At the opposite end of the scale, away from the building sites and the neatly printed menus and expensive agency branding, you’ll find The Meatwagon. Behind a large van in a very typical Zone 2 industrial estate a few minutes walk from Peckham Rye station, sits an unbranded, unassuming little food van. This is the celebrated Meatwagon. I first came across the ‘wagon from a similarly burger-afflicted friend who pointed me in the direction of their Twitter account. It said they weren’t going to be around for a few weeks. Harrumph.

And then, on a Wednesday afternoon, an update. It’s back. Thursday and Friday. From 12pm ‘until we run out’. Ominous. Tempting. Only nine minutes on the train from London Bridge.

A flurry of instant messages between me and another burger critic, and we’re set for Friday.

After stumbling through some leafy Peckham side streets, getting a bit lost, and a quick ‘that can’t be it’ double-take, we’re standing before a beaming Yianni, who gleefully tells us he can do a cheeseburger, bacon cheeseburger or chilli burger. With chips. Triple-cooked. Obvs.

I think the pictures do these justice, but there’s a few points to make here. Yianni uses 100% chuck which he pulls out of a little fridge in big fistfuls and bashes them into patties in front of you. Salt and pepper. The bacon is interesting. He boils up a side of bacon, shreds some off and bashes that into a patty too. It’s thick and chewy, like American crispy bacon without the fat, chemicals and over-saltiness. As for the chilli, it’s half a green chilli fried in butter with a touch of stock. Genius. Both are thrown on top of the patty on the grilling plate before the piece de resistance goes on last. The cheese.

Two slices of it come out of the fridge. It looks like Kraft. We ask if it is Kraft, like a pair of over-excited children. Yianni smiles and says “No, it’s real cheese. It’s taken me ages to source this and it’s my secret. I’ll happily tell you about the rest of the process, but the cheese is my secret weapon”. We don’t push.

The buns are locally sourced white sourdough. Soft. Unseeded. Exceptional. Yianni carefully lattices mustard and ketchup on each side so they have a perfect covering.

And when we get to eating it, the fact we’re standing next to a bin in a glorified car park in Peckham just melts away. The meat is juicy, flawlessly pink and perfectly seasoned. The cheese which has since melted into the patty renders us speechless and  is as close as you’ll ever get to a west coast In’n'Out-alike. The meat-to-bun-to-condiment ratio is perfect. We are ecstatic.

If you’ve got anything more than a passing interest in quality burgers, then follow the Meatwagon. Yianni said he’ll be back in a few weeks time. The Meatwagon is his part-time dalliance when he’s not doing proper catering jobs. Get down there. It’s an adventure and it’s London’s best burger. It’s a damn sight better, and 100% more Guerilla, than that other place.

Follow the Meatwagon on Twitter and Facebook.

Oh dear. We’re not off to a good start.

Guerilla Burgers opened last week, and we popped in for an evening burger on their second night.
You can still smell the paint on the walls and it’s nestled on James St where Tootsie’s used to be: a culinary black hole of touristic medicocrity. So keeping its youth, inexperience and location in mind, let’s see how they did.

Despite a friend being able to order a medium/rare burger earlier in the day (and enjoying it too), I was denied the same patty treatment and proffered the ‘health and safety’ excuse. Irritating.

Of course when they did show up (roughly 25 minutes later), they were hideously, unforgivably overcooked. Literally crunchy on the outside of the patty. Arid in texture despite pouring over all the sauces we had to hand.

This is a heinous crime when your raison d’etre is making burgers, and a hefty proportion of your overlong menu is given over to a poorly written quasi-diatribe on what makes ‘the perfect burger’.

PS: it’s not burning it.

The burger itself is served in a stainless steel dish (the kind you would typically expect to contain a curry) with the condiments on the side. The buns were neatly toasted, but my companion simply stated through dried-out lips “I could have cleaned my bath with that burger”.

It doesn’t stop there, they serve up crinkle cut chips. Like the ones out of the freezer you used to get round your best mate’s house when you were nine years old. And they haven’t changed a bit from how you remember them: spongy, cold in the middle and not abundant enough to justify their £4 price tag. We also made the error of going for the ’smothered fries’. Smothering consists of three small morsels of cheddar and a large dollop of sickly veggie chilli. Avoid that upsell.

