14 DECEMBER 1991, Page 59

d's E asy Diner, Smollensky's Balloon and On the Strand

I GET NERVOUS at this time of year. My conscience begins to gnaw. Let me explain: at exactly this time, six years ago now, I Made something between a suggestion and a promise to the then editor, Charles Moore, that, to mark the impending break- up of school for the Christmas holidays, I Ait Would prepare a round-up of hamburger

Joints. I wrote a list in my diary: McDon- ald's, Wimpy, Wendy's, it went; Burger King, Burgerland, my very favourite, Star- burger. And as the list grew, so did my despair. I floundered, and then, straight- forwardly, flunked it. The column never Materialised, not exactly cancelled but Wordlessly postponed, to be resuscitated the following year and the one after that. Of course, my dereliction of duty was never mentioned. But the fact that Mr Moore didn't irately ring me up to bark 'Where's the beef?' didn't make me feel better. I still feel bad, but not bad enough to carry out the act of traipsing through Leicester Square amassing those pallid yellow Polystyrene boxes filled with limp, car- bonised discs wrapped in relish-sodden napkins and then ... But enough. And any- way, I have at last done something to make amends. I do not bring you a comprehen- sive compare and contrast job on the full Panoply of hamburger bars, but I offer a review of the best one.

I am not an enthusiastic hamburger- eater. That much is evident. I can be con- vinced, but a great deal of the trouble is that no meat should ever be chopped or minced except at the moment it is to be Cooked. The only time I have felt that I may be eating a hamburger that, until it Was given form on my plate, was half a Pound of whole, glistening, ruby-hued steak, was at the Royalton in New York, and I presume New York is too far to go even for aficionados of the genre. For them, over here, hamboigers become chopped steak at Le Caprice and Joe Allen's and, I'm told (I've always found better things to order), elegantly satisfy requirements. I am happy with Ed's Easy Diner: for my money, the best upmarket hamburger chain in London. Why I go to it, however, is not for the hamburgers but for the hot dogs. It is ,LMost impossible to get a good hot dog in country: the bubblegum-pink tubes of saline, aerated, ersatz flesh that masquer- ade as the real thing will not do. We've had

so many of the McDonald clones over from America, so why can't we have one of my favourite New York fast-food chains? This is Papaya King, which consists of a few messy, unprepossessing, small shops serv- ing, incredibly cheaply, fab franks and ridiculously large tubs of exotic fruit juices. Anyway, until that day, there is Ed's, where you can have, for around £3, hot dogs with sauerkraut, hotdogs with grilled onion, with chilli, with cheese (and cheese here means heavenly Velveeta, that plastic goo, flown in especially) or with both. And actually, Ed's is rather better than Papaya King in the first place.

It sounds American, pretends to be American, buzzes with a rambunctious American Graffiti-style Fifties street-cred chic, but it's all fake. This may bother you. It doesn't bother me. Music is juke-box jive along the Sam Cooke-Chubby Checker- Connie Francis axis (with more Bobby Darin than is absolutely necessary) and for 5p a play (clever move, that) you can choose toons yourself from their Seeburg 100 Wallamatics. Decor is strenuously retro: chrome, black-and-white flag check and red-and-turquoise leatherette. Walls are adorned with chirpy daubs — 'If you pay your check you're a great customer', `We don't make loans and the bank doesn't make hamburgers', `No dancin' in the aisles', 'If you can find a better diner, eat there' — which should irritate more than they do. The good-humoured efficiency more than makes up for facetiousness. Hamburgers (just under £4) come as 'original', which means with lettuce, toma- to, onion, dill pickle, mayonnaise and American mustard, 'cheese or cheese' One whole shmcer as the original, plus regular [this generally means cheddar] American or Swiss cheese') or a double version of either. Add to these grilled onions, more melted cheese, chilli, bacon, egg or gua- camole. The chips, or rather fries, are not frozen, and again come plain, draped with Velveeta or chilli. Or there's my favourite, the rather disgustingly named wet fries, a bowl of thick, hot chips, doused in gravy. The menu also includes a tuna melt, BLT, club sandwich, salad and a vegiburger. Milkshakes cost around £2, but they do come in large enough portions to fill two glasses; the chocolate malt is my particular weakness. I have never been tempted to go on to the sweet things, but I am a witness to the appeal of the ChocO Lat, a vast confec- tion of ice-cream, chocolate sauce, broken- up Kit-Kat and whipped cream. Drink milk, coffee, beer or even champagne. That's style for you.

As far as children go, Ed's is most suit- able for those who are too old to need accompanying. If you have younger ones to deal with, go, on a Saturday or Sunday lunch (but you must book) to Smollensky's Balloon or Smollensky's On the Strand where, for under £10 a head, you can ply them with turtle slime, bangers, beans and mash, fish fingers and knickerbocker glo- ries while they watch a magician or a Punch and Judy show.

Ed's Easy Diner, 12 Moor Street, London W1; 362 Kings Road, London SW3; 16 Hampstead High Street, London NW3; and 16 Prince Albert Street, Brighton.

Smollensky's Balloon, 1 Dover St Wl; tel 071 491 1199 Smollensky's On the Strand, 105 The Strand, London WC2; tel 071 497 2101

Nigella Lawson

'011 no! Joy-to-the-world riders!'