The other object of public passion has been the Windsor burger. Made of all-natural meat from Painted Hills in Oregon, it has an outstandingly beefy savor, gilded with good Brit cheddar and crispy blades of homemade bacon. But the grind is too fine and tightly packed to quite reach my burger pantheon. In addition, the kitchen's nagging default is to undercook it (i.e. medium-rare equals medium).
There were a few other letdowns. The chicken wings, a mundane item that many a clever chef has reinvented, were puny and boring. The crab-cake sandwich was oversalted. A chunk of grilled lamb leg was too big, leaving it tough and chewy. The soda biscuit alongside the sublimely tender roast chicken could be less huge and lumpy. And intriguing sides - thyme-braised carrots, Brussels sprouts with bacon, and mustard green beans - were uniformly undercooked.