MEATliquor – not MEAT-licker it turns out

“When people pile seven things onto one burger, it drives me nuts!”
– Bobby Flay

Jeff is extraordinarily good at managing our culinary escapades here in London. A fair amount of the restaurants, markets, or goodies featured here at SDS are due to his fairly consistent research into the city’s food scene. I mean, I enjoy a good nosh and do my best to stay abreast of the food news, but for him, it’s more of a calling. So when he read about MEATliquor, conveniently nestled just behind Debenham’s on Bond Street, he immediately put it at the top of our To Try list. Our quest for London’s best burgers is never ending, after all, and it would be a shameful shirking of our duty to let a place as favourably talked about as this go untried.

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True to its name, the menu is divided pretty squarely into burgers and booze. Although, having been raised teetotal, its nomenclature caused a moment of hilarity. Until we set foot in the joint, every time I heard the name, what I heard and saw in my head was “Meat-licker.” When the menu was set down in front of me I had a good laugh at myself. Naivete notwithstanding, there are plenty of nice things to drink for the virtuous and I can particularly recommend the Brown Cow, a root beer float. And let the record show that is high praise coming from me as I traditionally have not been root beer floats’ biggest fan.

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The artwork is decidedly punk and not particularly child friendly, so I’d recommend keeping this a grownups only meet up place. However I can squarely assert that the soundtrack is fantastic, rock and blues without stop. We prefer not to deal with crowds when we don’t have to so we went during the lunch hour, but apparently at dinner the line can stretch down the street. There is a sign of hilarious “waiting line rules” that I failed utterly to snap a photo of but must try to nab on a future look in.

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This was our first visit to MEATliquor but not our last because the burgers really are very nice. And for my money, this place makes the best onion rings I have had in London to date, bar none. Jeff is a fan of the chili cheese fries but always manages to eat a suspicious amount of my rings anyway, the sneak. There are no napkins, just paper towels, the only mustard is French’s, and everything is served on a single tray when it comes to the table. It’s the precisely correct amount of gritty fun you need when you’re looking for a juicy burger on a weekend ramble.

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