Something fishy…

The fish tacos are also a country mile away from what fish tacos should be. They’re marinaded salmon, with no breadcrumbs and shop-bought tzatziki slathered over the top. And are cold. So it seems Wahaca still remains the only purveyor of a fish taco resembling something similar to its delicious Califonian brethren.

There are some enormous menu issues going on here. It’s too long and unfocused.

Check out the PDF on their website and witness the layout issues and bizarre menu choices (the LA burger has cottage cheese in it, burger sauce is called ‘Russian Tarragon Dressing‘, sliders are called skaters for some incomprehensible reason, I could go on).

Saving graces?

Well the staff were very much full of first-week perk, which would have made us feel guilty about complaining about the food. They were trying really hard, and I can’t blame them for what came out of the kitchen, although arguably a quality control process should be implemented to stop overcooked meat going out.

If they sort out the menu and do some proper testing I might give it another go, but when you’ve got Byron within schlepping distance, then I can’t think of a good reason to go here.

The thing is, it won’t really matter if the food doesn’t get any better. James Street serves the post-Selfridges tourist crowd (we had to wade through big yellow bags on our way out), and it will make no difference to them if whingy blogger types like me continue to opine Byron’s simple genius over GB.

This review is a slightly more focused version of the one I originally posted on Qype

I’m no longer a fan of doing the de rigeur Bistro/Bourguignon combo when I do visit; I’ve long since had my fill, and in my opinion, Paris’ once untouchable standards seem to be slipping in the flawless dining department. Maybe it’s the Euro. I don’t know. But time, and mealtimes, is short on these fleeting visits, so mealtimes must not be wasted.

Kitchen Galerie Bis is a very new, very hip, very shiny offshoot of Ze Kitchen Galerie. ZKG is the home of William Ledeuil, who I now know to be the papa of new wave Parisian fusion cuisine. Asian mystique and umami combined that somehow manages to stay unmistakably French and avoids any unpleasant 80s-ness.

It was to a friend of a sibling, known only as ‘French David’ that our KGB visit can be accredited. It’s not been open long, and is the mini-er, slightly cheaper edition of Ledeuil’s Ze Kitchen Galerie.

The room is well-lit, airy and dotted with various horrendous works of vomity art. That’s the galerie part.

The menu is short and punchy, with two extra specials for the mains. We had six of the zors d’oeuvres, because we’d been told to. They’re the highlight, and the up-sell for the more expensive tasting menu located just down the road (which worked too, we’ll be booking a table there next time, budget be damned). Here’s what we got:

Having only managed to capture about 30% of the accompanying description from the staff, we dived in. Each of the six was a work of art itself. Very intense, well conceptualised and executed little dishes that were bursting with flavour, each obviously being a bit of a surprise. Lots of foam and lots of flavour.

Umami central

The mains are all served in bowls, and we had the barbu fish special and the suckling lamb. The former was meaty, delicate and incredibly complex at the same time – lemongrass and star anise were definitely in there as well as Japanese Mandarin, but there’s so much going on it’s almost too much for the palate.

Foamy subtlety that gets right into your head and stays there. Extraordinary and unexpected.

The lamb was beautifully soft and pink, but not in the same other-worldly league as the fish:

The apricot and curry spices worked marvellously, but it didn’t have that same wow factor that an amazing piece of fish can give you.

The winelist was flawless as expected (we had a 2008 Freesia that complimented the intensity of the food brilliantly), but what I must single out KGB for is their service. As briefly mentioned earlier, you just don’t get the same Parisian service that you did five to ten years ago, but they’ve really got it right here. The staff were genuinely friendly, courteous and always there when you needed them, an increasing rarity in this price range at both ends of the Eurostar line. They were all clearly fans of what the kitchen was churning out too, and how often does that happen?

If you’re after something a little bit different, and love fish and fusion, then KGB is definitely worth a visit. Really interesting concept, flawlessly executed on all fronts. Apart from the galerie itself.

Go and have a look at the rest of the pictures, including all the individual zors d’oeuvres, over on flickr

Tucked away on a secret Hackney side-street was their makeshift dining room. It was full of tables, plates, cutlery and character. We, being the first to arrive, scampered into the garden for some wine. As others turned up, exchanged knowing glances, we settled into a six hour gastronomic experience that was far superior to many of the more official eateries in recent memory. Since then we’ve attended F&L two more times and witnessed the founding of the excellent Trail of Our Bread (also in Hackney).

