With a name like Bun Intended, we can only assume that whoever started this new GK1 venture is an insouciant optimist, and is counting on two things. One: no matter who you are or what you do, from time to time you just want a greasy pile of meat and cheese to appear at your doorstep. (They’re not wrong. This review was conducted with the help of one person who had just spent the day bridal shopping in Lajpat Nagar, another who’d spent hours holed up researching a blockbuster feminist biography, and a third who is PMS-ing. Can you say “My body is bready”?)
Two: that no matter where you live, they can bring you a burger before it decomposes into its elements. This is a real challenge. A burger’s soul, like Jon Snow’s common sense, lives in permafrost. It wants to revert to its origins the minute it’s been assembled. Bun Intended’s plentiful options, gourmet ingredients, and prices that put it well out of the range of a cheap quick-fix, all signify that they are confident about sending you a sandwich before it gets soggy.
In spite of our scepticism on this count, we order up a storm with a quick, painless phone call. Although we are only two neighbourhoods away, these are peak hours and our polite, efficient server predicts about an hour’s delivery time. Thinking feelingly of those poor burgers shuddering along on the Moolchand flyover, we resign ourselves to the wait.
It turns out the burgers are fine, encased in sturdy boxes, swaddled in buttered paper and pinned in place with a cherry tomato on a toothpick. However, it’s too late to save the cajun fries, which have entered the potato version of rigor mortis. It was ever thus. A portion of chicken wings, which we order with “fiery sauce,” turns out to be innocuous: edible but hardly imaginative.
We say (ba)tata and turn, instead to a bright, bouncy “Spring” salad, which pulls green apple and asparagus together with assorted lettuce, grapes and blue cheese. Its accompanying strawberry vinaigrette is zesty and sweet. Each of us is already feeling virtuous, and secretly wondering if it’s kosher to ring up s burger takeaway just to order their salad for future dinners.
A burger’s soul, like Jon Snow’s common sense, lives in permafrost. It wants to revert to its origins the minute it’s been assembled. Bun Intended’s plentiful options, gourmet ingredients, and prices that put it well out of the range of a cheap quick-fix, all signify that they are confident about sending you a sandwich before it gets soggy.
We try four burgers. Each is built on white bread, whose only distinguishing quality is the words "Bun Intended" stamped across the top. In spite of this, The Legend, a tenderloin in JD sauce and blue cheese with bacon chilli relish is a roaring success, as decadent and full of flavour as anyone could wish. It’s so good that we don’t miss the avocado salsa the menu notes in this burger, even if we can’t taste it at all. Dizzy Duck, which consists of pulled duck with lean bacon, emmental and gherkins delivers on all the promises contained in those magic words. Be warned, though: you really have to be in the mood for a burger like this, which is almost all fat. It’s like eating a silk shirt glazed in cranberry sauce and salt.
Lamb of God’s, in spite of its mystifying apostrophe, offers a host of familiar comforts: a crisp lamb patty, caramelised onions and sliced bell peppers that haven’t yet given up the ghost. Perhaps it’s no surprise that we’re disappointed by the time we get around to Magic Shroom, with a button and shiitake mushroom patty that seems flat and unexciting in comparison to its meaty siblings. Still, it’s one of the nobler vegetarian burgers we’ve eaten in Delhi. Better still, it comes from a menu with three other vegetarian options, none of which are aloo or paneer. We’ll give Bun Intended all the points for imagination.
Bun Intended also offers you an an elaborate list of ingredients and sauces that will allow you to build your own burgers. There are also wraps, baos, milkshakes and dessert, for which we entertain high hopes on future orders. We’ll wait for them to solve the fries problem, and maybe to offer more variety on that bread, before recommending them unreservedly. But we’ve also saved their number for when it’s that time of the bun-th again.
Accessibility: Bun Intended has no dine-in options.
bpb reviews anonymously and pays for its own meals.
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