Little Smash
One thin patty, American cheese, griddled onions, dill pickles and Dilly sauce.
£7.50
Every patty starts as a loose ball of chuck and brisket, pressed flat on steel until its edges turn to brown lace. Cheese on, bun steamed, pickles in, wrapped in check paper and passed over the counter still hissing.
The whole method fits on the back of an order ticket. We still argue about it every morning.
Seventy grams of chuck and brisket, rolled loose. No salt until it lands.
Pressed flat on hot steel until the whole underside touches the griddle.
Flipped with a sharp scraper so the crust comes with it, not left behind.
American cheese on and a steel dome over it for twenty seconds.
Steamed bun, sauce, pickles, patty, then a sheet of check paper.
At seven every morning Ruth fills the jars in the room above the bar. Whatever is ready by noon goes on the burgers; the rest waits its turn.
Cucumber, dill, garlic and a long cold cure. The jar on every table.
Sweet, sour and turmeric yellow. On the Hot Hen.
Red onion in hot brine, pink by lunchtime. On the Little Smash.
A quick cure that keeps the heat. On the Green Room.
Firm and tart, the winter jar. Ask what's in it this week.
Forty seats on Example Street: a counter in front of the griddle, booths along the wall and a bar at the back that stays open late.
Order here, watch the griddle, wait for your name. Twelve stools face the steel, so the best seat in the house is also the loudest.
Green leather, room for six, a jar of dill spears on every table. Squeeze in; nobody minds an elbow.
Glasgow lager, pickleback shots and a check floor that has seen a few things. Open till midnight on Fridays and Saturdays.
Mon
The new jar from upstairs goes round the room. You taste, you vote, and the winner goes on the menu.
Wed
Two Little Smashes for twelve pounds from five till close. Bring someone, or don't.
Fri
The street window stays open till one in the morning. Burgers in check paper, nothing fancy.
Sun
Kids eat free with every grown-up burger, from noon till six.
Order at the counter.
We shout your name when it's ready. Loudly.
Hands, not cutlery.
Napkins are free and endless.
The pickle jar is shared.
Use the tongs. Everyone is watching.
Booths seat six. Squeeze.
Seven or more? Book a booth below.
Extra brine is fine.
Nobody judges. We do it too.
Anything else, ring the bar on 0141 000 0000.
For six or more, yes: use the form below or call. Smaller groups just walk in; the wait is rarely longer than a song or two.
The Green Room is vegetarian, and any burger can swap to its patty for free. Ask for the vegan bun and cheese and it's vegan too.
We keep gluten-free buns, but the griddle and the fryer are shared, so we can't promise there are no traces.
On a card at the counter, burger by burger. Tell us before you order and the cook will talk you through it.
Dogs are welcome in the booths at the back. There's a water bowl by the door.
No. Call ahead and collect from the street window; it will be ready in ten minutes, still hot.
Crispy edges like lace, and a bun that doesn't give up halfway.
I asked for extra brine and nobody blinked. That's my place now.
The Hot Hen made me late for a train, and I would do it again.
Booth for six, nine of us, two Little Smashes each. No regrets.
Pickle Club on a Monday is the best thing on Example Street.
My dad asked for a knife and fork. They gave him more napkins.