Simply Smashed

I didn’t plan to build Simply Smashed – we built it to survive. In early 2020, just as the lockdown was being announced, my parents boarded a flight back to Bangladesh, leaving my brother, Sifat Ahmed, and me to manage our family’s Italian restaurant in East London. What was meant to be a routine trip turned into a months-long ordeal. Suddenly, we were on our own, struggling to keep the business afloat without knowing when our parents could return. Those months were some of the most intense and challenging of my life. Between finishing my degree apprenticeship at Goldman Sachs, navigating repatriation flights to bring my parents, and even dealing with a burglary at the restaurant, it felt like we were up against a storm. We knew we had to go back to basics. We transformed the delivery experience, launched two critical campaigns, and even got featured on Islam Channel for our efforts to donate pizzas to NHS staff during the pandemic – all while operating from the red. This is why community is one of the foundations of our brand. Simply Smashed was born out of sheer necessity. It wasn’t a start from scratch; it was a start from survival. Today, we're proud to be a family-run business as the highest rated burger joint in London (4.9* 1800+ Google reviews) with a story grounded in resilience and community. Loved speaking to Areeb Siddiqui on his podcast about our journey and what's to come next!

We sold burgers from the back of a flower shop. And it saved our restaurant. Our full-service Italian restaurant was dying after COVID hit. My brother had what seemed like the worst idea ever: "Let's share space with a flower shop and focus on delivery only." I thought he'd lost his mind. Our runway was coming to an end. But when you're drowning, you grab any lifeline. He found the perfect partner - a flower shop that donated profits to Pakistani hospitals. Value-aligned. Rent-splitting. Life-saving. The setup was surreal. Customers walked through rows of roses to pick up our burgers. TikTokers filmed themselves navigating bouquets for delivery pickups. One tweet still makes me laugh: "Only in Tower Hamlets would you find Bengali brothers selling burgers from the back of a flower shop." But here's what happened behind those flowers: We stripped everything to the bone. No dining room overheads. No server wages. Just us, a £100 grill, and laser focus on the perfect burger. Whilst other restaurants fought to save their dining rooms, we mastered what people actually wanted: delivery excellence. The "backwards" move taught us forward thinking. That flower shop partnership didn't just keep us alive. It made us London's highest-rated burger joint. Pride kills more businesses than competition ever will. I see entrepreneurs clinging to status symbols whilst their bank accounts drain. The fancy office. The prestigious location. The "way things should be done." Sometimes the most successful move looks like complete failure from the outside. Sometimes you have to bloom where you're planted, even if it's behind the roses. What would your business look like if you stripped away everything except what actually drives results?

Three years ago, we borrowed a projector. This summer, we packed out a living room. When we opened Simply Smashed three years ago, it was during the Euros final. At the time, we were a dark kitchen, but we started getting requests to show the game. So, I borrowed a projector from a friend, put together some tables, and screened the final in-store. It felt like something was missing—a Muslim-friendly atmosphere to watch live sports. That night planted a seed. We weathered the storm as a dark kitchen, built our reputation, and became a Top Eats vendor on Uber Eats, a certification awarded to the platform's highest-performing restaurants. When we finally had enough together, we renovated the space with one clear goal: to create a communal living room. A Muslim-friendly "third space" where people could gather, relax, and feel at home. Fast forward to this summer, and we hosted our second Euros final. Alhamdulillah, we’ve come a long way. We’ve added two screens, brought in sofas, and designed the space ourselves to look and feel like a living room. The atmosphere was incredible, and the place was full. Our vision is to create a true third space for Muslims. If non-Muslims have pubs to see their regular community, why shouldn’t Muslims have something similar? An alcohol-free, music-free space where everyone, Muslim or not, can find their community outside the pub. It’s humbling to reflect on how far we’ve come, and it’s exciting to think about what’s next. Who knows where we’ll be by the next Euros, inshaAllah?