So after not really knowing what to expect, here’s a few tips if you’ve been thinking about signing up to the supper club experience:

1. It’s not a restaurant.

So don’t treat it like one. It’s someone’s house. Try not to break things, don’t expect fresh cutlery for each course, don’t expect each course to arrive with rapid fire precision. It’s highly unlikely anyone’s actually worked in a proper restaurant.

2. It’s really not a restaurant.

You’re not paying for a service from a business. You’re donating time and money to be part of a fun experiment. You’re the subject of someone’s passion. A supper club attendee has been chosen. Pre-selected. Almost vetted, really. So the social implications of just being there and meeting other diners creates a bonhomie that no typical restaurant experience can match.

3. Pay fair.

We’re British. Therefore we’re useless at dealing with, and asking for, money. On the off-chance you didn’t like the food, and even if you’re the sort of person who refuses to pay for things in restaurants, don’t dick the club out of its donation. Pay at least 10-20% over the suggested donation. Take plenty of cash with you, because if it’s really exceptional, then it’s still going to have cost you less than going to a restaurant.

4. Don’t be picky. Or flaky.

Well, to be more specific, if you’re the picky type, then supper clubs aren’t for you. We’ve had everything from frog’s legs to sashimi. Things that might make you go bleurgh. I’m one of those people that’ll try anything once, and my favourite menus are those that are just presented to me. I don’t know what’s best, I’ve not cooked it. If you can’t handle that as a concept, then you won’t enjoy yourself. But if you love the surprise of each dish arriving, you’ll have a brilliant time.

And for goodness sake, don’t cancel. Cancelling a reservation at a supper club is the baddest of bad form. Only cancel if you’ve lost a limb, or died. It hurts everyone else involved with the endeavour. Seating plans and portion sizes are the main victims, and they’re very carefully planned. If you’re taking a large group to a supper club then make sure none of your flaky mates are invited. It will reflect badly on you otherwise, and you’ll struggle to get another table.

5. Be nice.

Nicer than default restaurant mode. You can make friends at supper clubs. As previously mentioned, most of these folks haven’t had professional training. So compliment loudly and often. More than you’re used to doing. Ask for recipes, be specific about what you liked. Be honest about what could have been better.

But even more importantly than all that, remember that the geographic locations of these clubs is a secret. I’m no expert, but the legality of these clubs is dubious. So don’t add them to FourSquare.

6. Take plenty of booze.

It’s a long night. Don’t plan on having anywhere else to be. If you get out of there before midnight, you’re doing it wrong.

And pace yourself.

I know absolutely nothing about whiskey. Nothing at all. Zip.

So this past Wednesday’s Qype event at Whiskey specialists Salt was the perfect blend of intoxicating and informative.

Salt is at the south end of the Edgware Road (which to me is the border to the no-fly-zone of west London). So it’s a whiskey bar with a mind boggling array of every kind of whiskey, with and without the ‘e’, from all over the world.

We were there to sample three of Talisker’s range. Their 10 year aged, Distiller’s edition and 57 Degrees North. The latter being a clever play on Skye’s northerly-ness and the alcohol percentage.

All three were excellent, but my frame of reference is little more than Seagram’s 7, so it was satisfying to learn how to drink whiskey properly. And there’s no better time of year for warming booze than this.

For connoisseurs however, Salt Bar is an excellent venue. Their range is second-to-none and the location, although not ideal, is central enough to make it worth the trip.

They  have a pretty good line in smoked salmon and haggis too, so it’s well worth a Burn’s night blowout.

Back in March, whilst on a roadtrip through California with Rob, I squealed at the sight of the nearest In’n'Out Burger as it appeared on the horizon. Having already eaten merely hours, if not minutes, earlier (possibly at Denny’s), I just had to stop. The reason being, the 2×4 animal style is the best burger money can buy.

I didn’t manage to get a decent photo, because I was far too excited.

I then had to suffer the uncomfortable, over-stuffed and bumpy ride south. But it was all worth it.

