A warm refuge from the cold after wandering around the Bristol Light Festival. Some old favourites (fried chicken with a beautiful soy and honey glaze, katsu sauce-d fried which looked initially stingy on the sauce but soon revealed a deep well underneath the surface), and this time trying the Korean corn dogs, doused in chipotle mayo and a sweet ketchup. The doriyaki, with a green tea filling and cherry couli, hit the spot for dessert nicely.
Grabbing a quick bite after walking Alasdair over to a gig on Wapping Wharf, I have to pick and instinct takes me to Pigsty for the first time in just over five years. I figure I can get in and out in 20 minutes, a theory which is confirmed when I enter to find I am literally the only customer at 7.30 on a Thursday night. Oh boy. The Proper Cow burger lives up to its name - the bacon is a tad much and too crispy (from someone who really does prefer it crispy), but the duelling chimi mayo and chipotle honey ketchup call it a hard-fought draw, the patty itself is rich and deep, and the fries are nicely seasoned.
We braved Cribbs on a Saturday in January and true to that experience, we had a Burger King in the food court. Where 20 years ago I might have told you that Burger King was superior to McDonald’s, that has long since passed - the burgers are practically atomic, the chips few and far between, and this time when I chose to splurge beyond a basic combo meal, they couldn’t even correctly give me onion rings. Ah well.
A quick bite to eat before Alasdair’s preview as part of the (don’t rant, Sam, don’t rant) Bristol Comedy Festival. I do like a banh mi; I’m not an expert, but I don’t think fried chicken is necessarily the most traditional filling - but still. It’s good stuff. It’s well-adorned with veg and chilis, but it’s over-stuffed and the bread is a little too tough, or at least insufficiently brittle, to avoid the filling going everywhere upon bite. The fries a good, if a little overly paprika’d.
I was doing so well, but I was so hungry as I returned from the Watershed that temptation overtook me. The Mucker remains one of the best burgers in Bristol (and, believe me, I’ve checked). It’s the bacon and caper aioli that does it, so much so that I get extra on the side for the ancho fries. The lemonade always hits the spot - the classic for me, although it was a treat to overhear multiple people question what echinacea lemonade is. I remember when these burgers were impossibly wet to eat; how they managed to reduce that whilst keeping it as delicious is a scientific feat of our age.
Grabbing a quick bite to eat after the train up to Birmingham. I note they’re now selling the MOTH cocktails, but alas, Dry January. I have my normal order - the Shackmeister, a perfectly unhealthy cheeseburger with a very nice, creamy, tangy sauce and crispy shallots; the crinkle-cut fries; and a lemonade, a little less nice than usual. Equally, the burger a little overdone on the edges. But, did the job and hit the spot and I’d prefer it to a McDonald’s any day.
A suitably cheap set menu for a section lunch at work. I play it safe with what I assume Bella Italia can not go too wrong doing - garlic doughballs to start, a chicken milanese for the main, a brownie for dessert. They are all the Fisher Price versions of those things - recognisable enough for a child to point to, but uninspiring.
Not the platonic ideal of my standard order of a house burger (today, a slightly over-toasted bun and under-chees-ed patty), but it’s always something of a treat to kick back on the sofa with this before a film. The chips are surprisingly good, or at least hit some specific spot. The construction of the burger appears to be different every time, so it’s nice to add a frisson of chance into the mix.
Gone are the heady early days of the long queues to get in here - it’s not too late in the day and it’s comparatively quiet. Killing time between being in town and Nosferatu at the Watershed, we figure that Tonkotsu’s boast of the importance of the 42 second ramen means we should be in and out quickly. Less so than you’d hope, but here we are. It’s still up there for me (although not the best in Bristol), with a delightfully creamy base, and an extra egg for ol’ me. Chicken karaage on the side is beautifully done likewise. We don’t have time for an ice cream sando, but next time, next time.
Maddie is trying to fit in as many social engagements as possible before leaving for Seattle, and I am delighted to abet. We go for lunch with Alasdair at Oowee, all of two minutes down the road, which is dangerous when there’s an £8.95 lunch deal and the frequency with which I work from home these days. I try not to make it a Friday regular. Today, though, I eschew the lunch deal and splash out on a Big Cheese - a patty and baconaisse-spread bun practically glued together by a mix of American and Swiss cheese (forever chasing that high of the original Moor Burger, Please from Burger Theory), with some Marmite waffle fries on the side. It is all too much, and absolutely cannot become habit.
I enjoy a café trip on New Year’s Day to walk off the hangover. This used to be Flour House as a staple, but now I live quite far from there, it doesn’t quite seem worth it. We strolled down North Street to take in the options and settled on Tin Can. And so 2025 begins with their house baked beans on toast, with added hash browns and sausage. I object - genuinely - to paying £3.50 extra for a single, solitary sausage, and it genuinely is not worth it. The sourdough toast retains just about enough bite post-bean-slathering, and it’s nicely topped off by the herb oil. This won’t - I hope - be the best thing I eat in 2025, but it’s a suitable start before an abandoned walk round the park.