MeatBlog

Yes, it was amazing. So amazing we forgot to take pictures of the food or excellent accompanying wine.

All we have are these tinted memento’s of what was a quite astonishing feast, as they say you had to be there, really you had to be there…

If you’re ever in West London and can spare a few hours, book a table, because a Michelin starred pub is a wondrous thing.

Here are excerpts from the Meat Notes:

Fallow deer came back into season on the 12th August and are in prime condition. All of the venison comes from Berkshire and was probably shot on either the Kirby or Henley Estates. From the outset, The Harwood Arms wanted to show off the versatility and deliciousness of venison.

Fallow are big herd deer, introduced by the Normans in the 10th century and have done very well. They posses long grain meat that is tender and succulent, supplying the Harwood’s wonderful paves and T bone steaks.

Venison at the Harwood is healthy, sustainable and humanely culled.

Deer stalking is hard work and very physical, and requires excellent fieldcraft and skill to outwit these challenging creatures. The goal is to get close enough (under 200yds) to kill instantly, thus is completely unstressed when killed… Wait until the deer is perfectly side on, presenting a clean shot. Then check the range, squeeze the trigger and the deer falls dead.

Our normal plan of attack is to book weeks in advance, request a special menu and be entertained by the finest food known to man. Occasionally (usually when the organisation is going a bit off) we like to turn up unannounced and flesh mob.

Now when 12 white jacketed men walk into a crowded restaurant we often turn a few heads – usually ones of bemusement and anger. But we’re a social bunch, presenting a welcoming and friendly face of carnivourism, to allay fears that we might in fact be cannibal club.

Turning up unannounced and ordering all the meat on the menu does have its down sides. Especially if the required dish is in limited supply. And yes you guessed it – this happened at the Rivington. Meaning jealous looks all around to those lucky enough to get the Salt Beef until we realised we should just order a main course as a starter. Roll on sweetbreads, liver, kidney, lamp chop and the odd burger (yes there was a bit too much green on the sweetbread).

Thankfully the main main course requirement was in plentiful supply – not surprisingly – steak cooked rare. Speyside flat-iron, Aberdeenshire T-Bone and Bannockburn rib – all excellent.

Even the first distinguished JACKET made an appearance – a sign of any great Meat Club evening.

So as the evening faded to a close the flesh mob had been a clear success and a few of our fellow dinners had some added meaty spice to their own evening entertainment – dinner party anecdotes for sure.

Finally in March 2010 we kick off Meat Club off proper. To do that you need the finest animal flesh you can find and you find it at the Ginger Pig butchers, partly because the beasts are lovingly raised in Yorkshire, partly because they love their butchery. Step forward the Hawksmoor, supplied by the Ginger Pig. As some hoodlum once said “Nuff said”.

Tales of appendicitis, birthday, Pig 05409, labour and child birth to follow.

As 2009 drew to a close, Meat Club looked back at a full year of fleshness and wondered how best to celebrate the forthcoming new decade. Now Meat Club evenings are normally a Wednesday affair, but by the luck of the calendar meant the most suitable date actually fell on the birthday of an ex-presidents birthday, well the good wife of an ex-president. Now such a formality would normally be completely brushed aside, but considering the wife in question, the Lady Al had been so willing to let her Lord attend an earlier Meat Club only 2 days after the birth of their first child, compassion needed to be shown. So surprisingly this rather strange act of humanity meant Meat Club would happen on a monday evening – that coupled with the fact it was only evening we could get a booking…

Revisiting the familiar

For the first time in 2010 we had decided to revisit an old haunt. The much lauded and loved St. JOHN of St. John Street, Smithfield. Would this temple of meat deliver, would it produce the goods and welcome back its white jacketed knights to the pantheon of cooking nose to tail? For such a destination their could only be one suitable dish: Roast Suckling pig times two. For as the evenings drew to their darkest, it was time to better represent that most intelligent of beasts, the pig, albeit a dead one.

