Fire Burgers
NowFive of them. Thick, steak-style patties seared hard over open flame in a Hokkaido milk bun baked at 5am. The hero of the whole show.
The manifesto
We bake the bread before the city wakes. We braise the meat for hours nobody sees. We build everything in-house, then we finish it over open fire, in front of you, in minutes.
Baked at 5am. Fired at noon.
Why we exist
The founder is the test cook
Fifteen years on the line, still there at 2am, having personally cooked and side-by-side tasted every recipe on the menu.
umami began as a multi-format experiment and was rebuilt into a single disciplined idea: stop buying the bread, stop shipping in the sauce, stop cutting the corner. Bake it, braise it, build it, here. Then let the fire do the last, loud, beautiful minute in front of the guest.
That is the whole brand: the calm, invisible craft of a French kitchen, and the heat and theatre of an open grill. One makes it good. The other makes it ours.
What we make
umami in everything. Starting with the burger.
The idea is umami in every format: the bun, the baguette, the tortilla, the bonbon, all carrying the same obsession. The discipline is to earn each one. We open with the burger, perfected, and add the next vehicle only when it is just as good.
Les Bonbons
NowFour savoury bonbons with molten centres. Nobody else on the row has them.
Wings, Dips & Drinks
NowWings glazed to glass, a seven-sauce Dip Wall, and drinks bottled in our own kitchen so they never separate.
Tacos
~4 monthsSoft-shell and charred, including the one with a crisp cheese crust seared onto the shell. They land once they are perfect, not before.
Bánh Mì
~6 monthsFrench-colonial bread baked in-house, a crust that cracks when you lean in. The only true bánh mì line on the row. Walk-up only, so the crust survives.
One fire
AlwaysWhatever the format, it ends the same way: finished over open flame at the counter, handed across in under six minutes.
Why it costs what it costs
Eighteen hours in.
Six minutes out.
We never say "premium." We let the craft say it. Eighteen-hour braises. Dough retarded for two days. Sauces sheared by hand.
The price isn't a markup. It's the time, the technique and the ingredients, made visible. When someone asks why, the answer is the kitchen, not the marketing.
Time
Dough cold-proofed for two days before it ever sees the oven. Sauces and braises that take hours, not minutes, so the fast minute at the fire has something worth finishing.
Technique
Bread baked here, sauces sheared by hand, everything assembled in-house. No shipped-in shortcut.
Temperature
The slow work happens upstream so the fire can do the fast, loud minute in front of you.
The world it lives in
The calm green-and-gold shop on a loud row
Deep café green, warm crème, antique gold, one ember-orange fire line: the squiggle. French moulding, métro tile with green grout, brass lamps, an open flame at the front and a tree strung with festoon lights above. The look is earned by the oven; the warmth is earned by the fire.
The calm
A French kitchen's discipline
Baking before dawn, braising for hours nobody sees, building every component in-house. The quiet, invisible craft that makes the food good.
The heat
An open grill's theatre
The last, loud, beautiful minute over open flame, in front of you, handed across the counter in minutes. The part that makes it ours.
Come taste the work
Sector 8B Inner Market, Chandigarh. Takeaway, car-hop and delivery. Open for lunch when the rest of the row is still asleep.