MeatBlog

29th Feb 2012

A fabulous little establishment in the crux of Essex Road and Upper Street in Islington (in the old S&M place), tastefully decked-out in an eclectic mix of pie & mash tiles, cafe stainless steel, Scandinavian panelling and 60s print wallpaper. Not as busy as it should have been upon our arrival, it instantly became quite crowded as we elbowed ourselves into occupying a full half of the restaurant. I’d speculate that the lack of patronage may be due to the chef’s almost ruinous distain for salt, perhaps that the food was not salty enough, or it could be that almost every dish needed a little more salt. I know that sodium chloride is the current pariah of dietary health but when one is indulging in already cardiac-arresting red meats and saturated fats one might, at least, enjoy them.

Otherwise, they did us proud with the menu: a smorgasbord of meatiness veering between guaranteed favourites and slightly off-piste I-ought-to-order-that-more-oftens; the staff were delightful and didn’t seem to tire of being so, even after our 20th bottle of wine; the sweetbreads* and springbok were spectacular; and the prices very reasonable.

All in all good, but use the salt shaker.

Meat People, 4-6 Essex Road, London N1 8LN
020 7359 5361
www.meatpeople.co.uk

An aside note to the proprietors: Your site lists your phone number as “0207″ 359 5361. This is a one of those bugbears that drives me to disproportionate apoplexy. The “7″ is part of the phone number and not the area code – if one wants to call the restaurant from within London, one would need to dial 7359 5361 not 359 5361… And it’s not just you, it’s bloody everywhere. I can’t understand how a first-world educated population of such a broad cosmopolitan city can demonstrate such obtuse parochiality. Also, with an indifference to modern navigation, you don’t have your postal code on your website. You instead refer to “… just off Islington green”. With a lower case “G”.

* And – before I get off my horse – “sweetbreads” is one word, not two. I was expecting fried brioche…

Tig x

Following on from a busy 2009, 2010 held many surprises and treats. A indubitable feast of flesh

January
A month off

February
The Hope & Sir Loin, Smithfield (Breakfast)

March
Hawksmoor, Spitalfields

April
Boisdale, Bishopsgate

May
Ninety9, Way out east

June
Roast, Borough Market (Breakfast)

July
Rivington Arms, Shoreditch (Fleshmob)

August
The Harwood Arms, Fulham

September
Paternoster Chop House, St Pauls (Gorival)

October
A La Cruz, Farringdon

November
Boisdale, Bishopsgate (Breakfast)

December
Bistroteque, Hackney

Once a year it’s Christmas and here at meat club we need to celebrate it, in the best way possible. Now with such expectation can come disappointment, you know, the way you used to think a party or gig would be the best ever, for it to never hit the heights.

So after some courting, and input from an inside source we managed to get our date with the Bistrotheque and their special private room. Such a treat for the festive season. If you haven’t been to Bistrotheque you have a missed a treat, you really have. It’s in East London, nestled in the factories, just off the Hackney Road in a New York style warehouse. Finding it can be a challenge and it’s very easy to drive past.

Back to the meat

To start we had their excellent Steak Tartare, it’s something Bistrotheque is proud of and rightly so. It was made from Long Horn Scottish rump. Very very tasty.

For our next set of courses, our chef Tom Collins and Shaun decided to go a off menu and serve up two Hoggets. Cue a brief explanation of what a Hogget actually  is and how it relates to a lamb and a mutton:

• Lamb — a young sheep under 12 months of age which does not have any permanent incisor teeth in wear.
• Hogget — a young male sheep or maiden ewe having no more than two permanent incisors in wear.
• Mutton — a female (ewe) or castrated male (wether) sheep having more than two permanent incisors in wear.

Our hoggets were 18 month old Black Face hoggets from a farm called Fooks Bros in Dorset. They are known for their meat being tender and relatively mild even when the sheep are approaching mutton age. A key factor in choosing older meat.

The hoggets were served in a selection of cuts & dishes (see above). The pressed belly was incredible, in fact it was so good I’m sure it should be illegal. The confit shoulder was a thing to behold, and probably the best piece of lamb I have ever eaten – tender beyond belief. The leg was gargantuan and carnal, great for attacking with your teeth. And the kidney pie was fantastic, with its quality pastry be eulogized by many a member.

