Monthly Archives: September 2011

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Four in Hand – 105 Sutherland St, Paddington

My day job requires some interstate travel. These days, it’s Sydney and sometimes it’s an overnight trip. For most overnighters, I’m far too knackered to bother with anything remarkable for dinner. I’m probably more confortable at the hotel bar or a local pub over whatever book I’ve brought with me or, boringly catching up on work. How sad.

If I do grab something to eat, I’ll tend to head back to my hotel room and order room service. I cannot bring myself to sit at a table for one looking all forlorn, with my bottom lip quivering and all of the other tables of two; the couples and the other tables of four and six, looking over at me and feeling sorry for me because I’m eating alone.

Pathetic, isn’t it?

However my latest epiphany was to better utilise my occasional stayovers in Sydney. There are a whole bunch of restaurants north of the border that remain on my wish list and it would be remiss of me as a food blogger to let these opportunities pass me by, even if it meant [gasp] eating alone!

The likes of Marque, Quay and the other three-hatted establishments are probably a little too extreme for what really boils down to a simple meal out on a school night. Well, it’s probably a little more than that. Regardless, Four in Hand was my clear first choice, by a mile. After hearing a lot about Colin Fassnidge this year, I’ve remained intrigued at his refined take on the Nose-to-Tail food philosophy. Can you take such robust cuts of an animal and make them pretty? I was going to find out.

Four in Hand is a pub with a really good dining room attached… or is it the other way around? Anyway, the pub itself is your typical inner-suburban Sydney pub; tiled walls retained but not tired in looks… it reminded me a little of the front bar at the Lincoln in Carlton, albeit with a few pokie machines tucked away (nearly) out of view. With the youngish post-work crowd filtering in to take advantage of the $5 ‘happy hour’ schooners, served by the effervescent and quite attractive female bar staff, you would not expect there was a two-hat restaurant attached to this establishment. Only do you begin to realise that this is a little different when the specials board in the front bar reads Pork Rillettes and Crumbed Pigs Tail with Celeriac Remoulade.

After a few cleansing $5 schooners, I prised myself from the bar stool and made my way into the dining room, to be ushered to my solitary table for one [sob], near the window. On the converse, when you enter the dining room, you would not expect there was a bustling, lively pub on the other side of the door. It’s a great contrast.

The menu is fairly minimal, with six or so different starters and the same of mains. This makes good sense, given there’s so much care, attention and effort invested into some very pretty dishes. The over-sized mirror on the wall next to the kitchen lists the specials of the night; freshly shucked natural oysters and a tempting cumin-spiced 12-hour lamb shoulder served with baby carrots, colcannon, minted yoghurt and rosemary jus ($88 for 2 people). One of the number of waiting staff that served me on the night tried to coerce me: “it could feed one and if there’s any left over, we could organise a doggy bag”. Then I see the beast of a shoulder being served to another table. I don’t think so.

There was to be no ordering off the menu on this night. I was here for the whole experience and I given it may be some time before I visited Four in Hand again, I may as well go out with all guns blazing, taking no prisoners, etc, etc. There were two degustation menus to choose from; a five course degustation menu ($90 + an optional $60 with matching wines) or you could really give it a nudge with the Chef’s Menu; an eight course degustation menu ($120 + an optional $70 with matching wines).

I ambitiously opted for the latter and proceedings were duly opened with some top notch sourdough (from Iggy’s, which seems to be the bread of choice in good Sydney restaurants), good butter and a Delgado Zuleta ‘La Goya’ Manzanilla Sherry as a palate cleanser. This was closely followed by the kitchen’s amuse-bouche; a smoked fish, paprika and basil soup, aptly served in an espresso cup (the colour of the soup resembled a good crema). The soup was light and refreshing. A citrus zing hit the sides of my tongue, finishing on creaminess. A great start.

Soon after, my first course of seared Bonito with avocado, apple jelly and cucumber arrived. A very pretty dish, unusually served in a tuna tin atop some pebbles. An interesting touch but I’m not sure as to what it represented. It made me feel like I was eating a bloody good tin of cat food (note: this is a weird compliment) due to the tuna and jelly components. A 2010 Domäne Wachau Gewürztraminer, was a light and fruity accompaniment to the dish.

