Patty and Pickle, Dalston, food review: ‘Big stupid grins’

‘Simple with blasts of interest’: The burger selection. Photograph: courtesy Patty and Pickle

Imagine this. You drip out of Dalston Junction station, London thumping in the primal roar of a heat wave.

Everywhere, beer is sloshing, noses are pink, and people are actually smiling.

Across the road, you spy a winking wine bar and an antique shop-cum-brunch-spot, but you turn and, on the corner, an old boozer holds itself grandly, just waiting.

Well, you don’t have to imagine, as I lived it.

A perfect day, a handsome friend linking my arm, a cocktail or two deep, sweat-slicked but in the best way.

The team at the Crown and Castle, recently shorn of its scaffolding, decided to utilise the massive kitchen gathering dust in the basement.

In came Patty and Pickle, slinging burgers all alone like some meat-based one-man-band (enjoy the messy mental image).

The beef is British, sourced from regenerative farms and from ethical butchers (to a point, obviously), and is also 28-day dry-aged.

The chicken is free-range and hormone-less (poor things).

The burgers are simple enough to please all, but with blasts of interest to keep those oddly passionate bun fans happy.

The setting is a classic station pub, where you might pop in for the first or last pint of the day but leave due to a lack of grub. Until now, that is.

Blood-red walls and odd lamp covers that look like anemones, mustard banquettes and enough window to let in the scorching rays without the cancer risk.

Oh, and air conditioning. Is there anything better in the world than a London pub on a scorching summer’s day? Sorry for my hyperbole. I am half-reptilian on my mother’s side.

There are four burgers, two fry options, chicken tenders and four dips. What more do you need? Unless you don’t like burgers, of course.

The cheeseburger is a serviceable experience, with a marshmallow-sweet Martin’s potato roll. You can double up on the moist meat if you so choose.

Chipotle-fired chicken steps things up a little, thigh sitting high and almost crystalline with batter. Lime mayo and the title sauce mash onto your cheeks and your hair, but you don’t care as it’s just you and this delicious creature alone in the world.

The vegan option has fried chickpea fritters and wild-farmed shokupan (sweet Japanese milk bread). The chickpeas means it starts dry, but wets as you nash on in. This greasy monster is balanced by that Asian glazed casement, and won’t make the meat abstainers feel left out of the carnage.

Try the green chilli burger for a slightly more complex twist on the classic.

The fries are very Shake Shack – crinkly with a house seasoning that tastes like salt and pepper – and the Korean chicken tenders didn’t arrive sadly.

However, the classic dips and three burgers were enough to soak up our sun-based drinks and leave us with big stupid grins on our faces. Sometimes that’s all you need food to do.