We went from 50-minute order times to 8 minutes. This simple screen represents everything we've been through to get here. Two years ago, I was crawling behind fridges looking for lost receipts. We were taking orders on notepads in the back of a flower shop. Scribbling down orders, crumpling paper, throwing it to the back of house. When we "upgraded" to receipts, we printed doubles because we kept losing them. Internet goes out? Back to notepad chaos. Rush hour? Receipts everywhere. Behind fridges, through floor cracks, completely vanished. Customers asking "where's my food?" while we're on our hands and knees searching. Kitchen screaming over the noise because that's the only way to communicate. If you've worked hospitality, you know this stress. If you haven't, you have no idea what happens behind those kitchen doors. The thing is, people don't see this part. They don't see the 50-minute wait times we used to have to get here. The frustrated faces. The orders we had to remake because we lost the ticket. This screen might look standard to you. To me, it represents every chaotic shift we survived to get here. Clean. Digital. Orders flow seamlessly from front to back. I had a moment today just staring at this screen. Feeling proud of how far we've come. From the back of a flower shop to London's highest-rated burger joint. But here's what gets me excited about SS 2.0. This is just the beginning. My software engineering background is finally fusing with everything we've learned in hospitality. We're using technology to solve every pain point we lived through. Even building custom AI agents to level up our customer service even further. Because the moment you stop improving is the moment someone else passes you.

8am on a bank holiday Monday. Me, a coffee, and 50 ethernet cables I had no idea how to install. Welcome to SS 2.0. I'm installing structured cabling for our new kiosk systems at Simply Smashed. First time in my life doing anything like this. "What's a patch panel?" I asked ChatGPT at 8:17am. "How do you terminate Cat6 cables?" at 9:43am. "Why is nothing working?" at 11:22am. By 2pm, I had a fully functioning network infrastructure I'd built from scratch. Here's what hit me: AI has brought back my joy of learning. Not the forced, academic way that killed my appetite in school. The way I actually learn best - by doing, by building, by solving real problems. People always say "I need to learn AI" or "I should learn coding" but never start. Here's why: They're trying to learn a field, not solve a problem. Want to actually learn something? Don't pick a subject. Pick an outcome. I didn't set out to learn structured cabling. I set out to install kiosks that'll transform our customer experience. The cabling knowledge was just what I needed to get there. Every skill I've gained building Simply Smashed came this way. Not from courses or textbooks, but from having something I desperately wanted to build. And now with AI as my personal tutor? I can learn anything I need, exactly when I need it. The builder in me isn't just back. It's supercharged. This is just the beginning of SS 2.0. So much more coming.

Why we're closing our restaurant for the first week of Ramadan... And why it'll cost us 30% of our monthly revenue: Most restaurants are rushing to capitalize on Iftar sales right now. We're doing the opposite. At Simply Smashed, we've made it a tradition to close during Ramadan's first week. Here's why: Iftar service is brutal. Imagine 50+ concurrent orders hitting simultaneously, all made fresh to order. Our team works incredibly hard during this month, managing both their fasts and intense service periods. So we give them this time to: • Reset mentally • Connect with family • Focus on their spiritual journey But we don't stop there. Throughout Ramadan, we only open an hour before Iftar. No daytime operations. No pressure on our fasting staff. These decisions cost us about 20-30% of our usual monthly revenue. But you know what? Values > Profits. I've worked through many Ramadans before starting this business. I know how challenging it can be to balance work and worship during this sacred month. That's why, as we've grown, we've intentionally built these accommodations into our business model. It might not be what maximizes profit. But it maximizes barakah (blessing). And that's the foundation we're building on. ↓ If you're interested in learning more about how we're building a values-first business, follow me for regular insights on ethical entrepreneurship.