The second course was to become my favourite of the night. Sometimes you eat or drink something that instantly makes you smile because it’s so damn good and this dish did just that. A small mound of well seasoned, fresh crab, lobster and corn kernels were served in a shallow bowl with a soft, yielding braised pig’s tail. An accompanying petite jug of rich, fishy bisque was poured at the table by one of the waiting staff to complete this unforgettable dish. The saltiness of the bits of corn and seafood were heavenly against the sweetness and unctuousness of the pig’s tail and the creaminess of the bisque which also provided the slightest ever back note of spice. A perfect marriage of flavours and textures. In short, the most defining superlative is that it was just fucking amazing. The accompanying Denis Pommier Petit Chablis Chardonnay was again a great match, particularly with the creaminess of the bisque.

Course number three was a well cooked piece of roasted kingfish, smoked eel, beetroot reduction, beetroot leaves and a soft pillow of gnocchi. An exceptional range of textures, lightened by the beetroot leaves. The smokiness and saltiness of the eel played off against the sweet reduction. Just make sure you eat this dish with a little care and caution as the potential splashback from the beetroot could ruin one’s shirt if not careful. As for wine, my notes go as far as telling me that the accompanying drop was an ‘Italian white’… Great note taking, Paul.

We then moved into the serious stuff, crossing from the lighter dishes into some more hearty fare. Pig; head to toe or nose to tail… or something similar was a great example of an uber-rich dish done well, leaving you (greedily) wanting more. A piece of perfectly cooked pork belly, a chop from a rack (complete with crackling) and pickled snout were served on a dark wooden board with a number of accompaniments that worked very well to off-set the richness; kale, pickled turnips and a vanilla puree. Rustic food with some serious polish. An obvious match was from the lighter spectrum of reds in the form of a Tuscan Sangiovese (Casabianca Chianti Colli Senesi DOCG).

The second meat course was liquorice-braised beef brisket, an ever so tender slice of veal (tenderloin?) on top of a smoked puree, a small stack of some very precise onion rings and a carrot and Manzanilla sherry puree to accompany a generous length of roasted bone marrow. The sherry in the carrot puree was a masterstroke, another addition incorporated to off-set the richness, in this case the marrow. The liquorice sauce was subtle, sticky, rich and oh so warming, as was the familiar McLaren Vale Penny’s Hill Shiraz to compliment the dish.

I could have happily rolled out out of the front door at this point, but there was still a way to go. You observe a lot more  when you’re dining by yourself and earlier in the evening, sitting on top of a cabinet just below the stair case, I spied what was the largest cheese board in the world. An array of eight or nine, maybe ten, seriously good imported cheeses; three types of goat’s cheese, a very ripe d’Affinois, comté, cheddar, a couple of washed rind cheeses and a couple of blue cheeses. Had I not been five dishes into an eight-course meal, I would have loved to try them all, but I duly settled on the d’Affinois, comté, one of the blue cheeses and one of the washed rind cheeses.

As the cheeses were being taken into the kitchen to be sliced and served, three wine glasses were placed on the table, each filled with a different dessert wine to compliment the final courses. If my memory serves me correctly (as my notes surely don’t) there was a Botrytis Semillon, a Rutherglen Muscadelle (the ‘new’ name for a tokay) and a Pedro Ximenez – or something similar. Clearly, things were getting a little hazy at this point.

The cheeses were, as expected, exemplary and served with the lightest and bestest ever house-made lavosh I have ever come across. If Colin ever takes the Luke Mangan route and touts a whole bunch of stuff for people to take home, this is one thing he should consider selling… in addition to jars of pickled pig snouts.

The penultimate course was a prune puree, Armagnac cream, and hot ginger crumble. It’s a damn shame the cold months are over as I’ll be madly trying to replicate this crunchiest crumble ever recipe next winter, although the waiter hinted that Demerara sugar was used. Brilliant!