The response to attend had been supreme, with several new guests having to be uninvited. The usual in/out/shake-it-all-about behaviour on the day did raise stress levels for the President, but the evening came with a full house and expectations were understandably high.

The main attraction

The run up to Christmas is a time of celebration, where many venture out to eat and drink in recognition of the years toil, the renewal of the sun god and impending birth of the baby Jesus and his own introduction to lamb and beef. On the evening in question, 28 white knights strolled boldly into the middle of the austere, concrete lined restaurant. Seated on two long tables, we quickly quaffed our fine wine before the dried pigs liver appeared. Now liver and offal isn’t universally loved by all – for some strange reason that is difficult to comprehend – but I can report that all members of club quickly lunged in discarding the vegetables to plunder the piggy bits.

Spirits grew, as we could see our impending feast of piglets sat cooling in the kitchen. The excitement was building, as these fine beasts were transferred to our tables. Then as the knife slide into the crisp crackling and the head came off, we erupted into orgasmic carnal pleasure. PIG. The succulent juices cascaded down our chins; the soft, tender and tasty flesh, melting in our mouths. This was tasty, right proper tasty.

Now its reckoned a suckling pig can feed on average 14-15 people, with some suggesting even 17. However we’re a hungry bunch at Meat Club and after eying up the piglet, we reckon 6 of us could easily devour one. In fact the legend that is Gor tried single handedly to proove this point and while reaching an almost tantric state of elation – he ‘like never before’ almost admitted to eaten too much. [ But unlike the Monthy Python wafer thin mint man he could always manage to finish his pud. ]

As our final meat celebration of 2009, we had a few announcement to make and as each new member received their jacket and said a few words, we received a pat on the shoulder, from quite frankly a rather effete maitre’d, to perhaps keep it quiet. Now we don’t profess to be saints, or the quietest bunch, but we’re not badly behaved either. The thing is some right bankers were sat close, spending their ill gotten gains from the stock markets miraculous recovery after they had ballsed up the economy. The fact they decided to even show their faces in public is galling enough, but making a suggestion that normal, decent, hard working, carnivores should curtail their enjoyment so they can gloat about their illegal bonuses is despicable. Meat Club will be supporting a Bankers Tax and look forward to gutting a few Bankers at the next butchery course.

So feeling our own pinch due to the lack of self-awareness of a couple of right bankers, our bread pudding with butternut sauce, didn’t taste as it should. In fact the whole experience took a turn for the worst and feeling rather like scalded school boys who had done no wrong, we knew that this Temple to Meat had actually closed. This was no home coming, no resurrection or birth, it was just another restaurant cashing in on the Christmas cheer. We made the best of it, but it wasn’t the fitting end to 2009 we had all looked forward to. Goodbye St. JOHN you are no longer canonised in the Church of Flesh & Guts. From this point it will be simply known as JOHN – the refuge of bankers.

So 2010 will start with Meat Club looking for a new spiritual home, a place where we will be welcomed, appreciated and regaled. Where the finer aspects of animal husbandry, butchery, preparation and fine cooking worshipped – its members rejoicing in harmony, with offerings of meat, flesh and guts.

We look forward to where this journey will take us, and we ask you London, to step forward to reach out to the brotherhood and show your kindness, passion and welcome to the finest meat appreciation society this side of Spitalfields Market.

UPDATE: Fergus Henderson, the head chef/owner of St. JOHNS met our Australian Victoria Chapter after one their sessions and expressed delight in the activities, stating he was our number one fan. So Fergus show some meaty love and invite us back. The dressing is on your hoof now.

So far in 2010 we’d consumed beef, lamb, pork, liver, brain, pigeon, but we we’re lacking some Game Birds. Now in life in general one probably doesn’t have enough game birds, so it was crucial we addressed this.

Having missed the glorious twelfth by several months, we weren’t too far from start of the pheasant season, so after a bit of covert research, The Luxe got the job. Birds, birds, game birds was our desire.

