Soho Diner: a chip off the old block

Just another diner. Not different, just better.

Diners are like London buses because they're FRICKIN' everywhere. I went past about five on my way down Old Compton Street to the Soho Diner, including several I've already reviewed (like Ed's Easy Diner). And when you're not tripping over diner-themed restaurants, you're walking headlong into trendy burger bars. It's ridiculous.

And I love it. And I also love the Soho Diner. I was as hungover as one of Michael Barrymore's party guests on Saturday and still I finished that burger. True, I had to duck out to the loo twice just to be safe, but I was determined to get through it.

What the diner has so cleverly done is recreate was the McDonald's burger is in our heads before we actually eat it. The patties are thin but rare, the sauce thick and sticky, the cheese so gloopy it sticks to your throat, and all in a sweet brioche bun that feels cheap but so, so good. Perhaps sensing my hangover shakes (or simply smelling the alcohol) they asked if I'd like bacon and eggs on my burger. Ambitiously I said that sounded excellent. It made it seem more like brunch, which is a good, hearty thing to eat when suffering the drinker's withdrawal. The bacon was something else, about 2cm thick and rammed with sweet honey and gammon flavours. And then the egg was perfect and runny, but perfectly circular, just like the crap McDonald's ones.

If all that sounds a little too sycophantic don't read the rest, because I haven't even started on the milkshake - pistachio and honeycomb. Oh my days. If I'd sicked it up I'd have probably tried again it was that good.

Having ranted about the food, the location seems somewhat moot, but it is rather nice. Very spacious and wooden, with cocktails on tap and a decent enough beer list (could do better Soho House, could do better). There was even a European-like gathering of probably-older-than-you-think guys in leather jackets drinking beer from stemmed glasses outside, despite the freakish weather and an enormous delivery truck (probably needed for the extra thick bacon) blocking their view of the street. This is why I have no picture of the outside.

There are some pretty shoddy reviews of the Soho Diner on the usual customer websites. They're hardly a barometer for good food, but I am baffled. It's not changing the world, but Soho House (who run the place along with Chicken Shop, Dirty Burger, PizzaEast and Dean Street Townhouse) never try too. They just nail it. Whoever is at the top knows what the public want, and from a diner it's trashy food done in style, in a place where they would want to come at any time of day. It's open 'til 3am at the weekend, so I know where I'm going when caught short and drunk in Soho. Hopefully I won't need loo breaks at that point.

Ed's diner: the 50s reheated

Great Scott those waffles are heavy!

So having been politely shunted out of Bi Bim Bap (see previous) still hungry, my partner in foodie crime saw only one option: dessert. Being dry/dull January, we decided on Froyo, and quickly trotted off towards Brewer Street, passing Ed's Diner.

But we never made it past. Looking at the outside I suddenly had visions of wearing a red "life preserve" and meeting my dad eating cereal at the bar.

As a 50s diner, Ed's is a little bit tacky, but charming in its own way. It sells Coronas and the staff are camp as Christmas, in contrast to the gruff man in a chef's hat from the movies, and the jukebox is fake. You can't expect any kind of authenticity from a Soho diner, that's not the point of Soho. You live the cliché, even if the buttons don't work.

In my state of over excitement I ordered both waffles and a strawberry milkshake. Both portions were supersized. Two giant waffles with maple syrup and ice cream, and then mixing cup of milkshake filled to the brim. The shake was thick and creamy but lacking a little flavour. More frustratingly, having taken a sip I realised they served Oreo flavour, the King of Milkshakes. The waffles meanwhile were reheated packaged affairs - given the open kitchen in the middle of the diner it wasn't so much that I felt tricked (it's not like the chef sneaked it out of the packaging and into the microwave) but I did expect a little more. Surely batter and a waffle iron would be cheaper in the long run?

I don't know, and to be honest I didn't care. At £7 for waffles, a milkshake, and half an hour of pretending to be Marty McFly I was a pretty happy customer, and so full I had to leave bent over double. The staff are friendly, leaning on the bar and chatting to us. One even sported a Grease-style hair do. It's a great place to wile away an unhealthy hour, but if I were in it for a serious meal I'd go to The Diner just off nearby Carnaby Street.