Maraschino was a 31 month-old native breed Red Poll cow reared by Helan Arthan in Malpas, Cheshire. After landing on the block of Marcus Wilson at Littlewoods Butchers in Heaton Chapel, Stockport, her final destiny is to become approximately 1200 burgers that will be served at Humbug, a month long burger pop-up at Kampus in central Manchester.
The project is the brainchild of Sam Buckley, chef-patron at Where The Light Gets In (WTLGI), a fine dining restaurant in Stockport town centre that was awarded a Michelin green star for its sustainability efforts in 2021. I have dined there once, and the meal and service I received was, honestly, transcendent. I am constantly puzzled why a full star still eludes it – not that it really matters, as its reputation precedes it.
Don’t try and book yourself in right at this moment, however, as the restaurant is closed for refurbishments until April. Hence why it has taken up residence in the Bungalow at Kampus, juxtaposed alongside the Rochdale Canal until the end of March. Running as a not-pretentious-at-all-sounding project called ‘A Play In The City’ the concept will see WTLGI run a series of month-long pop ups, with Humbug and its ethically-sourced burgers available until February second.
Buckley and WTLGI are well known for their sustainability efforts locally. The green star is hard-earned, with innovative projects such as The Landing – a vegetable garden atop Stockport’s Merseyway shopping centre – helping them to achieve the accolade. My partner has volunteered at The Landing on several occasions, and found it to be as friendly as it is rewarding. This gives me confidence that Buckley’s efforts to comment on “the food system and how connected we are with what we eat” is more than just a load of gas.
But lets be honest with ourselves here: its a fucking hamburger. This isn’t reinventing the wheel. I admit that as I headed towards Kampus on a cold, wet January Tuesday I was at least half-full of cynicism. Will this project actually encourage people to consider the sustainability of the meat they consume? Or will it just provide endless-streams of Insta-fodder for Manchester’s social media elite. My phone resolutely out of my pocket, I was ready to eat a burger in the name of #content.
I was never not going to miss this pop up. If you know me, you know I love cheeseburgers. I am also very particular about what makes a good cheeseburger – which is, basically, the idea that you don’t fuck about with the classic recipe: a nice soft potato or sesame bun, good beef, well seasoned cooked red hot so you get that nice Maillard-infused crust, American cheese for texture and glue, pickles, onions, burger sauce. That’s it. No bacon, no blue cheese, no barbecue sauce, nothing. Don’t mess with my hamburger.
Arriving at Kampus I spy patties searing on a hot griddle, the air thick with smoke and beef fat. I feel optimistic; it does smell good in here. Disappointed to hear that the oyster popcorn (literally deep fried oysters) was sold out, I go for a burger, fries and a beer. For those of you interested, it was a Vinohradsky Fresh Hop Pilsner from the Prague-based brewpub of the same name, and it was very good. Crisp, bitter, perfect burger-fodder. They only do two beers here, a pilsner and a pale ale, but they are both very good, and that’s all you need in a setting like this, really.
The patty mixture provided by Littlewoods (which, I should also add, is my local butcher and pretty much the only place I buy meat from these days) will use the whole of Maraschino in various stages. All cuts will become mince, even the fillets and prime rib. This does feel slightly sacrilegious to me and definitely contributed to my feeling of cynicism, but the proof would be in the eating. On my visit the mixture was reported to feature the teres major, flat irons, Las Vegas strip, chuck, clod and kidneys.
My order arrives quickly. Far quicker than I expected in all honesty. My beer hadn’t even had the time to settle. Tearing open the paper wrapper around the burger I quickly realise my mistake: I forgot to ask for cheese. However, there is no American cheese on offer, just house made cheese sauce for an extra £3.50, which seems steep on top of a £12.50 burger, but perhaps, I thought, it was ethically sourced cheese as well.
Biting into the burger I might as well have been biting into my own words. This was a very good burger. Probably one of the best I’ve ever had. The bread is soft and pillowy, but hardy enough so that it is not disintegrated by fat and juice. The patties are perfectly seasoned, by which I mean they are seasoned liberally, with every bite delivering rich, salty, lucious umami and a mighty kick of black pepper. I could have probably eaten a second right there and then, although I doubt either my stomach or bank account would have thanked me for it. The fries are nice too, mostly as they serve as a good vehicle for the chipotle mayonnaise dip I ordered for dunking. The only thing missing was a melted slice of the cheapest, yellowest American cheese possible, but I suppose that wouldn’t really have fitted in with the rest of the concept.
Having experienced the pedigree of both WTLGI and Littlewoods before, I shouldn’t have been so surprised that it was as good as it was. I leave with a deep feeling of satisfaction and £28.69 (including tip) lighter. Although I remain unconvinced that this concept has this ability to make its diners feel as compassionately about how their meat is sourced and butchered as they do about how delicious their meal was. One cow and one month does not a fresh set of opinions curate. Still, it made me think about it, and I’ll probably think about it a couple more times on return visits before the end of the month. Thank you, Maraschino.