The UK has a prayer space problem—and we've all felt it. Many restaurants market iftar deals for Ramadan, but forget the most important part—a place to pray. Picture this: You're out for iftar. The restaurant's packed with Muslims breaking their fast. Maghrib time comes... but there's nowhere to pray. And it's not just Ramadan. Mosques closed between jama'ah. Tight salah windows in winter. Sisters left with even fewer options. We can do better. We must do better. That's why at Simply Smashed, prayer spaces have been available since we first opened our doors. Last month, we made it our pledge that every future Simply Smashed location will have a dedicated place to pray. Every Simply Smashed location offers a place to pray—brothers and sisters alike. Just ask our staff, and we'll make it happen. And here's the key part: You don't have to be a customer. If you need to pray, our doors are open for you. We know mosques are doing their best. Many are donation-based and rely on volunteers, making it difficult to stay open all day. That's where businesses like ours can step in to help fill the gaps. This is about more than burgers. We're committed to making prayer spaces available everywhere we grow: • Every Simply Smashed location has dedicated prayer facilities, alhamdulillah • We ensure both brothers and sisters have equal, dignified spaces • Our staff are trained to help facilitate prayer space access • Prayer mats are always available and clean No Muslim should have to miss salah or pray in a car park because they couldn't find a space. No sister should feel anxious about where she'll pray Asr during a shopping trip. No one should have to choose between breaking their fast at a restaurant and making maghrib prayer on time. This is our open prayer policy. But our vision goes beyond us. Imagine a network of accessible prayer spaces across the UK—cafés, restaurants, and businesses creating solutions for the community. This is our step forward, and we hope it inspires others to join us. We build with barakah, and we're proud to serve our community in more ways than one. Check us out at Simply Smashed and follow along as we continue building with barakah 🙏🏾

We ban men from eating at our restaurant. Well, on Sisters’ Nights, at least. At Simply Smashed, our Sisters’ Nights are one-of-a-kind: exclusive evenings where only women are allowed to eat in-store. These nights are about more than just food. They create a safe, welcoming space for women to relax, connect, and enjoy themselves. Our most recent Sisters’ Night was a collaboration with Shabbir Hassan’s Faith Space, where we hosted a Palestinian-themed evening. Faith Space brought in Palestinian speakers to share their stories, and 50% of the night’s proceeds were donated to Human Aid & Advocacy’s Gaza Appeal. Initiatives like these tie directly into the larger mission of Simply Smashed: elevating the standards of Muslim entrepreneurship. Why do we do things like Sisters’ Nights? Because the best way to inspire change isn’t by telling others what to do—it’s by leading with action. Since launching Sisters’ Nights, we’ve already seen other restaurants follow the trend and host their own versions. And that’s the goal. To show that initiatives like these are not only meaningful but commercially viable. And if they’re commercially viable, you’ll see other businesses follow—something we know all too well in the Muslim food industry. This is part of our wider approach of building with barakah and injecting creativity to inspire others. It’s about setting trends that strengthen our communities and create lasting change. If you’ve been to one of our Sisters’ Nights, we’d love to hear your thoughts. And if not—keep an eye out for the next one. PS: What do you think of the banner? Can anyone guess which brand I got inspiration from for the copy? (Hint: It’s from a chocolate.)