Despite meeting Mr Thorode (the short bloke, but taller than the really short bloke from the TV) on the first official approach to host the event. He didn’t seem to recognise the majesty and reputation of the venerable Meat Club. Would he provide a banquet worthy of our best meat experiences? Would he take a visitation from London’s most esteemed restaurant appreciation society, seriously and make a personal appearance.

A fowl evening begins

So the evening came and as we assembled at the infamous Golden Hart on Commercial Road and Hanway Place as they say in NYC, for beer and red wine, expectations were high. Then at our agreed time we paced over to East London’s newest culinary destination, with a look of Vikings out to pillage a North Eastern homestead.

On arrival, we were led to the top floor, to the private dining area where two tables were decked out for the evening. Nestled between the rafters we had our own bar, service and some slightly disturbing background musical noise from the floor below. Surely a bit of four to the floor musak is bad for the digestion.

First up in our appreciation of game was the tiny Quail, which technically isn’t a British Game Bird, but is a rich tasting piece of bird, especially when stuffed with Foie Grais. Our taste buds were heightened, the flavours triggering exciting synaptic responses, the meaty textures well appreciated. With a lick of the lips and a chew on the leg bone, the starter was a success.

A fuller figure

Originally we’d asked for a mix of pheasant and grouse dishes for our mains, but due to a rush on the recently killed P-bird, or a spot of cute commercial thinking by the Luxe we were to have Grouse all-around. Now I say only, for the Grouse is a bird of majestic supremacy – such flavoursome, rich flesh – so often deliberately denied to small children as if it might upset their delicate constitutions. As we devoured our individual portions – we knew each portion was a full bird in both senses of the word. Full of flavour, full of meat, full of goodness; a steak amongst birds.

As we relaxed back into our seats for more fine wine, a look of contentment spread across everyone’s faces. We’d been able to chew on 4 tasty bits of leg so far and we were happy.

Now Meat Club is many things and among its many beneficial aspects, is that it’s educational. Our Meat Notes had listed out the British Game Birds and as we tested members at random to name a Game Bird and detail its specific characteristics, I’m proud to report we passed with flying colours.

Savoury sweet

As regular readers to these reviews will know, we like a meaty desert. Such as a slow cooked long horn fillet. So when the chef had suggested a special desert for us, we were clearly excited. A Pigeon & Parsnip Tart – when creating the menu was such an appealing thought. However when this culinary masterpiece appeared, one could clearly see a small, muscular thigh peaking out from beneath the Tarts top layer. More bird leg… fantastic.

Reclining back into ones chair, it was clear we had sampled a great selection of game bird and as a result, we were full. Full and satisfied and perhaps not wanting to see another small well formed muscular thigh on our plates for a day or two.

The LUXE: The original jacket and the chef takes a bow

As contented smiles appeared on our faces, we wondered if Mr Master Chef would congratulate us on our choice of meaty menu. But yes, he finally appeared to receive his praise having locked himself in the toilet fearing the wrath of 25 carnivores all dressed in chef’s whites holding leg bones above their heads, demanding more. How silly.

So how do you follow the amazing birthday celebration? A tough question that wasn’t so easy to resolve.

Step forward the Cattle Grid, Soho; a restaurant that prides itself on the highest quality steaks without breaking the bank. They don’t profess to have the rarest cattle, the most aged, or the world’s tastiest, but they’re very proud of what they do.

Having our moments of rather tight-fisted behaviour we decided to put this value to the test with steak-off.

After we’d blessed our newest members with crisp white jackets – they only time they’re allowed to be so. Then heard meat tales from our latest guests, which were quite frankly rather worrying, one even mentioning the v word, we decided to get stuck in to the steak challenge.