I barely had the room to manage the last course. Alas, it wasn’t the ‘4’s’ Chocolate Snickers, but chocolate and beetroot; a chocolate delice on a beetroot sauce, beetroot cubes, beetroot and ginger sorbet, chocolate tuile and a fine dusting of cocoa… I think I managed to remember everything. Sometimes you can come across some pretty naff pairings of beetroot and chocolate, but this hit the mark. The best example I have tasted of how and why these two ingredients can work so well together, in addition to the other things like the contrasting textures – crunchy tuile versus soft delice and the heat from the ginger against a cold sorbet.

Some Cointreau and chocolate truffles with a well made short black managed to find the last of the vacant room in my tummy, to round out what was a most exceptional and memorable experience.

As much as I don’t like eating alone and some will argue that you do not need good friends to enjoy good food, I am yet to agree. Sharing in conversation and sharing the experience are just as much, especially when it’s this good. Let’s hope I can rid myself of this self-effacing, oh-woe-is-me attitude so I can continue to discover Sydney’s other delights when I am again on my lonesome. I also hope Four in Hand hasn’t set the bar too high.

Four in Hand
105 Sutherland St, Paddington 2021
(03) 9362 1999
http://www.fourinhand.com.au/

Good For: Convincing staunch Melburnians that the Sydney food scene is smoking
Not Good For: Nothing, really. It was all too good.

Four in Hand on Urbanspoon

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Where’s the Beef?

Which is better? Grain-fed or grass-fed beef?

Initially, I guess I didn’t really care; as long as it was a quality piece of beef, cooked in accordance to the cut and to my liking. I could easily give an opinion (informed or otherwise) on what I believe to be the best cut for a steak, whether dry aged is better than wet aged, marbling and how much, when to season your meat, pan or BBQ, etc, etc.

But as for grain versus grass, I have had no opinion; nor frankly do did I care.

Google will, as always, bring up a number of opinions (informed or otherwise) and generally there are three main points of contention. First off, there’s the topic of ethics. In terms of benevolence, when people think about grass-fed moo cows, they think of happy bovines that roam majestically across rich, green pastures without a care in the world. This is opposed to grain-fed cattle, which are fattened on grains and often in feedlots, resulting in a higher than normal growth rate where yield tends to compromise flavour.

But this is not always the case with grain-fed beef. There are ethical, grain fed productions, who focus on a slower growth rate over a longer period of time, resulting in a flavoursome and tender, high quality product.

Verdict: Grass. The greater perception that grass-fed beef is more humane is hard to argue against, regardless of ethically minded grain fed beef. Better still, you should take some time to source your beef from a reputable supplier and understand its origin, feed, rearing, etc and you won’t go wrong.

Secondly, there’s the health debate. Most research is skewed towards grass-fed beef being a much healthier option. Our ideal diet requires a 4:1 balance of Omega-6 to Omega-3 fatty acids and these good fats are meant to reduce the risk at heart disease, reduce inflammation and it makes us smarter by promoting a better balance of fatty acid concentration in the brain, which is believed to be particularly supportive in cognitive and behavioural function.

A US study found that beef from grass-fed cattle contained sixty percent more Omega 3 fatty acids and a more favourable Omega-6 to Omega-3 ratio, as well as almost double the quantities of beta-carotene and almost three times the amount of Vitamin E. Are sixty percent more Omega 3 fatty acids and a more favourable Omega-6 to Omega-3 ratio going to prolong my life beyond 75? Probably not. My liver’s bound to fail me first.

Verdict: Grass. But we’re all going to die anyway.

If none of the above matters, then thirdly, the most important (and interesting) points are flavour and texture. Tender beef is nice, but most people are so concerned about a sourcing a steak with the ultimate tenderness that they simply forget that good beef should actually taste beefy.

God it’s hard… Do I trade flavour for tenderness? Am I satisfied with a marbling score of 6? Did the cow on my plate live a happy life?  WHY IS EVERYTHING SO DAMNED DIFFICULT?

I just want a nice piece of steak [sob].

Fortunately for me, last night the bulk of my pent-up beef frustration dissipated, as I attended one of two experiences that should be compulsory for all Australians (the first is Defensive Driving). As one of a number of excellent events organised through the Fringe Food Festival, last night saw a beef tasting and education night, led by chef Ron O’Bryan at The Vine Hotel in Collingwood.

