In the last couple of years, smash burgers have taken over. This is a relief. “Gourmet” burgers were the standard for too long. Thick, dense beef patties eased into brioche (an abomination) and partnered with disastrous accoutrements such as caramelised onions and blue cheese.
They were likely to be topped with onion rings, those in which entire slices are undercooked inside “beer batter” (nonsense) and hula hooped on to wooden kebab sticks; the sort supermarkets use to skewer dry “koftas”. In any case, remove these and the whole preparation falls apart.
Worse still are those covered in pulled pork and all manner of sloppy, vibe-debauching sauces. I do not want everything to taste like Sriracha and I do not want to pay £17.95.
In the country pub I worked at for many years, one of my jobs each morning was to prepare burgers such as these. As my onions cooked down slowly with sugar, balsamic vinegar and thyme, I would mix beef mince – locally sourced, native breed – with breadcrumbs, egg, Worcestershire sauce and parsley, and shape it all into mountainous formations. It was the late 2000s in the Home Counties: the architects and the insurance brokers needed their weekend treat. So many pints of Doom Bar.
The second coming of smash burgers is cause for celebration because thin and flash-fried is how burgers should be. Easy, quick, transportable sandwiches that put beef on a pedestal and let it shine.
Buns must be sesame and really only diced white onions, gherkins, ketchup and mustard are required. Shredded lettuce has a place but slices of fridge-cold tomatoes do not.
A good smash burger is deceptively light. It is one of America’s great inventions. A ball of good beef is pressed on to a hot plate, fat glistening, steam rising and the sound of oil sizzling. Patties cook in minutes and their dark brown exterior is jagged and crisp and deep with flavour – and importantly – bigger in circumference than the bun in which it is housed.
It must fold over the sides slightly, which is darkly prophetic in that it is what happens to your belly if too many are eaten. Slices of American cheese must be yellow overcoats, still melting when you take your first bite.
An example of a credible smash burger in the UK is found at Supernova in Soho. Those who disfavour popular restaurants that get mainstream media coverage and airtime on Instagram will probably tell you that the burgers aren’t particularly good. But they are, so long as the queue isn’t too long.
Not award-winning by any stretch, nothing on the burgers at, say, Smashed NYC in Manhattan, but well made and structurally sound, with fine reverence placed on simplicity.
Honest Burgers, the national group that has traded in big burgers for a decade or more, added a smashed version to its menu a couple of years ago after identifying a change in mood. I like Honest – more so now there are smash burgers for under £10. First, the beef is decent quality, and it stays juicy and flavourful beneath the crust thanks to skilful cooking. Chefs are liberal with seasoning, too, and the brown butter mayonnaise is frippery but the sort that works.
Supra Burger, a smash burger pop-up at Cocotte in north London, is also on my list, but there is space for more. So no wonder European brands are queuing up to flog smash burgers in British cities. When people here get a taste for something – proper tacos, American pizza, frenzied doorstep sandwiches – they really latch on and there might be a two- or three-year window before boredom sets in.
First up is Gasoline Grill from Copenhagen, a brand that started out small in 2016, launching in a petrol station and attracting wild queues. It now has seven sites in Denmark, one of which is found at a food market run by the Noma Group.
From August 12 and for a four-week residency, these will be served in the ground floor restaurant at the Standard Hotel in King’s Cross, a place known for its parties, though none become quite as mad as the ones at the branch in New York. Smash burgers sans fries are decent pre-party fodder although apparently Gasoline Grill’s crinkle-cut fries should not be ignored.
And then there is Junk, a French smash burger restaurant which is gambling with opening a permanent venue. Junk started in Paris in 2013 and has grown quickly as Gasoline has, opening sites across France. It serves smash burgers as they should be, but sets itself apart with whimsy: available are single pattie burgers, then double, all the way up to five. Silly really, but French fancy is all the rage because their irreverence is so commendable.
Junk is opening in Soho in September and there will be queues, especially when people hear about the truffle mayo. Smashing.
