I’m lying on the sofa, stuffed. Sated. FRUTB (full right up to bursting). In my grandfather’s words “Carry I up to bed. Don’t bend I.” The reason that I’m here, digesting, snake-fashion, feeling that I’m never going to have to eat again is that for a belated birthday treat, we went to Meat Market. A dead hippy each, one fries and one chilli fries between us, and in our ravenous state, we plunged in.
This is the full dirty burger experience, on a balcony overlooking the Jubilee Market (home to sellers of every sort of psychic healing crystal you could ever want). The balcony itself is long on the urban/industrial feel, with a studiedly run-down and anonymous entrance – this is not a restaurant shouting about its presence, which actually strikes me as a little strange, given its tourist honeypot Covent Garden location.
Meat Market is Yanni Papoutsis’s latest venture; our first experience of his burger obsession was when we went to the Meat Wagon on H’s birthday. After some ignoramus stole the wagon itself, we missed out on the follow up Meateasy , before finally re-acquainting ourselves with the delights at Meat Liquor, and now the Meat Market.
The burgers were great – oozing both taste and juice, with the patties being nicely rare: the kitchen roll on the shared table is very necessary (this is not a first date emporium) Fries were thin, hot and crispy. The letdown was the chilli fries – which were harshly spiced and one dimensional particularly when compared to the burger. However, this didn’t stop us and we tucked in and didn’t stop eating until we could eat no more. The food was supported by boozy milkshakes – we went for the bourbon – a sweet, caramel-ly indulgent treat.
The final result of all this excess? My current catatonic position on the sofa.
£31, for 2.
Jubilee Market Hall