Cow-a-bunga! Burger bar takes some beating
In the era of '˜food porn', the humble burger has become king.
Foodies are shunning foams and fine dining in favour of meaty slabs of flame-grilled flavour.
My Facebook feed has become flooded in the past year with pics and vids of gigantic cheese dribbled patties, devoured by bearded hipsters who look like they should have stopped scoffing burgers years ago.
But the resurgence of the simple hamburger is far from unwelcome.
For too long society accepted the anaemic Big Mac as the gold standard in fast food, while burgers were capable of much more.
That’s why joints like Scarborough’s The Cowshed have become the hip new thing on Britain’s high streets during the past few years.
With its bright furnishings, the airy venue is a million miles from the dark and dingy curry house it replaced.
It looks the part, bur far more importantly, it tastes the part.
Considering a burger is basically meat and bread with a few tasty extras chucked on top, the product being served up here is nothing short of exceptional.
The menu is a credit to what a talented, imaginative chef can do with basic ingredients.
Now if you want a cheeseburger, you can get a cheeseburger - and it will be class.
But to do so would be to deprive your pallet of pattie perfection as the pun-tastic menu is a real showcase for culinary creativity.
There are burgers on there that sound like they’ve been created by tongueless children, yet sparkle
Mine, a three-tiered bacon behemoth, was drenched in peanut butter and a savoury jam.
Reminiscent of Elvis’ fabled fried treat which probably helped kill off the king, I expected to be repulsed.
By the third bite, if I could have legally have married it I probably would.
My companion’s pork-laden burger was called the Kevin Bacon, and having seen the size of it, I thought it may have been because it caused diners to flatline, rather than the abundance of pork which crowned it.
We also ordered lush sweet potato fries and some lightly-fried onion rings while our puds - baked at the Scarborough institution that is Boddy’s - were as awesome as you’d expect.
My only criticism was the service. Our greeting was welcoming, but our waiter - casually clad not in uniform but a beanie hat and what resembled a poncho - seemed bored.
When I go out for a meal, I want smiles and smartness - not a waiter who looks like he’s just failed an audition for Nirvana.
However that’s one missed stitch on a tapestry of near-perfection.
I’ve feasted at Five Guys. I’ve battered my heart into submission at the fabled Fat Hippo.
I’ve even had a burger stuffed with Pop Tarts at Almost Famous, a Northern chain regarded by some burger aficionados as the Wembley Stadium of whoppers.
But I can say, without a second of hesitation, the best burger I’ve eaten at any of them was at The Cowshed.
The St Thomas Street venue is serving up six ounces of gastronomic glory, and it can already genuinely lay a claim to be the best place to eat in town.