Then came the desert – a cheese called Beenleigh Blue. It’s a sheeps cheese made in Sharpham Barton in Devon and has a salty, full, rich and sweet flavor. It is often said to have a similarity in taste to a fino sherry.

As the evening drew on, our 33 members and guests became full of Christmas cheer and joyful noise. Only once where was asked to perhaps lower the volume which at that point was a fair call. For we had the passing of the Chef’s Knife – a beautiful piece of hand engineered metallurgy with 101 layers of folded forged nickel stainless steel. Yes its very sharp.

And so with that, came to the end of my Presidency of London’s greatest dining and meat appreciation club. Thank you Bistrotheque for hosting a great evening and thank you Meat Club for some amazing memories.

In 2010 Meat Club redefined the Breakfast. When I say redefined I really mean took it by the scruff of the neck, gave it a good shake and then created something that should be rated quadruple X and carry a Government Health warning.

First came Roast with what was described as Top Kill for your Arteries and was immense, so when the call went out to the Boisdale Of Bishopsgate they were understandably worried about how they could compete.

But oh they did compete. Take a look:

Yes that’s for breakfast, all before 9am and yes it’s a lot. So any of you city boys are wanting a marvelous breakfast in the City Mile – i’d suggest you do some polite groveling to the Manager, ask nicely and get yourselves some of this.

The starter if you can call it that for a Breakfast, of oysters, haggis and a bloody Mary was delightful. Enough for any man to start the day.

BUT and its a big but, because this is what came next, for each person. The plates are huge, make no mistake this is a lot of food. Click to view and its full glory.

The bone marrow fritter was divine, the bavette a treat, the black pudding amazing, the scotch egg scintillating. The galloon of orange juice to wash it down was very necessary. I think we might have been a little slow that day…

No wonder those large Scottish chaps can toss the caber if they’re eating this before a highland games. Immense.

So much for German efficiency.

You see Herr Flade, a relatively new comer to Meat Club was tasked with writing this review. Even though he threatened to write it in German following the abuse he received for not finishing his meat. He has still not managed to complete it (Feb 2011), so you’ll have to make do with this short resume from me.

Meat Club takes time, and that’s something I’ve not always had lots of. So it can be a bit of a concern when you do things via phone and email rather than face-to-face when pulling the plans together. So when 18 carnivores turn up brandishing their meat notes it’s a bit of stress when the restaurant hasn’t seen them despite sending them through days before on email.

Despite an initial panic on both sides, the food was quickly served and enjoyed. I have to say their sausages and black pudding are something else. Very very tasty.

Once our meat urges had been sated with the quality fare we went for a tour of the Asador (the big open wooden stove) with some cooking advice from Chef included.

To finish and as a mark of respect to our Gor Gor, we had sorbet. It seemed the right thing to do. Ooh and we text bombed him to which he was most pleased, addressing my good self in his reply as El Presicunte. Tony D was less poetic, simply replying a few days later from his sick bed.

Further proof that we continue to eat quality meat in between Meat Club’s can be evidenced by this little feast at the excellent Maze Grill. We’ve been here before thanks to the connections of Remy TV and sampled a selection of their fine steaks. So this visit was to stock up on tasty flavours and remind ourselves just how good their beef is.

Prior to eating you are shown the meat. Awesome. A quick test of which cut is which, resulted in a 3 out of 5 score for this meat club member, which isn’t really good enough. Must try harder next time.

To begin there was a cheeky little starter – a meaty taste to wet the main appetite. A Terrine of confit duck, ham hock and foie gras which was the the perfect way to commence.

Then came the steak.

If you have never been to Maze Grill you must try the Wagyu ‘9th grade’ Gold style – it has such a distinct taste. The fat is just something else, and something to truly behold. It’s not cheap but this is 9th Grade (the Japanese only export 5th grade and below) so it’s very good gear. Super tasty.

Our other steak was the Creekstone prime U.S.D.A. corn fed, aged 35 days – which isn’t quite as distinct as the Wagyu but is very good. In fact I’m licking my lips just thinking about how good it was.

And of course it ended with a clean block. Loving washed down with an amazing Red, hand picked by our Sommelier.

You might think that when we’re not attending Meat Club, we’re out eating meet. Well you’d be right.

For reasons too secret or dull to mention here, I with a few other meat lovers went to the Hix for a bit of Tuesday feasting. Although some sea food and vegetable was consumed – we did heartily indulge in some tasty marrow, a pocket sized suckling pig and several chops & steaks.

