Joseph Hughes
Google
20th July 2025
£55 for two
The early months of Mich’s pregnancy have been beset by seemingly most of the possible negative side-effects - most prominently daily morning sickness well beyond the point where people helpfully keep reminding her it should have stopped by now - and, barring one urgent request for a strawberry Yazoo, very few of the fun cravings some women experience. So when one Sunday she woke with a happy lack of nausea and a desire for big fat burgers we decided to make the most of it and head into town.
This newfound feeling of normalcy basically extended to wanting to not be in the bathroom with her head down a toilet for as long as possible and also to eat as much as she could, so first we wandered along the seafront to peruse the crossword over a coffee and a ginormous slice of banana bread and possibly the jammiest doughnut (perhaps even too much jam?!) at Fika.
This is important context. As the decision to burger had been made early in the day, and as Mich was having such a nice time, and as that slice of banana bread was enough to satiate her for pretty much an entire afternoon, I had a lot of time to mentally conceive of - and build, and tweak over several dozen phases of interactive design: from raw red onion rings to cubed and caramelised white and back again - my perfect burger. After one too many “are you hungry yet?”s we agreed to independently research and then come back together to discuss potential venues.
Top of the list was a place called 7Bone, pretty much because the main picture on their website matched most closely my own design: two smashed patties, with melted cheese seeping into its gaps, in one of those milky-floury non-brioche buns. (Mich wanted a chicken burger, and they did those too). Also raising an eyebrow was the fact that “ooh, Red Dog are in the Mesmerist now”, so we stopped off for a look at their menu en route, and had reliable old Honest Burgers nearby as a Plan C too.
It wasn’t right at 7Bone at all and I think we knew it from the off. Not that that stopped us from asking for a table a few minutes after we’d dismissed the waiter once with a “we’re just having a look at the menu”, despite by that point in the day knowing it almost off by heart. But for some reason the in-jokey names felt more egregious in the flesh (“iaia(i)n with three eyes”, “peter green”, “all right all right all right”), and coupled with the option only to order via an app and the too-loud AI-sounding ‘music’ over the speakers, we decided to leave.
So to the Mesmerist. Turns out Red Dog can be just as creative with its burgers while managing to come up with names that don’t make you feel like a teenage girl at her first big-school sleepover with a bunch of friends who all knew each other from primary, but really I just wanted a really good cheeseburger, so I didn’t really pay them much attention. I asked for a double, and Mich got a messy spicy cheesy slawy juicy fried chicken thigh thing, with obligatory buffalo wings and chips to share on the side too.
Did they satisfy our cravings? Mich was just really happy to be able to eat something like that again for the first time in ages, and given she normally uses a knife and fork for her burgers like a weirdo anyway it didn’t really matter that her bun disintegrated under duress of all the liquid seeping into it. A little sickly by the end perhaps, but hit the spot. Mine did, but only just about. It’s really difficult, if burgers are your thing, to serve a terrible one, but this wasn’t exactly special: as you can see from the picture the buns were the cheap claggy type, which meant that them forgetting my second patty, throwing the ratios all off, had more of an impact than it might otherwise have done. The flavour on the wings was fine but they looked like they’d come from the chicks who got picked last in PE; the chips (and smoked chipotle mayo) were excellent. Overall fine, but nothing to write home about. Unless you’re me, and analysing average food in minute detail is for some reason your thing.