Similar to feeling proud of yourself for ordering a Seven’n'Seven in a bar without being laughed at, sampling the ’secret’ menu at In’n'Out, when you’re thousands of miles from home, is indescribably exciting. Solid Americana. The perfect burger experience.

And we found ourselves having the inevitable ‘wouldn’t-it-be-brilliant-if-they-came-to-the-UK‘ discussion. Chris agrees so it only seems fair to lend support. The fact that no other country exists on the In’n'Out contact form shall not sway our devotion to the cause.

It’ll never happen, but we can dream.

Read Chris’ post about the campaign and how you can lend your voice!

It loses a bit of impact without the commentary, but you can get the main idea I think. I’d like to thank those that came along to listen and joined in with their own stories.
UXCampLondon was my first BarCamp experience, and it was brilliant. Thanks to everyone that put it together, there’s some absolutely fascinating work happening at the moment.

Chip’s the CEO of a boutique hotel chain in the US, which is the real world version of what we were fictionally designing for at UX Intensive a few weeks ago.

Some lovely insights into hospitality experience and empowering employees in a great talk from last year’s GEL conference in New York.

It was really rather special. Special enough to warrant a proper blog post, so off we go:

The Adaptive Path Experience

This is the first time I’ve been to an AP event. They’re renowned for being a tad expensive, and for us Brits, often exotically located (San Francisco! Copenhagen! Other places that aren’t London!). I now understand why.

The consistent theme throughout was quality. From the small touches (branded sharpies and Moleskine cahiers) to theming the week around hotel experience and its associated design challenges (pretty savvy when most delegates are all staying in the same place).

Not only do the Adaptive Path crew know their stuff, they’ve succeeded at putting their UX expertise into an actionable structure. This is the one thing I think most UX practitioners can struggle with, especially when joint-managing a development team and managing stakeholder expectations. Agencies, startups, established companies, we all have the same set of challenges.

Each day was broken into the four main tenets of UX – design strategy, design research, information architecture and interaction design. After being dismantled into their component parts, they were ultimately reassembled into the ultimate breakdown of the *what* and the *how* of each phase, and most importantly, the deliverables each phase should generate.

My personal favourites were the first and last days, strategy and IxD respectively. This is probably because they’re closest to my current work and what I find easiest to deliver. The IA day just proved how much I’ve got to learn. Interestingly they steered clear of the traditional wireframe discussions, which was wise. If you put 100 or so UX folks in a room, they’ll happily talk about wireframing and present them to each other for *weeks*. IA was much more focused on controlled vocabularies, content analysis & modelling, site structuring and good old-fashioned metadata.

What can you actually cover in a day?

Quite a bit, actually. One of the most impressive things the APers pulled off is cramming so much content into each day. Not only that but they covered the most important elements in an order that made sense. This kind of event only works with a series of well planned practical exercises, and AP used a fictional California boutique hotel chain as our ‘client’. It helped tie each day together with a nice real-world bow.

Of course, much was missed out. It had to be. I think some of us were a little disappointed with the lack of hands-on prototyping (certainly of a digital nature, everything was strictly post-it note and paper-based). Having reflected on it though, and from talking to others, I think we’re all at a good standard when it comes to digital prototyping. Focusing on it more might have reduced the educational impact considerably and turned us into an OmniGraffle appreciation group. There is still a deep desire to share design prototypes with others though, just to get that reassurance from your peers.

Bringing it home

As with any good event, you always leave bursting with ideas. Since getting back from Berlin and resuming normal service in the office, I’ve been thinking about how to integrate what I’ve learned with our current workflows. It’s still going to take a few more weeks to nail it down and try to get everyone as excited about consolidating our UX and design processes into a leaner, meaner beast.

I’ve already extracted the practical techniques we’ve either not been doing where we should, or those we played at and not followed through properly. That’s a given. The really great part is having a list of deliverables that you can customise to your internal audience. That’s the stuff that I find really exciting – turning your findings and creative into the right kind of deliverable that will inspire fellow stakeholders, and most importantly, users.

Team Europe

UX Intensive is the first web event I’ve been to that’s been on The Continent. There were only two or so Brits there. A whole new experience.

It was great to mix with people who don’t judge your work based on who your employer is. We’re not a big site in Europe really, due to a strategic UK/USA focus (and lots of other more boring reasons), so it was nice to be relatively care-free on that front.

