If only the City was run with the efficiency of the Wurst Club; this new purveyor of the great German ‘wurst’ is a model of teutonic efficiency and civility that would make Angela Merkel proud. It’s fast food, so don’t get any ideas about lingering: in traditional German sausage-stand style, there are counters, but no seats. In spite of diners being made to feel slightly like, well, a sausage in a sausage factory, the cooking is spot-on. We enjoyed our riesenbockwurst, an extra-long (riesen means ‘giant’) hot-dog where the thick, smokey casing gave way to a juicy pork centre. Instead of a bun, this came in its birthday suit, with only a layer of delicate, caraway-seed-flecked sauerkraut to cover its modesty. Equally enjoyable was an own-made potato salad, made to a traditional recipe with chunks of potato, boiled egg and sweet gherkins wrapped up in a creamy mayonnaise coat. The unflappable staff switch effortlessly from Deutsch to jocular English, treating the incoming City boys – many of them slick German bankers – like old friends. Tania Ballantine
For info, see the-wurst-club.co.uk.