First a warm up – the Baby Back ribs. From the official source: These beauties are pre-cooked to avoid charring in a spice, beer rib stock. These are then grilled at temperature whilst being brushed with a sauce to avoid over caramelising. The sauce includes tomato, soy, garlic, wine, sake, and onion to give a sweet, tangy, spicy flavour.

They are without doubt the tastiest ribs we’ve ever tasted – take note other Soho based proprietors. We might not be surrounded by the luxury of the Boundary, we know we were on to something good with these ribs.

So on to the main course. Beef from Balymena, Ireland, purchases at the well regarded Smithfields Market and hung for 28 days. All guest were equipped with a score card, asking for a sauce of 1 to 5 for the following characteristics, leading to a total for each steak and an overall rating:

Colour
Marbling
Texture
Tenderness
Flavour

Our first bout was between rump and sirloin, two popular joints known to most households:

Rump not surprising is from the back of the cow, requiring a longer cook to guarantee tenderness. It can have poor marbling and as a result can be dry if poorly cooked. Sirloin is from the lower ribs and has better marbling. For those of an older generation its the definitive steak.

It was a close call with Rump just edging it.

Then came Rib-eye versus Fillet.

Rib-eye (also known as the cowboy steak) can be cut boned, or bone-in. Cooking on the bone helps trap juice and keep the meat moist. It tends to have good marbling, and despite often being overlooked, is hard to beat if reared and cooked well. Fillet has little fat and a cell structure that make it tender and easy to chew. Despite being the most expensive cut it requires a lot of help in the preparation and cooking to unlock its flavour.

Despite the above write up it wasn’t a slam-dunk victory, but as you might have guessed Rib-Eye came top.

Its also worth saying we also got to sample three fine sauces: Green peppercorns, blue cheese and béarnaise sauce.

Now we’re a demanding bunch and we like our meat cooked just right, a few of the steaks were well not perfectly rare. But consider 26 hungry carnivores turning up to a small kitchen and wanting those 26 steaks all served at the same time. All things considered was a cracking show.

After much spirited debate it was clear that the Rib-eye steak was coming out top, but even with all this meat we were still feeling a bit hungry. Cue another order for ribs – but unfortunately there was none left, then a request for more Rib-eye Steak. Thankfully there was enough and out it came, cooked to perfection – big lick of lips.

As is tradition with Meat Club we invite the chef out to detail his evenings creations. It was a great pleasure to meet our culinary conjurer and hear what he’d done. Receiving a grand round of applause he let it slip…. And let’s say this quietly – that he had to make an mergence call to his butcher, as we (the mightily Meat Club) had eaten them out of meat. Get in.

Then with a flutter, a small piece of paper appeared with the final amount. We’d promised the Club this would be a bargain and as we calculated the individual amount, we were all very pleasantly surprised. We had consumed a lot of quality meat and we certainly hadn’t broken the bank.

That was a fitting end to a great evening. Well done the Cattle Grid.

From the Blackberry of the fearsome M(onste)r Wells

Grass vs Grain in a meaty melee at Goodman

The atmosphere was tense in the back room of the Goodman. The lure of free booze at ‘Tig and Waterfall’s tiny suit emporium’ had proved a big attraction and our party had been a bit late arriving at our destination, harried all the way by El Pres snapping at our heels.

Once seated Dr Gill quickly brought the proceedings to order and introduced our erstwhile hosts for the evening – Head Chef John Cadieux and Restaurant Manager David Strauss.

A Canadian Chef is often a good thing when it comes to the expert grilling of beef and John did not disappoint. It was clear that this was a man who dearly loved his meat as he eulogised passionately about the virtues of his 28 day dry aged ‘product’.

Mr Strauss took to the floor and welcomed us to the establishment although he appeared to be stalling, the Butcher was coming but was running late which made David our emergency meat feast fluffer – so to speak (apologies David).

Then the curtains parted and we were bathed in the presence of the flaxen haired messiah of meat – Mr Jack O’Shea of Knightsbridge, butcher to the stars and purveyor of heavenly beef, descended from eight generations of Irish butchers, the keeper of meaty secrets…..

