A guest post for you today, from Donald E. He suffered so you don’t have to.
LOCATION: Garfunkel’s, North Terminal, Gatwick Airport, RH6 0PJ [map].
BREAD: Sesame seeded white burger bun.
FILLING: Grilled beef burger, mayonnaise, dill pickle, lettuce, tomato, red onion.
PROS: I really wanted a burger, actually I take that back, I really wanted a McDonald’s cheese burger, something quick and cheap to tide me over while I waited for my flight. I was, unfortunately on the wrong side of security at Gatwick airport and as such my options were limited. I’m still having flashbacks to the terrible mint yoghurt addition that I was once served in a Jamie’s Italian burger, so the Jamie’s whatever that I walked past was firmly off the cards.
I don’t know if I’ve ever eaten at Garfunkel’s, I imagine that I must have done, so prevalent are they in the departure terminals across the land, I must surely have darkened their doors early one morning in a sleep deprived hungover fug and demanded scrambled eggs, beer and coffee. I’m sure you can imagine why I might not remember.
But anyway, Garfunkel’s was there, I could see a picture of a burger, what could possibly go wrong?
Fuck, sorry I’ve got slightly ahead of myself and completely forgotten to list the pros:
1) They had chairs.
2) They had tables.
3) There were windows through which I could see out of the restaurant.
CONS: Firstly, to drink I had a very expensive 250 cl plastic bottle of Magner’s cider, which once I’d finished was followed by the ignominy of my desperately gesticulating for someone, anyone to furnish me with another, the service staff having evidently decided to add insult to the injuriously minute serving measure by ignoring my pleading for a second.
Secondly, the burger, which, I ought add came with some chunky chips of the kind that make you long for some kind of proficiency exam for chip frying, and the usual coterie of sauces (red, off white, and yellowish). The burger itself came in a somewhat oversized bap, which had been finely aged to a state of stale friability. A triumvirate of little gem lettuce leaf, red onion and tomato slice sat atop the over cooked, cheese bedecked patty. To their credit they had melted the cheese rather well, though I suspect that was merely on account of the length of time the patty had been heated. Of the patty, what is to be said? It brought forth a torrent of memories, mostly unpleasant, of school dinner burgers, the frozen, then oven cooked, sorry brown hockey pucks of protein that were dished up as treats post sporting endeavour. The dining hall nod to cool Americana cuisine that, like your headmaster playing rock guitar in assembly, ended up being worse than cringe worthy. Yes it tasted exactly like that, I’m sure all those whose education was in the UK can relate.
Sorry to ramble, but the whole experience was terribly disheartening, I could almost feel the corporate cost cutting chipping mercilessly away at my enjoyment, each snip and tuck taking one more bite of tastiness from the dish, until all that remained was a simulacrum of a burger, something that from a distance might have resembled that which I understood as a burger, but upon closer inspection proved itself mere fraud.
I ate less than half.
SCORE: 1.5/10 (There was at least booze)