The landlord had one requirement: sell beer. We said no and left. A while back, I was standing inside this perfect empty pub thinking about everything we could build there. 18 months it had been sitting vacant. Dust on the windows, chairs stacked on tables, that sad emptiness of a place where people used to gather. But I could see it transformed: families sharing smash burgers where bar stools used to be, kids laughing where drunk arguments once happened, our punching machine where kegs used to sit - people competing to beat the high score instead of drowning their sorrows. The space was perfect. The rent was reasonable. The location had everything we needed. Then the landlord restrictions hit us like a cold slap. Heineken owns the building. Every tenant must sell beer on the premises. No exceptions. For our halal concept, that's not just impossible - it goes against everything we stand for. I felt that familiar knot in my stomach. The same one I get when people suggest we "just add a few non-halal options" to capture more customers. This wasn't about finding a loophole. This was about a company stuck in 1995 trying to force 2025 businesses into their dying model. Here's what most people don't understand: since 2000, the UK has lost 15,800 pubs. That's 35% of them completely gone. Last year alone, 490 more closed permanently. This isn't random bad luck. This is what happens when you build your entire business model around something people increasingly don't want. Meanwhile, we're building spaces where everyone belongs. Where great food brings people together instead of alcohol dividing them. Where a Muslim family and their non-Muslim neighbors can share the same table without anyone feeling excluded. That empty pub sitting there for 18 months? Perfect metaphor for what happens when you refuse to evolve. I walked out feeling disappointed for exactly two hours. Then I realized something: Heineken's inflexibility just saved us from partnering with a company that fundamentally doesn't understand the future we're building. We're not just opening restaurants. We're proving that the old model of social spaces - built around exclusion, centered on alcohol, designed for a narrow demographic - is finished. Every time an established player tells us our approach won't work, the market proves them wrong. Every time someone says we're being too restrictive by staying halal, our customers show us the opposite: they're hungry for spaces that don't require them to compromise their values. The same family obsession with perfection that saved us during COVID. That perfect location is still out there somewhere. When we find it, the landlord will understand what we're building instead of trying to force us into their expired playbook. Sometimes the best opportunities come disguised as closed doors. This one just reminded us why we're building something completely different.

We got review bombed for supporting Palestine, so we doubled down - now we're UK's #1 rated burger joint. I remember when we first started getting review-bombed. One-star reviews started trickling in. No comments, just stars. Then we saw the pattern: People targeting us because we chose to stock Salam Cola (which donates 10% to Palestine) over mainstream alternatives. Their message was clear: "The food industry shouldn't be involved in politics." But here's what they didn't understand: When your entire supply chain shares your values (from butchers to distributors), and your customer base shares your values, the only thing silencing you is yourself. So we decided to flip the script. Within 4 days, we: • Launched a special burger campaign • Partnered with Muslim Aid UK • Donated 100% of profits to Gaza • Doubled down on our partnership with Salaam Cola France The result? Over £4,000 raised in just one week. But more importantly, our community rallied behind us with thousands of genuine 5-star reviews. This taught me something profound about business: Many Muslim business owners operate from fear: • Fear of standing out • Fear of rocking the boat • Fear of losing customers But here's the truth: If your values align with your community, standing firm only makes you stronger. That's why Simply Smashed isn't just a burger joint. We're setting a new standard for Muslim businesses: • Prayer rooms in our restaurant • Sisters-only dining nights • Quran recitation in our content • Unapologetic support for causes we believe in The best part? Other restaurants are following suit. Because the best way to change an industry isn't through force. It's by showing there's a better way. ↓ If you enjoyed this, follow me for more insights on building value-driven businesses.

"You're the Palestinian burger guy, right?" 8 hours of interrogation. That's how I knew we were onto something. Three weeks ago, Ibrahim Javed and I tried to cross into the West Bank. Routine questions became an 8-hour detention. Separated rooms. Aggressive searches. They'd found our Simply Smashed campaigns, Palestine flags, Gaza fundraising, everything we thought was "just charity work from a burger joint." Then the interrogator snapped. Started hurling abuse. Told me to "get the f*** out of his country." Here's the thing: He cracked. I didn't. Ibrahim and I walked out and burst into laughter. Not from humour but from validation. They'd just proven our "small" actions had real impact. When charity drives from a burger joint trigger 8-hour government detention? Your "small" actions aren't small at all. Every campaign compounds. Every stand creates ripples they can't ignore. But here's what happened next: Still processing our rejection, Ibrahim and I immediately started talking solutions. Technical platforms for community organizing. Tools to counter systemic discrimination. Solutions to address what we'd just experienced firsthand. The same system that spent 8 hours trying to discourage us accidentally energized us to build even more. Two builders, detained for what they called "small" activism, walking away planning solutions that weren't small at all. That's when it hit me: We spend years perfecting our craft. Chasing ARR. Building unicorns for investors. But our communities don't need more donated profit margins. They need builders using their skills where it matters most. The same product thinking that scales startups? It can scale justice. That's why I'm proud to support the team running Deen Developers's Hack for Gaza. Because the best validation isn't an 8-hour interrogation. It's building solutions so powerful they make interrogations irrelevant. Your skills are your superpower. Time to use them. Join us. Link in comments. ⬇️

