An awful rumour was circulated following the recent publication of my account of the difficulties I experienced trying to eat a Greek-style salad in the cafe at Waitrose in Wellington. Namely that my tie had been sponsored by the carpet in the local Wetherspoons.
To clear my good name and put the gossip to rest, I have, without fear or favour, reviewed my lunchtime experience at Wellington's Iron Duke, at the corner of North Street in the town centre, a short walk from the newspaper office.
My lunch and work now being one and the same, I was able to claim it as an expense. Being the conscientious employee that I am, I ordered the most expensive burger on the menu.
The Empire State Burger contained four 3oz beef patties, American style cheese, and maple cured bacon. My burger towered over the blue plate below, no less indomitably than its namesake over the Hudson.
I took my seat toward the back of the venue, so as to avoid prying eyes. I knew I would need to take pictures of myself and the food - and was wary of being caught in flagrante delicto taking selfies at the pub.
From my wooden throne I could see words upon the wall to my front. They read: publish and be damned. I supposed this was a good omen.
A staff member told me that my food would take 10 minutes to arrive. It was at my table within five. I wondered if chef Mike(rowave) had a hand in its making.
The dish was served up by a terrifically polite waitress with a beaming smile.
My ‘free lunch’ turned to ashes in my mouth as it dawned on me that my very mastication had been press-ganged into the service of the Wellington Weekly News. I had become a victim of my own success. Like the residents of Animal Farm, I looked from lunch to work and from work to lunch, and already it was impossible to say which was which.
After nary a couple of bites it became apparent this was no meal of any sort. It was a duel. It was me and this great behemoth of a burger. The steaks were high – around 10cm in total from plate to bun crest.
I could hardly order such a huge meal and leave it unfinished, the embarrassment wouldn’t bear thinking about. On the other hand, a clean plate might be seen as gluttonous. I made my compromise, devoured the main attraction, and discarded the chips. They were poor in any case.
The effect of the burger was to render me hungover. This though, is an observation rather than a criticism. I picks my choice and I pays my price.
The onion rings that lay upon the chips have so far gone unremarked upon on account of them being unremarkable. The Pepsi was sufficiently brown and fizzy.
The prospect of another poor lunch threatened to make this the winter of my discontent. But in the end I can report I was ultimately satisfied. For service with a smile I award the Iron Duke’s Empire State Burger 3 and a half stars out of 5. A fair Weatherspoon.