The wait had been worth it as Jack launched into a sermon about the near mythical qualities of his 90 day grain fed Irish rib that left some members of our party embarrassingly aroused.

The scene was set for an epic contest, in the blue corner we had the grass fed of England and in the red corner the grain fed of Ireland but like every great fight there had to be a match before the main event. On this occasion the undercard was no let down consisting as it did of a sublime chicken liver and foie gras pâté accompanied by melt in the mouth beef carpaccio.

The warm ups over, we moved on to the main event as platter after platter of immaculately grilled rib emerged from the kitchens escorted by bowls of chips, spinach for Waterfall and finally some béarnaise sauce. This was the showdown we had all been waiting for and it definitely did not disappoint. Both meats were amazing, the grain shaved the grass for me but it was a points victory and it was by no means unanimous. And it just kept on coming. Now I am a man with a healthy appetite (some say too healthy, which is why I can’t get into one of Social Suicide’s jockey tops) But even I was beaten and if there is such a thing as a meat hangover I definitely had one the next day.

After the meal we were invited to tour the kitchen by John the Chef. He showed us his incredibly hot charcoal grills, hand-built especially for Goodman, to his exacting spec. He then took us into the ageing room, a charnel house of prime rib, ageing to perfection, yet another near-spiritual experience.

With the evening all but over we returned to the dining room where Gor was deservedly presented with the Jacket for ‘carnivorousness above and beyond the call of duty’. Then while the ladies in the party had coffee and dessert, the men polished off the last of Mr O’Shea’s red wine from Bulgaria (is there nothing this man cannot do?) and contemplated a culinary ruckus that would live long in the memory of those who had witnessed it.

Pictures courtesy of ‘Gor. Words by Monster Wells.

First came Jerome K Jarome, two mates, the names of which I can’t remember without looking them up, and a dog called Montmorency. They set out to row upstream, probably from Richmond to Oxford, but again my recollection is hazy, on a trip designed to relieve them of various imagined Victorian alements from consumption to rickets but left them with piles and hypothermia. The book’s a good read and has become a bible to Thameside pubs ever since. Specifically, the Bull at Sonning.

Next came three daft commedians and a dog called Licence Fee retracing Mr Jarome’s expedition’s steps but made more “accessable” by them dropping off to see other BBC cronies along the way. A pretty good watch and entertaining in the genre of “try to forget there’s a film crew about”, they too gave up some way before Oxford because one of them had left the iron on and the other two were on the verge of ripping each others throats out. i.e. just before it got really interesting.

Well, next, there comes Meat Club – or a thinned out hard-core of proper meat eating, chest beating Amazon types – with an enhanced and fine-tuned version of the trip. Two boats, six men, no dogs and no delusions of therapy. Oh, and we’re rowing downstream not up and we’re not going to the Bull. We’re going to the Old Bell Inn at Hurley. The food’s better. In fact, it’s exceptional or should be if it’s still the chef from The Anchor and Hope – there seems to be some confusion. Either which way, we’re having a couple of slow roasted shins of lamb, starters a-la-carte, deserts from the cart and a full English in the morning.

From the Old Bell, we row through some stunning countryside to Walton. Sixteen miles and three meals a day makes for 9 gastronomic opportunities, or one every 8 miles. Now, Jarome makes no suggestions for riverside cooking, but I know that a joint of beef rubbed with olive oil and salt, wrapped in foil, chucked in the fire and eaten after a hard day’s rowing, makes your mouth cum.

Cardiac.

A little something from Presto. Worth a closer look.

From the keyboard of the extremely wordy Walter.

For some this was a bit of stretch – for many a stretch too far, but for those adventurers it was a trip well worth it to the border regions of Islington within cheering distance to Arsenalʼs old and new grounds. Not much cheering was coming from the nearby Gunners pub however as Man United sunk arsenal 1-0 that evening in the Champs League first leg.