The pig was tasty and not wanting to waste anything a good chunk of the brain & the whole tongue went too. At the end there was a pile of clean bones – a sure sign of a successful meaty evening.

Thank you Tommy.

A bitter sweet affair. Gor Going Gone was the bitter… fruit engorged Middle White pork the sweet. And sweeeeeeeeeeet it was… oh god yes.

Lets deal with the food first. Now this chophouse is a fine establishment indeed and they treated us brilliantly, but it’s hard to ignore it’s location in the centre of what much of the world believes is the new axes of evil. We even learnt of the network of tunnels under Paternoster, presumably for the hedge fund bastards to reach their underground monorails which turn into submarines when hitting the Thames as they escape the imploding world. Too far…? Shall I just focus on the meat? Oh, OK.

We had the rare task of choosing starters, the steak Tartare was the obvious Meat Club choice and good it was (I nicked some off Dave B’s plate – cheers mate, and no it doesn’t make us gay). The roughly cracked egg shell holding the single yolk a thing of beauty in the centre of the meat circle of delicious raw cowflesh. I had the pigeon breast. Good but bloodless.

Then came the Sow. Oh blessed animal which lived off fallen fruit in Englands finest groves purely so it could be slaughtered and bled dry for our greedy pleasure. I’m so glad it did. The quantity might not have been perfect for the send off of Gor (did he have 3 plates of it lined up?) but the crackling was cracking and the fat was… phat. Truly lovely.

There was decent wine (the Italian was the choice…Aussie Merlot people!),and couple of bottles of Grahams Port went down nicely. The underground meatvaults got for juices flowing nicely, especially the look inside a couple of 200 litre stock pots which bubble day and night to make fine meat sauces. I want one. No, two. The highlight for me was when Chef mentioned that they have the occaisional spit roast in the meatlocker. I think he learnt that such phrases can’t be used with impunity in front of a meat men crowd.

There was a first timer amongst us.: Pete Potrella is welcome… but his unwillingness to eat the fatty portions of his pork (WTF!!!???) was slightly worrying. I think he needs a guiding hand as he makes his journey to jackethood.

The Simon Waterfall award went, quite rightly, to Simon Waterfall. Once again he was not present and probably lying naked in a lettuce field with his salad club flagellating him with leaves of Chard. The Jacket of honour went to the splendidly Bearded (he has stuck resolutely while so many in the club haven’t) Matt Wells. This was for finding a glazed breakfast for Gor to take to America to show them how it should be done. Well played sir, well played.

So to Gor himself. We are hardy Men of Meat, who have little time or sympathy for high emotion (it distracts us from the business of eating fleash) but every one of us felt a twinge as Gor bid his farewell. I get the impression that he lives meat 24/7. In many ways we all aspire on our monthly sojourns to be Gor. We will always be mere shadows of his status as the Viking of Beef. His speech was short but perfect: ‘The meat club was always about good meat in good company’. We will miss yours. We, who are about to gorge, salute you.

ED R

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.

A few months ago the good proprietor of Roast (Borough market) offered a special breakfast his chef had cooked up. We are no strangers to Roast , who had given us a superlative 4th Birthday a few years ago, complete with a rendition of that meaty musical classic “I’m a sausage man“. So we knew this would be special. Not one to duck a challenge, we accepted. Our youthful zeal on what was an excellent sunny morning, held no foretelling of what was to come.

The first item alone was enough to fuel you for a day, believe.

And then several platters of this turn up, lovingly cooked with British Dripping, you know you have a MEAT FEAST. And it was even 8:30 in the morning.

Put simply it was and I quote:

Out of control

Top kill for your arteries

Artery damage. Thank you for my heart attack

Surely there is no greater salute to Meat Club’s higher purpose than booking an appointment for a cholesterol check après le repas.  Today I made that booking, and I make that salute!

That bacon steak was frankly out of control.

In future I will be approaching bacon steak meat challenges with the trepidation they deserve.  Five pints of water later, I’m still thirsty.

Phenomenal carnage this morning! The saddle back bacon was a feast in itself. I & my ruined gastrointestinal tract salute you Roast!

The whole event had been filmed by a Canadian TV Channel wanting to know what a real English Breakfast was – they certainly found out.