These teenage brothers just recited the entire Quran from memory in 9 hours - finishing just 2 seconds apart. Here's why their story matters to our entire community: At dawn, Abdurrahman (15) and Saabiq (16) began their extraordinary challenge. Hour after hour, verse after verse, they raced through 6,236 verses purely from memory. By 4:30pm, they had achieved what takes most people years to accomplish. Their father walked through our doors, eyes gleaming with joy, his sons' achievement radiating through his proud smile. We've partnered with Quran Revision Project - Europe's largest gathering of Huffadh - for our Road to Ramadan campaign, offering free meals to these dedicated memorizers of the Quran. But this isn't just about food. It's about recognition. It's about saying: "We see you." Our Huffadh represent something profound in our community: The preservation of our heritage. The bridge between generations. The future of our spiritual leadership. Yet too often, these young champions go unrecognized: • Years of dawn-to-dusk dedication • Sacrificing typical teenage experiences • Balancing intense memorization with school • Carrying the weight of religious responsibility at such a young age This Ramadan, they'll lead Taraweeh prayers at their local mosque in Barking. Think about that - at 15 and 16, they'll guide hundreds in prayer. At Simply Smashed, we believe business isn't just about transactions. It's about strengthening the fabric of our community. It's about creating spaces where achievements like these are celebrated. Where young people feel seen, valued, and supported. Because when we uplift our youth, we elevate our entire community. When we celebrate their dedication, we inspire the next generation. When we show them we're proud, we give them the strength to continue. ↓ This Ramadan, let's commit to appreciating our Huffadh more. They're not just memorizing text - they're preserving our heritage, one verse at a time. Share this to show our young Huffadh: Your community stands with you. We see you. And we are incredibly proud.

We gamified Quran memorization with burgers and milkshakes. Here's why 100+ huffadh are loving it: Walking through East London Mosque, you see them everywhere. Brothers in corners perfecting every ayah of the Quran. Some staying up late, others coming at Fajr. Many of us struggle to just finish reading the Quran during Ramadan. But these huffadh (memorizers) perfect it completely - verse by verse, chapter by chapter. And they do this every single year. Most don't realize the sacrifice: • Months away from family • Time off work • Countless hours of revision • Mental strain of perfection That's why we launched our "Road to Ramadan" campaign at Simply Smashed. We've gamified their Quran revision journey: • 5 chapters = Punch on our machine • 10 chapters = Milkshake • 15 chapters = Tiramisu • 20 chapters = Wings • 25 chapters = Loaded fries • Complete Quran = Everything + burger We're partnering with Europe's largest gathering of huffadh - where hundreds come to revise. When we started Simply Smashed, people said "just focus on the burgers." But it was never just about the food. We're about recognizing the people in our community who don't get enough recognition. The ones who sacrifice silently. The ones who serve others without praise. That's what barakah-based building means to us. Not maximizing profits. Maximizing impact. Sometimes that means Sisters' Nights. Sometimes Fajr Knights. And sometimes it means supporting those who preserve the words of Allah. It might not be much, but it's our way of saying: We see your dedication. We appreciate your sacrifice. ↓ This Ramadan, let's show our huffadh they're valued. Drop by Simply Smashed to support their journey and maybe catch them taking a well-deserved break between revisions.