Ron’s recently taken over The Vine and in keeping with the feel of “a pub that your dad would have gone to”, aesthetically he hasn’t done too much to the place, which is fine by me as it suits the back streets of Collingwood like… well, a good fitting tracksuit. More importantly, the kitchen is the heart and soul of this place and in my opinion there should be more chefs owning pubs – how many times have you been let down by a saggy parma, bad chips or a steak that resembles a pair of Havaianas? You’re not going to get that here. These are pub staples (including a few old school favourites, like crumbed brains and bacon) that are done well.

Anyway, back to the meat. We kicked off proceedings with some mingling over a variety of oysters from Tasmania & South Australia, Red Hill Brewery’s Imperial Stout and an interesting, textural, cloudy white made by Neil Prentice. Neil calls it Reverse Cowgirl, in that it’s crafted using a different technique to your standard (missionary) wine making.

After we were seated, we were presented with a taste of Neil’s other passion: Moondarra Grass-Fed Wagyu, in the form of tartare. A shared charcuterie platter was also placed in the middle of the table, which featured even more of Neil’s passionate handiwork (I was beginning to love this man): wagyu bresola and salami.

Artisan Charcuterie Plate

Several other meats from other producers also featured on the charcuterie board, including a pastrami, chorizo, a pork-based salami and some lovely hand-made pickles. Meat heaven. 

The Wagyu tartare was a pared back version, served only with a cured egg yolk to compliment the richness of the Wagyu, and Pont Neuf (which is a fancy term for a big, fat chip). The usual suspects of shallot, cornichons and so on were not missed, letting the real flavour of the meat speak for itself.

Adam Foster was also on board again, matching his Foster e Rocco Nuovo Sangiovese with the first course. This young red is a versatile drop; its lightness and smooth tannins complimented the meats, with neither dominating the palate.

Next up was our first lesson in attempting to find a difference between grain versus grass. We were each served a generous slice of rump cap from a grain fed bovine and a grass-fed moo cow. Both were prepared and cooked (rare) and rested in the same manner. The grass-fed rump was a far superior, in both taste and texture, whereas the grain fed rump was very tough. Many people around the table left the grain fed rump unfinished, declaring a resounding thumbs up for grass-fed.

Then came the coup de grâce. A selection of grain and grass-fed beef – four different cuts; porterhouse, rump, scotch and another one which escapes me. Our challenge: to enjoy and accurately identify which was which.

The Test

Personally, I struggled to remember which was which, making it very hard when it came to the judging. What made it even more difficult were the ‘pub-appropriate’ sides of battered onion rings, chips, green beans and red wine jus. Deliciously distracting.

For what I thought were the grain fed cuts (porterhouse – bottom of the place, rump – on the left), they were far more tender than the initial grain fed offerings. A little more buttery in flavour too.

However, the grass-fed morsels were again more superior in flavour and texture.

The accompanying Foster e Rocco 2009 Syrahmi (rhymes with salami) Shiraz held its own in an expected steak / red pairing.

We rounded out the night with some locally made Artisan cheeses; a thimble-sized fresh goat’s curd, a washed rind cow’s cheese and a cheddar – all exemplary and washed down with a Foster e Rocco 2010 Syrahmi Mouvedre.

So what did I learn?  I learned that the consensus on the night also leaned towards grass-fed, which although unsurprising, poses an even greater dilemma. The bad news is that the bulk of domestic retail beef sold in Australia is grain fed and unfortunately profit dictates over flavour and quality in a number of ways. 

 To keep up with demand, most beef sold is processed (killed) as yearling beef, which is up to 18 months old. Veal is generally processed at around 10 months. Yearling beef hasn’t lived long enough to develop any flavour. Young Prime Beef is processed at around 36 months. Far superior in flavour, but the math is obvious.

Once your beef has been processed, the next step to give you more flavour on your plate. But there’s wet ageing your meat and then there’s dry aging or hanging your meat, which is vastly different. Your typical supermarket ages its meat for around 14 days via a wet ageing process. Simply, the meat is vacuum packed and refrigerated. Although this process allows for the cells and muscle tissue of the meat to break down, thus naturally tenderising the meat, the ageing process rate of vacuum-packed meat decreases with time, with about 70% of the improvement in tenderness occurring in the first 10 days. It only does so much.

