MeatBlog

A temporary review while the Dumont, the Prince of Luxembourg gets his arse into gear.

It was a warm summer’s evening and after persistant asking, the A&H finally let us bring Meat Club to the their wonderful eatery. Not having a strict reservation time meant more pre-meal drinks while we were tempted by the gorgeous smells emanating from the kitchen. After much dribbling we were escorted to our table by a rather fierce lady (she was a strapping lass).

Sat in a corner away from all the polite guests, 13 blokes waited for the beef to come. Our palettes were salivating from our starter, a delicious terrine (or that what I thought they called it…). We had also been tempted with salad – much to our disgust, but this is summer and we were starving – I won’t blow the whistle on who had green – you know who you are!

Then out if came; 8 hours of slow cooked cows arse. Wheeled out on a very large trolley, creaking from the sheer weight of flesh. This was the largest piece of beef I had ever seen. A view echoed by my illustrious colleagues. We’ll never eat that! Oh yes we did.

Out initial attempts to reduce the beef mountain were quite frankly pathetic. Wafer thin slices might be the order of the day when you’re serving the mother in-law from Surrey, but doing damage to a gargantuan piece of red meat requires decisive action. Step up the Roope, armed with a member that would scare Rambo he cut of slabs not slices. In case your wondering what that meant, think of the largest steak you have ever seen in area multipled by 1 inch think – and you got two of them. This was juicy, red meat slow cooked to perfection. Don’t asked me what came with it – it might have been chips – BUT we only cared about the meat.

After our blood thirsty goring and shouts of Chef (initially for our own esteemed member, the right honourable little one) the maestro appeared to much applause, where he proceeded to inform us of the beast credentials. An organically fed number from some beautiful fielded part of this fair isle, cooked at 90 degrees for 3 hours, then at 50 for a further 5. Now whoever said good things come to those who wait was right…. Nothing was left. Hurrah team well eaten.

Much malarky ensued into the barmy summers evening. It had been another great meat club, we all left feeling very well fed and watered.

Now I’m not known for being a fat lad – but that night my weight shot up by 1/2 stonne. I felt pregnant. But like all good mothers – i was proud of my little belly for it had a valuable cargo. And yes like child birth, delivery would have been easier with a epidural.

The Big Chill, for many the best of the current English music festivals can prove a tough time for the meat eater. Hidden amongst the abundance of falafel and v*g*n options was a wonderfully carnivorous Pure Pie stall. Its lamb, pork and beef pies provided a tasty sustinance in between the electronic chill out ambience and the endless drinking. To my pleasant surprise I found out that Pure Pie wasn’t just located in the beautiful Malvern Hills, but it also has a stall at London Bridge. So if you are dying for the taste of some warm, moist pie, head on down – you won’t be disappointed.

I have just checked their site – SHOCK HORROR – they are also selling v*gg*e pies. If it suggests a butternut squash something take it as a weird sexual position or ignore and wait for meat.