Steers, Lobster Lane

31 March 2007

Some people can pogo, others can understand vectors. Once, I even read about a bloke who could write different academic papers with each hand while holding an unrelated conversation (less useful than it sounds, apparently). Mrs Wifey – she can sleep.

Sometimes – when she’s really been champing at the bit – I leave her to it. Everyone needs their me time, and besides, it’s good to have hobbies. By midday though, I see that our breakfast-meter has ticked over from fashionably late to positively indecent, with vulgar sloth on the none too distant horizon.

The weekend shopping trip therefore begins somewhat behind schedule, and the list is necessarily stripped down to the bare bones. Yet despite this reduced agenda, our spirit cracks after just ten minutes in Gap and we are in urgent need of soul food.

However, in the absence of rice and peas and Red Rip (Norwich not being a hotbed of West Indian cuisine), we’re ready to compromise for anything within 200 yards.

Now, I’m a man of simple double standards. For example, if I can’t see inside a pub, I’ll not venture in. Pressganging may be less common these days, but business is brisk in wicker man pubs, and we are in Norfolk, after all.

When it comes to eating, however, I ain’t so proud. The door next to Thorns hardware store is open, and all that’s visible is the stairwell and the promise of burger.

Two flights later, we enter a well-windowed expanse that looks onto Pottergate. It’s much larger and lighter than Captain America’s, just around the corner, it has better beer (ie not just watery US lager) and St Gregory’s church makes good scenery.

It also has the best picture of a North Sea drilling platform that I’ve ever seen in a gent’s toilet, *anywhere*. I asked for the skinny: ‘It was like that when we got here.’

The burgers weren’t *bad*, but my heart and head always dip when I can’t have my beef rare. The chilli was less sweet and meaty than at Captain America’s (a good thing) but also had too much tomato paste (a bad thing). As for the chips – they were nice. But they weren’t fries.

Norwich has an abundance of American-style chow houses, and Zaks, for one, does a better burger spread. Maybe we should sacrifice this one and redevelop the oil rig niche.

Eat here: with 2 for 1 offer flyer
Keywords: high up rig chic