice balls, or whatever other cuisine next floats the hipster boat.

It'll be a shame, for their owners, but the rest of us can breath a little easier and take the belt back down a notch. Besides, we have plenty of South American rodent to eat.

Boom Burger in Notting Hill is one such 'restaurant' riding the waves (I never know whether to call a burger ‘joint’ a restaurant). Today, one place nestled under the dripping flyover of West London's A40; tomorrow, another nestled under the dripping ceiling of Brixton Village. An expansion from yesterday's hipsterville into today's.

Boom Burger is Jamaican themed. Where their standard burger is concerned, I'm not sure what that means. The burger has meat, cheese, and an onion relish. No Jamaican flavours added here, but as I’ve said before, I’m ignorant of most things Caribbean. Why, onion relish could well be a delicacy there.

Continuing my ignorance, I know not a thing about cooking plantain either. Still though, I know a slightly solid plantain lacking in sweetness when I see one. Perhaps not ripe enough? I don’t know, but I do know they weren’t great.

The burger, on the other hand, was fine. Said to be cooked medium rare, it turned up grey, but wasn't lacking for juice or flavour. The cheese and relish giving a sweet bite, on top of that soft meat. The bread, holding together well in the face of a slight liquid overload.

The premises though. Well, you can't blame the owners for the state of the flyover, the market stalls, or the piles of rubbish outside the door. You can, however, blame them for the shabby interior, the door that kept on banging, and the general untidiness of the place.

Okay, I’m buying a burger from a market in Notting Hill. I still expected a better standard though. I want to feel as if I can sit, eat, and wait to digest my food, not want to gulp ‘n’ blow out of there.

It was a real shame. I’ve wanted to visit Boom Burger for a long time. Now that I have, I don’t think I’ll be running back any time soon.

MEATmission - Hoxton Market

314-15 Hoxton Market, London, N1 6HG

What more can be said about burgers? That now ubiquitous food that has swept through the streets, appearing in every restaurant, every market, and everything in between. Don't mistake me, I like burgers. I've eaten many - many good, many bad, and still have many more to go in London alone. I've just run out of words for them, and I think others have too. At their best, they're rare, juicy, flavoursome, often sweet, accompanied by great tasting condiments, sauces, or other that light up tastebuds; at their worst, they're grey, soggy, stale, smothered in limp lettuce, and drowned beneath cheap ketchup. Surely that's enough?

I can't then comment much on the burger at MEATmission. That's my fault, not theirs. It was a burger. Cooked well, of a good size, and definitely not soggy. Perfect for one of our party who relished the thought of a burger, fries, 'genuinely real' Coca-Cola, and presumably the shinny booth we sat in as well - to complete the American look. Not that MEATmission is Yankee themed, but a burger is American to anyone from outside of London.

The unassuming door to MEATmission betrays any hint of what lies within, to the point where, if it weren't for the large luminous letters, you'd be forgiven for thinking the place closed. Inside, the illuminated imitation stained glass ceiling creates dark corners where diners hide, smearing their faces with some of the messier burger options on the menu, and swigging from litre+ jugs of beer and cider. The bar is a spider-like forged metal monster, crazily disorientating with the number of taps that hang from it. Essentially, it's Shoreditch distilled in to a single venue.

And needless to say, MEATmission has to be experienced, if only for that ambience.

Patty and Bun - James Street

54 James St, London, W1U 1EU

Many people wrongly believe that burgers are eaten by slovenly Meat Loaf look-a-likes, who delight in nothing more than pushing 6 ounces of beef and bread through their teeth while trying not to choke on their own saliva. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, it's those healthier-than-thou types - lacking as they do any experience in proper burger consumption - who dribble meat juice down their slim chin and minute wrists, pausing to mop the table, floor, and their laps with ream-after-ream of paper napkins. The well-practiced among us are deft at handling a burger, skilled in the art of dribbling only on the plate, elbows apart - knees as well, if no table - with only one napkin soiled. 

Patty and Bun - located just off Oxford Street, near Bond Street station - serve a burger which requires a high level of control. Not only is the plate absent, increasing the risk of post-spill run-off, but the moisture of the meat combined with several other wet ingredients creates a 'perfect storm' for the amateur. Elbows here should be set at 4 and 8. Don't mistake this for criticism, however. The ingredients bound inside a Patty and Bun 'ARI GOLD' Cheeseburger are a near perfect taste-sensation, featuring amongst other things traditional sweet-sweet plastic cheese, pickled onions, and smokey mayo. The burger does require two hands to manoeuvre effectively; unfortunately, this means that a handful of rosemary salt covered chips between each bite has to be foregone, leaving them all for the end and my belt another hole down.

With burgers this good, it's hard to see why Patty and Bun only has the one venue - albeit slap-bang in the centre of London. I'd wager that we'll see them expand soon though, jostling for position in a sea of Byron's and Honest Burgers - and I'd wager that they'll float fairly well.