Dry ageing is a process where the entire carcass is hung in an environment with a controlled temperature (2-3 degrees celsius) and humidity (up to 90%) for up to 2 -4 weeks. This process intensifies flavour, however this is also as a result of losing up to 30% of the initial carcass weight due to the loss of moisture. This of course greatly reduces the profits of your average meat seller, who still want to pass on an inferior product at $9.99 / kg.

Basically, we’re stuck with the stuff we get at the local supermarket. They won’t change, but you can. Which is why you need to find a good butcher that knows where his or her meat has come from, how old it was, what it was fed, how long it was aged, how it was aged and so on. Better yet, get along to your local farmers market and buy it (and other goods) straight from the loving source (thanks Alli).

I’m never going to source a 36-month old, grass fed, dry-aged for 30 days piece of beef from Coles. Although such a cut could command a price upward of $50 / kg, quality doesn’t come cheap. And you know what? We’re only meant to eat a moderate amount of red meat, so if you’re willing to buy a little less, spend more on quality and really enjoy your beef, then you won’t need that whopping 450g beast that hangs off your plate. But if you do, then I suggest a colonoscopy every now and again.

Verdict: Buy the best you can afford and enjoy it.

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The Burgers are Better…

I love a good burger. Actually, that’s not entirely true. I really also love a bad burger in the wee hours when I’ve drunk far too much. Who doesn’t?

For around 40 years, Australians accepted the mediocrity of the Hungry Jacks and McDonald’s duopoly until a bunch of various entrepreneurs decided to challenge the status quo. The mid-2000’s brought us the likes of Grill’d, Urban Burger, Burger Edge, BBNT; all of which seemed to practically pop up over night to rival the competition; each claiming to offer an alternative burger that’s well made (in that it vaguely looks like the picture above the counter) with quality ingredients (that don’t taste like cardboard) and in some instances deliver nourishment that isn’t two times your daily intake of calories in one sitting.

Some tried, some failed. Most though, are still around. Even before the great burger revolution of circa 2005, there are long-standing Melbourne icons like Andrew’s Hamburgers in Port Melbourne, Danny’s Burgers in Fitzroy North and even the Embassy Café in West Melbourne, where all the taxi drivers hang out.

They’ve been a staple on most pub menus, amongst the chicken parmas and beer-battered fish & chips, but some places are kicking it up a notch. And it makes sense, because they’re popular, can cater to most tastes and in most instances, a relatively inexpensive feed.

The Tramway Hotel, an iconic local pub in Fitzroy North recently changed hands. With the change of owners came a much-needed refurbishment and another attempt at opening the kitchen, which in years gone by has failed repeatedly. Although this time around, the canny owners went on the premise to focus on something particular and do it well. With 8 or 9 burgers on offer, some are constants that remain on the menu and others are seasonal. Your omnipresent Fitzroyalty vegans and vegetarians are covered, as are your hungry carnivores, coeliacs, pescetarians, etc. All washed down with a few beers, is there anything better?

But how much is too much for a burger? Many coveted two-hatted establishments also jumped on the burger bandwagon because it was cool, like, if you didn’t know. Rockpool Bar & Grill’s Wagyu Burger is probably the most renowned with its brioche bun, gruyere cheese, bacon, zucchini pickle from the Zuni Café in San Francisco and of course, its namesake, a David Blackmore Full Blood Wagyu burger patty. Some may scoff at paying $24 for a burger, but it’s probably a reasonable price point in the context of the venue and although it’s around four times the cost of a Whopper, it’s only twice the cost of a burger at Grill’d.

Of course, the more you pay for your burger hopefully indicates that you are getting better quality ingredients. Although the ongoing publicity surrounding high fat, high sodium take-away food has meant that the ‘alternative’ burger franchises attempt to win over customers by offering stuff like “97% fat-free beef”, which as far as burgers go, defeats the purpose of what actually makes a good burger. Fat equals flavour and provides the much needed moisture to make your hamburger juicy. As I continually need to explain to my four-year old daughter, a burger (amongst all of the other junk food she likes) is a ‘sometimes’ food and I’d sooner have a juicy, tasty burger occasionally than a ‘guilt-free’ 97% fat-free burger patty, which will give you nothing more than a dry, tough and tasteless puck of meat.