I could show other designers some prototypes completely fresh, with no historical baggage that can accompany a well-known, highly trafficked and *old* website. It was really inspiring to see that newness of the P2P fundraising concept once again at a human level. It’s been a while, especially now that we’ve seen tons of sites spring up trying to replicate our success. It’s amazing to watch how a concept becomes commoditised and then carry on designing the secret sauce that keeps it successful.

I also made some great new friends from Sweden, Norway, Germany, Denmark and everywhere else inbetween. I think we all enjoyed mixing with like-minded individuals for what turned out to be nearly a week. UXers are often teams of one, maybe a couple more. Putting that many of us together from all over the world leads to some absolutely superb conversations, both in and out of the sessions.

Denmark’s Facebook penetration, for example, is something I knew nothing about and is scarily huge (it’s half the adult population or something). It’s also refreshing to see the same issues are prevalent across Europe; one particular example that fuelled lots of debate was the ongoing identity crisis UX designers tend to have: what to call ourselves.

Oh, and Twitter really isn’t a big deal outside of the UK. Not yet, anyway.

So what’s your job title, then?

Yep, we all struggle with it. Even the eminently practical Germans. Most of us are User Experience Designers, some are strategists, others were IAs or a mixture of all three. I’m sure there were a few evangelists scattered about too. The common issue is that when talking to people outside of the web industry, they have no idea what a UX designer is. We didn’t find a solution, but it’s something that bothers lots of us. The relative nascence of user experience as a subcategory of design leaves the door wide open for a little bit of controlled vocabulary of our own. Something that everyone can understand.

The way forward

So I’ve got a ton of content to distil and share with my team, I’ve got a physical workspace to help redesign and a brand new technology platform on which we can once again change things for the better, on a pretty grand scale. The timing of UX Intensive couldn’t have been better for me, and I’m really excited for June’s UX London event and the great stuff that will bring too.

I’ll share how we fare over the coming months as much as I can. Thanks to all those who attended too and made it such a memorable experience – you all know who you are and I hope you guys go on to do even greater things with what we all learned together in a questionably four star hotel in Berlin. Maybe we can all squeeze a bit more budget out from under the sofa for UX Week in September.

More stuff:

The group flickr photos and my specific set

A flurry of #uxintensive tweets

Traditionally, I’ve always preferred the vibe at FOWD a bit more than FOWA. It may not have the same globally recognised internet-rock-star line up, but the focus on creative brilliance is far more inspirational. There’s also less attention given to entrepreneurial fluff which personally I find can get a bit nauseating.

This is my first big web event in 2009, and I’ve been wondering if there would be a conference downturn to fit with the times. Sure enough, the perks have nearly all gone. Microsoft (the diamond sponsor) just brought a telly with some beanbags, no Guitar Hero. Embarrassed themselves with their Table tech by ruining Watchmen for all those who haven’t seen it (and those who have). No more sexy printed name badges. Little things, but all noticeable.

Trouble is, I don’t think the content suits the event anymore. Designers, on the whole, like to see what others are up to creatively and cultivate tips on working better and smarter. Unfortunately FOWD didn’t really deliver on that, not for me. As an IxD type, the content is not intended for me but I like to keep up with what’s going on. There are clear parallels we can all work towards to achieve better results and better websites.

The big theme, instead of riffing on the future of design, was much more a retrospective of what’s gone before. And I don’t think it was even intentional. Lots of snickering over Photoshop 2. Seeing the guy who designed the original MTV2 brand play all the shorts (very cool, I was a big fan). But I can’t connect the dots between digital stuff that was done in 2001 and the future of web design nearly halfway through 2009.

Only Mark Boulton’s talk on Typography was genuinely inspirational.

Often overlooked and very important for sites that thrive from user-generated content that is written. The question I’ve taken away is how can we help users tell powerful stories by using great typography and design, and integrating that into the page in a more holistic fashion. I’ve ordered his lovely looking book.

There is no clear message or trend going forward, and that’s what has left me a bit cold. FOWD needs to be more practical, maybe a workshop only event. But maybe as a UX person, I should stick to my own scene?

My buddy Kai did his superb doodle notes again, so check them out:

*Update* – Mark’s talk can be listened to here.