A couple of weeks ago before the wife went on a “work trip” to Venezuela and before I started my new job in sunny Clapham, we kind of had a celebration by having lunch at Hawksmoor at the Guildhall.
It had been quite a while since we’d had a good steak that was memorable, and we both felt we were long overdue another one.
I’m not sure why I chose this one over the Shoreditch branch, but I think it was the rave reviews that J had given me about the breakfast he had there with Stevie P one morning, and plus door to door by one bus. Sorted it.
I kinda knew that a midweek lunch here would be full of suited city types enjoying an expenses fuelled meal, and yes it was. Quite a few of them as well, eating the biggest steaks, drinking the most expensive wines all paid for by their companies. Lucky people.
I understand why restaurants fill their ranks with sweet young hipsters, it’s good business sense, but I hate the fact that it makes me feel older and older, the young lass who showed us to our table must have been all of 18 skipping along all tattooed up.
We knew what we were coming here for, so ordering was straightforward enough. I was tempted to order the fillet, not that I ever do, and I cannot remember the last time I had one. I remember cooking myself one when I was doing nights in the kitchen at Café Boheme, but that was a few years ago now. But I was tempted to taste one again.
For me the rump is where the flavour is and the fillet is just melt in the mouth tender goodness. But I was curious to see how and if Hawksmoor can make me feel I had been missing out on something.
In the end I decided not, and ordered the sirloin on the bone and the wife had the rump. Both medium rare as was pointed out by our waitress who went into annoying detail about the different cuts of meat Hawksmoor had on that day.
A portion of triple cooked chips and another of chips cooked in beef dripping were ordered with the obligatory side salad. I love the Argentinean way of eating meat with a simple tomato and onion salad on the side, the Hawksmoor was lettuce and herb, a fine and dandy salad it was as well.
Well what can we say, both the rump and sirloin tasted so damn good. The rump had bags more flavour that the sirloin, but that’s to be expected, being a cut doing slightly more work in the living animal.
The only gripe about the sirloin was the uneven cooking, the part closest to the bone was rare and then slowly went medium rare as it went out. Slightly disappointed but I like my meat rare to medium rare so I wasn’t really bothered. I did however want to pick the bone up and gnaw at it, in any other restaurant I probably would have, but here in the Guildhall for some reason I showed restraint.
The triple cooked chips were as I remembered them. Awesome. The chips in beef dripping were little crispy nuggets of pure heaven, more roasties than chips, but ohh did that beef dripping, damn reminded me of the roasties we used to have as a kid when everything was cooked in dripping. Yeah long before dripping and lard become big no no’s. Bloody California and its health crazes. They came with a pot of fiery horseradish, which cleared the nasal passages a treat. The Bernaise was sharp and lush, as good as I make it back in the day.
We were offered dessert and it was turned down, but I did have a glass of Cognac to wash it all down.
I think for a blowout like this, a slow afternoon of eating and drinking good food and good wine is the perfect way to enjoy oneself. Plus we were in a celebratory mood, which made it all the better.
I love Hawksmoor and all they do, especially their damn fine kick ass breakfasts. I love them so much that I’m off their again next week for more steak with the boys.