Making a burger at home is a very satisfying undertaking, especially with some care and forethought. Although my home version is naturally better and far more satisfying than that famous  twoallbeefpattiesspecialsaucelettucecheesepicklesonionsonasesameseedbun, there are a couple of elements in my burger that pay homage to the evil duopoly, because at the end of the day this is what I grew up knowing a burger to be and let’s be frank, some things just work so there’s no point in trying to reinvent them.

As I’ve also mentioned previously, you can go as far as Heston Blumenthal and make your own ‘processed’ cheese like he did in his In Search of Perfection series. Perhaps even go the whole hog and attempt to make every single element of the burger from scratch, like this guy did.

Personally, I don’t have 30 hours to kill. However there is one non-negotiable that must be obeyed and that is the meat patty. Like I said before, there needs to be a reasonable fat content. There are many lean to fat ratios thrown around as to what is the ultimate and everyone’s get a theory on the best cuts to use. As for fat, the general consensus is around 80:20 (80% lean to 20% fat). Chuck steak seems to be the preferred sub-primal cut, although if you’ve got lots of time on your hands, you can mix it up with ratios of chuck with some brisket, sirloin and even beef short ribs (boned, of course), each cut adds a different dimension in terms of meatier flavour, texture and mouthfeel.

You can buy the meat and grind it yourself, if you have the equipment and enthusiasm or your butcher can grind it for you. If you’re really pressed for time (here’s my first tip that might cause a little unease as to my pedigree as a ‘foodie’, but hey this is my recipe and my thoughts on my favourite burger to make at home. If you disagree or have other thoughts, I would love to hear them), buy regular standard minced beef from any of your garden variety supermarkets. Don’t buy the premium quality 5-star lean, or 4-star for that matter, as both are too lean. The regular 3-star mince has the appropriate lean to fat ratio for this purpose.

The next step is to flavour your meat. Of course, there are lots of options here: garlic, onion (raw or sweated off first), breadcrumbs, herbs, spices, worcestershire, mustard and so on. Personally, I don’t want to add anything to the meat other than some salt and a little white pepper before it hits the grill. Both enhance the flavour of the meat and I do not like to detract from this at all. There’s enough going on in a burger with the other ingredients and condiments, than to have to add more flavour to the meat.

You do not need egg to bind your minced beef, nor do you need to slap or overwork the meat – it just makes it tough. Simply make sure your meat is well chilled and formed into uniform patties. There’s no need to handle the meat more than you have to… unless you’re into that kind of thing. Also, a tip I’ve stuck with is to place your burgers in the freezer until they’re very chilled, but not snap-frozen. An hour or so before cooking on the grill is just about right.

Size is everything. Too big and you’ll end up with most of the burger in your lap as you struggle to get your mouth around it. Too little and you’ll lose the meat flavour amongst the other wonderful things you add to your burger. I’ve already briefly mentioned uniformity. Call me anal, but when I’m making burgers, I’ll grab the scales and weigh out the meat. Not to stop the fights because “her burger’s bigger than mine”, but so I can get the burger size right in respect of the bun I am using, the accompanying ingredients and whom I am cooking for.

According to my maths, McDonalds’ Quarter Pounder is 112.5 grams in the metric system. I find the substance of one patty at that weight just a little underwhelming and two a little too much meat. I’ve found making a burger with a weight of 150g – 170g is a good sized patty for an adult. For kids, no more than 100g will suffice. Just remember, varying sizes will require different cooking times.

Next is the bun. Controversial tip number two is that I don’t mind using your run-of-the-mill, store-bought hamburger buns. As long as they are fresh… and they don’t tend to stay too fresh for long either. Those flat, squished looking buns that supermarkets and bakery chains sell also do a reasonable job. The bun needs to be able to withstand the juicy ingredients, without falling apart and making you angry. You also don’t want a bun that’s too tough, bready or doughy.