Yes. I am the face of that meme you see every Ramadan... The story of how my face became a global Muslim internet phenomenon: I'm that guy from the "When you're fasting but..." meme. You know, the one that resurfaces every single Ramadan across multiple countries. One of the wildest moments? Standing in line for Fajr prayer and seeing someone scrolling through that meme on their phone. Right next to me. The story behind it is pretty simple: I made a joke post when I was 15. Not even based on real experience - just something my friend and I thought would be funny. But it took on a life of its own. The meme has been translated into languages I can't even read. It's been remixed into marriage posts (because Muslim Twitter always finds a way). People have twisted it, turned it, and transformed it into their own versions. Every Ramadan, without fail, it comes back in new forms. Screenshots, reposts, tags - crossing cultural and language barriers I never imagined. At first, I wasn't sure how to feel about being an international meme. Then I had a realization: If life gives you viral memes, use them. So we recreated the entire meme inside Simply Smashed, our restaurant. Complete with my dad in the shot (yes, he's a good sport). Sometimes your biggest "embarrassments" can become opportunities. You just have to lean into them. ↓ If you enjoyed this story, follow me for more insights on building a brand that stands out (even if it starts with becoming a global meme phenomenon).

I once hired a Boris bike to deliver a missing chicken burger to a customer's front door. He grabbed the bag, and shut the door without a word. We were mid-rush at Simply Smashed, maybe a Friday night, orders stacking up on the UberEats tablet. I checked a bag going out and realised we'd missed an item. Chicken burger, already paid for, already on its way to someone's house minus the thing they actually wanted. So I called the customer. Got the address. It was like a 5 minute cycle away. I ran outside, tapped a Boris bike, put the bag in the basket and just started pedalling through Whitechapel. Got there, knocked on the door, slightly out of breath. The guy opens it, looks at the bag, takes it, and closes the door. No thank you, no eye contact, nothing. I stood there for a second like... cool. Then I cycled back to the shop and got on with service. The thing is, I'm not telling this story because the guy was rude. He probably didn't even clock what just happened. He ordered food, food arrived, life continued. That's honestly fair enough. I'm telling it because that's what the early days of building anything actually feel like. You sprint to solve a problem nobody asked you to sprint for. You over-deliver by a stupid amount. And the response is silence. The guy didn't leave a review. He definitely didn't sign up for a loyalty program. I'm fairly sure he didn't even realise the founder just personally cycled a chicken burger to his door. Just a closed door and a Boris bike to return. And you go back and do it again the next night because that's the job. The gap between what you put in and what you get back is enormous when you're starting out. You have to be okay with that gap or you won't survive it.

I've left Simply Smashed. After 2 years of building the highest rated burger joint in London, I'm stepping back. My brother's taking over day-to-day. I'm building something new. It's strange to write that. This was never supposed to be my thing. My dad has been in the food industry for over 35 years. Started in a tiny French seaside town called Dieppe where it felt like we were the only asian family around, been doing this since before I was born. The restaurant was always his world. Then my parents got on a flight to Bangladesh and lockdown got announced mid-air. Me and my brother suddenly had a restaurant with no customers, staff who needed paying, and rent that didn't care about pandemics. We ran the Help Our Heroes campaign, delivered thousands of pizza slices to hospitals across London, kept the lights on for months. When we started thinking about selling, a buyer came in and made my dad feel like a fool. Said we were "bleeding out." Made a lowball offer so insulting my dad slammed the table and walked out. They just smirked and lit cigarettes outside. That led to a chain of events which led up to starting Simply Smashed. We launched three concepts at once. Simply Smashed just happened to be the one that took off. A £100 grill. Tables pushed away. The front space rented to a flower shop so people walked through flowers to pick up their burgers. We had no money to do it properly so we just told people what we were building and let them watch us figure it out. Today we're rated 4.9 stars. The highest rated burger joint in London. Looking back now it's hard to separate Simply Smashed from my family. My dad showing up every single time we needed him. My brother building operations that actually worked. My sister-in-law who created half the recipes we still serve today. We got review bombed for stocking Salaam Cola and the community showed up for us. Grateful for all of it. This was always a family thing. It still is. My brother has been with us from early and I trust him completely to take Simply Smashed and Peruvian Street Kitchen forward. I'm not disappearing - I'll still be around for strategic oversight. But the day-to-day is his now. Excited to see where he takes them both. I'm building something new. Can't say much yet but if you followed the Simply Smashed journey, you know the playbook. More soon iA.