Danny's Burgers, St Werburghs: Smash or pass?
The patties he’s supplying – they’re electrifying
Yesterday was National Burger Day. I do hope that our recent burger bonanza gave you some inspiration in where to indulge on such a momentous occasion. When it comes to burgers, more often that not Danny’s is the one that I want. In fact, on these summer nights, there’s few things better than sitting al-fresco in the Fierce & Noble courtyard with a pint of the cold stuff and devouring a smash burger while dripping beefy grease through my fingers. You could say I’m hopelessly devoted. But rather than me continuing to wax lyrical about beef juices, I’ll hand you over to Caitlin for the real deal. And if you enjoy reviews like this landing in your inbox, don’t forget to hit subscribe — it helps us keep The Bristol Sauce sizzling.
The traditional image of a thickly stacked hamburger, complete with chunky quarter-pounder patties, perfectly square cheese, and springy lettuce all piled to jaw-stretching heights between fluffy brioche is beginning to look uncool. Uncool like boomerangs. Or jeggings.
Squashed-down smash burgers have been the It Burger for a while. It would be reasonable to think that these patties, flattened by smooshing onto a super-hot grill, are a modern phenomenon, given how ubiquitous they’ve become in the past half decade. But they’ve literally been around for a hundred years — one theory suggests they rose to fame in 1920s America, as a way of stretching resources further during the Great Depression; a phrase that can also refer to the feeling of ennui you get when you order a Big Tasty and realise it is neither of those things. I’ve done my fair share of hacking patties in half lengthways and squishing them with all the force a mangled spatula can provide to create two burgers for the price of one, probably with a side of reduced-section chicken nuggs from big Tesco. A romantic night in for two uni students if I ever saw one.
Back to the actual smash technique. High-quality mince must be combined with enough fat (at least 20 per cent) to get the meat exceedingly crispy at the edges without sacrificing optimum juiciness inside, which is a crucial aspect — for this is no crisp sandwich. The ‘smashing’ into the grill gets maximum meat and fat in contact with heat, exploiting the mysterious-sounding Maillard reaction — otherwise known as the science of the sizzle (Michael Mosley, 2017 — RIP). Much has been made of this phenomenon, but it’s just the browning effect of cooking that we all know and love. Amino acids and natural sugars react at high temperatures, creating those rich, toasty flavours, as well as melanoidins, which provide that darker colour. You’ll recognise this from baking biscuits, toasting marshmallows, and roasting coffee, as well as poaching an egg if you forget the water. Fun fact: the same chemical reaction is also found in bog bodies*, where it happens over thousands of years, instead of in a hot environment. Basically, if the cooking smells good, then it’s Maillarding. No comment on the bog bodies.
And what better place to encounter the non-enzymatic browning of beef than in the courtyard of Bristol brewery Fierce & Noble in St Werburghs: the home of Danny’s Burgers. Since Bristol-based Danny Hawke moved his passion for patties out of his kitchen and into the world, the National Burger Awards has named him Burger Chef of the Year 2021 and deemed his Beef Chucky 2.0 to be the Best Burger of 2022. Often present at the top of Bristol’s best burger lists (of varying veracity), the joint serves up a burgers-and-fries menu Wednesday-Sunday every week.
 | A guest post by
|