The president had sniffed out a suitable dining establishment that promised much for us men of meat [MOM]. Before the evening the Argentine Garufa Grill had two things that would entice confidence in a regular meat club connoisseur – Argentine and Grill. It was with much chagrin that certain membersʼ absence was noted but some new feasters in Sam and Ram showing fine colours on their debut outing heartened us and made up for laggards.

I have to come clean right upfront and admit that having been to Argentina a few times I do feel it is perhaps closest to my heart [read stomach] and is the spiritual home of meat club. A combo of the best beef in the world cut and cooked in an honest way married with great meaty red wines that are smooth as they are alcoholic. A place where Chicken is offered as an option for vegetarians [I kid you not]. However I did not let my expectations run too high and had a small amount of apprehension.

The evening kicked off with an authentic and tasty beer – a brew local to Argentina of course – Quilmes – that put me right at ease. Cervecería y maltería Quilmes to give it its full title is an Argentine Brewery founded in 1888 in Quilmes, Buenos Aires Province, by Otto Bemberg, a German immigrant.

The company quickly started growing and in the 1920s it was already the most popular beer in Buenos Aires. Since then, it has become something of a national symbol, and has 75% of the beer market share in Argentina. It sponsors the Argentina national football team, and the colours of its labels are Argentina’s light blue and white. One fine member summed up the beers pleasure by saying Quilmes tasted like Spanish quim. Charmingly accurate.

Our appetites were piqued and our gullets ready for fayre – a veal tonne to boot things off – tasty tender with a creamy accompaniment to line the stomach no doubt and seal in the meat moment.

Then a small side dished slipped in and what better to carry on the meal than what can be described as the national dish – as much at heart to an Argie as Maradona – the empanada.

Argentine empanadas are often served at parties as a starter or main course, or in festivals. Shops specialize in freshly-made empanadas, with many flavours and fillings. The dough is usually of wheat flour and lard with fillings differing from province to province: in some it is mainly chicken in others beef (cubed or ground depending on the region), perhaps spiced with cumin and paprika, while others include onion, boiled egg, olives, or raisons.

Empanadas can be baked (more common in restaurants and cities) or fried (more common in rural areas and at festivals). They may also contain ham, fish, humita (sweet corn with white sauce) or spinach [for Snr. Waterfall]. Empanadas of the interior regions can be spiced with peppers.

We sampled ground beef of course on this occasion – my only gripe was there was too few to truly get to understand this famous Argentine staple and they were not on par with those Iʼve had in Buenos Aires. After his marvellous mince pies last xmas, a recipe here for the Little Chef to try out and bring to a meat club in the future.

Although hard to decline more beers, they were dispensed with ease and replaced with our first bottles of some red nectar – Santa Rosa, Tempranillo 2007 – a quaffable brew that was rich and smooth and bloody.

So with our stomachs now fully open, our mouths expectant and the sizzle in our ears the main course was served. The Parrillada Garufa consisted of a veritable butchers shop of cuts featuring in no particular order: Argentine Sirloin Steak, Fillet Steak, Rump Steak, Rib eye Steak, Sausage & Black Pudding (morcilla) with some Papas Fritas a la Provenza apparently on the side [which I have to admit I did not notice for all the cow in front of me]. No doubt had Waterfall been there the chips would have been consumed in greater numbers. And for that thought alone he surely won the Waterfall Award with ease again this month despite his continued absence.

To those who donʼt know a parrillada is the Argentine grill the meat is cooked on – the BBQ itself is known as Asado – which if you are ever invited to one or offered one by an true Argentine – NEVER turn this ritual down!

The asado is usually placed in a tray to be immediately served, but it can also be placed on a brasero right on the table to keep the meat warm. Us lucky MOM had it served on the brasero – who needs plates!