I’ve made my own buns on a number of occasions and if I’m making burgers on a weekend and therefore have the time, I would probably do just that. There’s a really good brioche-style bun recipe I’ve used a number of times. They’re light enough to not dominate the other ingredients and sturdy enough to hold up.

Cooking your burger is the same as cooking any piece of meat; it has to be done right. Season your meat just before you cook, that way the salt doesn’t start to leach out all of that much loved moisture and get your BBQ or grill as hot as you can to sear the meat well. You only need to flip the burger once and please try to refrain from squishing your burger when it’s on the grill, as fun as it is. As for cooking your burger on a hotplate or directly over grill, the choice is yours. I am a big fan of the smoky flavour imparted by cooking directly over the grill, however once I’ve flipped the burger and there’s only a minute or so of cooking time to go, I’ll add the cheese so it begins to melt and transfer the burger to the hotplate, so the cheese doesn’t melt through the grill and onto the hot coals. Remember to rest your meat.

As for the remaining ingredients or condiments, it’s all about personal taste. Sometimes, if there’s an excess of onions in the pantry, I might get all fancy and make up some onion jam. However, mainly at our place it’s the usual suspects: lettuce, tomato (for me only), beetroot, egg (again, for me only), bacon, cheese, pickles, mayonnaise and ketchup.

Remember, these ingredients are just as integral to compliment the whole burger, so use them judiciously. I’ve searched far and wide for my favourite types of condiments and I’m happy to say that I’ve found my preference for each ingredient, which I’ve listed below in terms of importance:

Pickles. Ah, the polarising little things. My sister hates them. When ever she had a burger, I was the fortunate recipient. Unfortunately I now live in a house with pickle-lovers, so as judicious as they may be served in the burger (three slices only), there are usually a few extra slices served on the side or eaten whilst preparing the other ingredients. The best pickles I’ve found are of course, American. I discovered Vlasic Sea Salt Kosher Dill Pickles at Costco, but they are also available through a number of online American food stores in Australia.

Mayonnaise. Although K loves the Thomy Deli brand, I find that Best Foods or Hellman’s (same thing, just different branding) is better in a burger.

Ketchup. Since I lived in the UK, I’ve been a fan of Heinz Original Ketchup. Not sauce, whether it be Big Red, Rosella or Fountain. The only acceptable sauce I’ve found is made by Three 3’s and it’s packed with flavour through the addition of some extra spices and some horseradish.

Lettuce. Iceberg, sliced into 0.7mm shreds. Don’t ask me why, but it can’t be too thick or too thin. God invented iceberg lettuce for two reasons; Sang Choi Bao and hamburgers. Save your fancy lettuce for another day.

Cheese. If you must, you can go all fancy and buy some mature or tasty cheddar slices. Most people are accustomed to your bog-standard Kraft cheese slices and that’s OK with me.

Mustard. I’ve stopped putting mustard on my burgers as I found it was one condiment too many, but if you’re that way inclined I recommend French’s Classic Yellow Mustard. Yet again, it’s American and it’s as close as you’ll get to the mustard used in McDonald’s.

Order of stacking is also important. Do the salad ingredients appear above or below the meat? Is this important? I don’t know, but everyone seems to have a theory. There’s a school of thought that the lettuce should go on the bottom of the burger to protect the bottom part of the bun from moisture and imminent collapsing. However, if you’re using shredded lettuce, it might not make too much difference. Maybe a slice of cheese is better? My preferred order (bottom to top) is: Bottom bun, meat, cheese (melted onto burger whilst cooking), egg, bacon, ketchup, pickle, beetroot, tomato, lettuce, mayo, top bun.

Finally, if you wish to replicate the experience of a burger that’s been sitting under a heat lamp and / or in that brown paper bag until you get home, I suggest wrapping your burger in baking paper and bunging it in the microwave for 25 seconds before eating. It just adds a little more authenticity to your homemade masterpiece.

So this week, I suggest you dedicate some time to think about burgers and without getting too hungry and heading for your closest drive-thru, wait until the weekend where you can have a go at mastering your own burger.

You won’t be disappointed.