A Hamburger Today
In London, Cheeky Pete's Oversized Burger Falls Short of Expectations
Cheeky Pete's
1a Bell Lane, London, E1 7LA (map); 020 7377 0665; cheekypetes.com
Cooking Method: Griddled
Short Order: Skinny grass fed burger served in an enormous bun
Want Fries with That? Yes, crispy and golden
Price: Burger, £5.00; cheeseburger, £5.50; double burger, £8.00; fries, £1.95. Burgers include up to five toppings, extra toppings are £0.50 each
Notes: Open 5 days a week (closed on Saturdays and Sundays) 8:30 a.m. - 3 p.m. & 6 p.m. - late
Cheeky Pete's has received quite a bit of internet buzz since opening. While it failed to make the listing put out by Time Out London recently, the comments left by London's burger-loving punters indicate that this was a monumental oversight. Can Cheeky Pete's overcome the lack of critical praise and live up to the hype generated by its supporters? Is it indeed the best burger in London?
Cheeky Pete's is located in a basement that is accessible from two separate stairways, leading to either Bell Lane or Wentworth Street. Walking down the narrow staircase, past the smattering of Americana—pictures of New York City cabs, a guitar, some Elvis kitsch—one ends up in a room with exceedingly stingy head room. The low ceiling makes things more cramped than they actually are, but also adds a feeling of intimacy to the dining experience. With a full bar and seclusion from the street, Cheeky Pete's makes a good place for a sneaky drink.
The operation during the day seems geared more towards take-away service as the counter that dominates the space has only a few stools and appears to serve more as a staging area for orders than customer seating. Indeed, when I dined there on a Thursday lunch time almost all the orders were take-away—rows of gaping carry-out bags lined the counter, hungrily awaiting hamburgers. I imagine that at night the place turns in to more of a hang out. There is certainly a speak-easy feel to the room, what with its low ceiling and lack of windows.
Toppings seem to be an integral part of the burger at Pete's. The tag line on the restaurants awning is, "Build your own burger," which is technically not correct—you choose the toppings and they assemble the burger for you. This is accomplished by filling out a form that lists a plethora of topping options ranging from the expected—lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and bacon—to the bizarre—radish, corn, or anchovy. An equally diverse array of sauces—ketchup, mayo, and mustard—are offered alongside tahini and satay sauce.
Apparently most of the customers pile on the toppings because when I submitted my order——cheddar cheese, lettuce, and onion—the counterman was perplexed. "That's it?" he exclaimed. "How about bacon or avocado?" he suggested. I declined his kind offer; I wanted to find out what was really going on between the buns.
Five items are included in the basic £5 price of a burger with additional items costing 50p each. The patty is six ounces of grass fed, dry-aged, pure Welsh Black beef that has been reared in Pembrokeshire. Delivered fresh from the farm, the burgers are exceedingly skinny—no more than 3/8th of an inch thick—and consequently have a massive surface area to match the absolutely ginormous bun. In fact, the bread is so voluminous you should probably double up on the patty (12 ounces of beef!) to achieve a reasonable beef-to-bun ratio.
Once placed before me, I was not quite sure how to approach the monolithic sandwich. Despite a skinny patty the entire sandwich was almost as big as a baseball cap. Two hands and some serious bun compression was required just to be able to take a bite. The bread was flaky on the outside and most compliant, easily subduing the loose, coarsely chopped filling that wanted to spill out on to the counter. The black and white sesame seed-dotted crust of the bun was very crisp; it crumbled and flaked off easily, leaving gaping holes in the surface.
Biting in to the sandwich elicited a very different texture profile from your average burger. There was an awful lot of bread, even for a double, and I can see why one is encouraged to go heavy on the toppings. The beef had that unmistakable musky dry-aged flavor, which helps to balance the gamy, herbaceous nature of grass fed animals. The griddle-cooked patty did not exhibit a significant external char despite being cooked through, and it's so thin that cooking to order is impossible. Despite the patty's mealy texture—a characteristic I tend to find in grass fed beef—it had a pleasing flavor. The limited toppings I had seemed fresh enough, although the lettuce was rather crudely chopped; a finer dice or using whole leaf would have matched the svelte patty better. The cheddar was perhaps a bit too sharp; the Edam, which is also on offer, would have probably made for a better choice.
The burger at Cheeky Pete's appears to be the vision of an American hamburger created by someone who has never been to the States. It is a valiant effort but falls short of the mark. Infinite variety and oversized ingredients do not make the best burgers. This one strays so far from the generally accepted fundamentals of what a hamburger should be—in terms of flavor profiles and textural balance—that I am hard pressed to even consider it the running for best burger in London.