Goodman: A near religious experience
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.