To accompany this sizzling platter and wash down our lovely lumps of flesh was one of my favourite grape varieties the Malbec. A Norton, Malbec 2007, to be precise and its gutsy nature more than met the meats requirements. Now a mini wine lesson on the Malbec or Cahor grapes that tend to have an inky dark color and robust tannins: Long known as one of the six grapes allowed in the blend of red Bordeaux wine, the French plantations of Malbec are now found primarily in Cahors in the SW France region where they hail. However it is increasingly celebrated as an Argentine varietal wine and celebrated for its particular plum-like flavor component to add complexity to the clarets. While acreage of Malbec is declining in France, in Argentine the grape is surging and has become a “national variety” of sort that is uniquely identified with wine of that great country.

So how good was the meat? That sire was surely excellent by quality – the range of cuts and textures pleasing. I would have liked to have seen more off the bone options that I have only seen in Argentina but perhaps I am splitting cows tails here as the offering was plentiful and our stomach were feed well that evening. For those who are interested [and you all should be] see here.

Some were better fed than others – its must be said. The Gore must add to his weight at each meat club quite considerably, but this time I can honestly say he walked out at least double his normal weight for the amount of steak he packed away. Impressive. And as ever he always leads the charge for dessert. Gore set about his ice cream like a hungry man [Iʼd hate to have seen the damage to his toilet after this meal]. Again, impressive beast. This time it was Dulce de lecce flavour – another Argentine favourite also know as “milk jam”, a milk-based sauce found as both a syrup and a caramel candy. It is prepared by slowly heating sweetened milk to create a product that is vaguely similar in taste to caramel. It is also the basis for the elaboration of many sweets and desserts, which form part of the classics of the Argentine cuisine.

But what made the evening top for me was the stupendous arrival of the amazing, delicious and Malamado Malbec 2004 fortified wine from the Familia Zuccardi Winery found in the Mendoza region. Just knock out. Jonathan Ray, Daily Telegraph, 21 March 2008 said of the marvel: This wine is completely new to me and I think it’s an absolute belter, a real curiosity and exceptionally well made. It is smooth and supple, with buckets of ripe fruit and even subtle hints of chocolate.

Bottles have been ordered and those will be picked up at the next meat club – my juices are flowing already! More info here

And you can get some from here among other stockists: Yorkshire Wine Company

Lastly there was even some yerba mate – drink flying around which is truly, truly Argentine. The infusion called maté is prepared by steeping dry leaves (and twigs) of yerba maté in hot water, rather than in boiling water like black tea. Drinking maté with friends from a shared hollow gourd (also called a maté or guampa) with a metal straw (bombilla) is a common social practice in Argentina. What is it like – having has it over there I personally find it very bitter and a bit too grassy – which is too close to vegetables so I passed!

For my Argentine connections and position as foreign minister for Meat Club the president asked me to give a small speech, which I duly delivered. For this it seemed I was bestowed the honour of wining both the meat club and review Jackets and a guaranteed appearance at the next club meet!

So did it live up to the owners sales pitch – recapped here: “Garufa is a new Argentine restaurant serving a premium selection of meat and wines carefully sourced from Argentina. We complement that with a good selection of vegetarian options and the finest ingredients from local producers to bring the best of Argentine food and Culture to your table.”

Largely the meat and Malamado Malbec won it for me. I was relieved that the ʻvegetarian optionsʼ were not offered! Iʼd like to see more of the famous Argentine boasting, pride and welcome next time but the spread of goods and authentic nature of them was impressive. The Gauchos from the Pampas would surely approve and Iʼd be with them on that.

THE MENU
Veal Tonné
Beef Empanada
Parrillada Garufa [Argentine Sirloin Steak, Fillet Steak, Rump Steak, Ribeye Steak, Sausage & Black Pudding]
Papas Fritas a la Provenza
Santa Rosa, Tempranillo 2007, Argentina
Norton, Malbec 2007, Argentina
Malamado, Malbec, Argentina fortified wine by Zucardi

Original PDF version available here. 2.9MB