Haché

If you can imagine a girly burger joint, Haché would be it. Named after the Gallic term for ‘minced’ (go to Paris and ask for a steak ‘haché’ and you’ll be served a good-quality patty), the restaurant is full of feminine French touches: from pretty vintage chandeliers to the creamy walls with ornate, oversized mirrors. In the open kitchen at the back, classic ‘man food’ is prettied up wherever possible.

On our visit, thick-cut slices of onions were encased in huge balloons of batter, while the frites were proper french fries – thin-cut, seasoned and skinny. They arrived in a cutesy ‘mini fryer basket’: a nice touch. Less impressive were the cajun-spiced chicken wings, with their flabby, not crunchy, coating. The upmarket burgers are decent, though. Our pink-middled patty came topped with melted cheese, smoky bacon and smart salad fillers, including rocket, ripe tomato and slices of red onion, all in a soft brioche bun.

If you want to be really metrosexual, ditch the bun entirely: staff will happily replace it with a green salad. Then all you’ll need as accompaniment is a cup of chamomile tea, made with proper dried flowers. Who said burger joints have to be butch?