★[REVIEW] Gaucho / Smithfield’s / Challenging Chutney
It’s safe to say, Gaucho is not for the likes of us.
We are in Smithfield on a Friday lunchtime a few weeks before Christmas. We’ve tried two lunch venues already. We didn’t make enough of a plan. We stumble into Gaucho, fumbling around in the dark, bouncing off white pleather chairs and girls in Little Black Dresses.
The black mirrored surfaces, the waitresses dressed like Robert Palmer’s backing band, the all too self-aware cowhide chairs, the ambient funky house soundtrack. It’s the Hollister of steakhouses. It’s not our scene. Our backs are up as soon as we walk in. Gaucho used to think itself a Big Deal before the relatively recent London steakhouse revival. They are now everywhere.
After negotiating the razor thin menus and pissing off our secretary waitress by only ordering one course and no wine, we wonder whether Gaucho might trump our low expectations.
A good twenty minutes later, the burgers turn up and Rob is all like WTF.
They are presented open, but everything is in the burger - there’s no need to add condiments or anything.
Actually, there are no condiments to be seen. So why present it open? Perhaps to make the meagre specimen take up more space on the gargantuan plate it’s served on. It highlighted how pathetically small the burger was compared to the bun and, in Rob’s case, how skilled the chef is at putting a thick black layer of burn on the top side of his patty. It was got-too-engrossed-chatting-about-golf-at-the-barbecue burnt.
There are several heinous crimes being committed here. Let’s take a closer look:
Cheese
It looked and felt like something you’d get in a kid’s My Fisher Price Bistro set. Plastic that had been sprayed with cheese flavour. It didn’t melt. It just got a bit sweaty and uncomfortable. It’s called Dansglad cheddar. It’s either Danish, or has been invented by those Gaucho bastards since that’s all Google will tell us.
Chutney
Always a worry. Here, it’s been used as a relish replacement and apparently had chipotle in it. No noticeable smokiness to it, just unpleasant gagging sweetness that refuses to go away. In fact, we had to go to the excellent Dose Espresso across the market to get rid of the aftertaste.
The Meat
Four cuts! Four! All four that they have!
It makes it sound like they’ve scraped up the off-cuts from the kitchen floor. Unfortunately we can’t comment on its quality because it had not been seasoned at all, it had been burnt and our palates were devastated by the aforementioned chutney.
The big problem here is the apparent inability to cook. Any average piece of beef can be dressed up to look posher than it really is, so one can only imagine what they might do to a £30 ribeye.
The Price
Sixteen pounds. It would’ve been more worthwhile investing it in Northern Rock two years ago.
Gaucho is not cheap. This is right up there for London spendy burgers. Our bill overall came to £50, which included two flat diet Cokes, two small baskets of (admittedly quite nice) chips and service.
Our visit to Gaucho was penance for not being organised enough to book anywhere else in Smithfield’s on a Friday lunchtime, and you can’t help but feel it’s only there to serve the Torodean overflow from down the road.
Deplorable.
- Simon & Rob.
[REVIEW] Porter Powerhouse / Goodman City
What makes it sting less is how good the experience is…
I stumbled into the Mayfair Goodman with the good lady completely by accident a few months ago. We had in fact been making our way across the West End to Byron, to try out the celebrated nuclear cheese version of their burgers, as requested by me and dozens of others.
Goodman was just right there. And had burgers. And we’d just purchased an enormous skillet from John Lewis and I was trying to not kneecap passing tourists with it.
It was a welcome, tobacco-coloured stop, where we had a very serviceable burger (not as drippy as I’d been led to believe) and a really quite jaw dropping beef carpaccio.
Fast forward to August and the new cunningly-placed Bank branch is running a three day soft launch. It’s an address that will ensure generations of long boozy banker lunches and the wine list has been knowingly selected to match the expenses drubbing it will no doubt be fuelling. It was a simple visit, especially when we had to pass on the full steak experience previously.
I’m a huge fan of the upmarket steakhouse. It’s an American export that is wholly welcome in London, where our steak has been bland and tasteless for too long. And it really helps showcase some of the stunning meat available in the capital. Hawksmoor’s Ginger Pig partnership springs to mind. We’re in a new era of local rock star butchery, and this new breed of steakhouse is the venue
The key elements that make Goodman really good fun are all in the detail. The servers wear chef’s whites. It gives the unconscious illusion that they might be the one actually grilling the cut you choose from the selection tray. The tray itself is a masterstroke. I don’t think I’d ever order fillet steak normally, but the fact we could see just how marbled the fillet actually was is a huge selling point. It also gives you a visual guide as to what you can expect. I still struggle to think of beef metrically.
Everything is branded. The entire room and everything in it has been given a great deal of thought. The knives. The tap water bottle. The plates. The waiting staff. It’s not subtle, but it’s pretty and it’s tasteful.
They don’t skimp on portions. Sure, you pay for it, but just the fact you can order a 900g USDA porterhouse is immensely satisfying. The meat is impeccably cooked, provided you give enough detail when ordering (medium rare, but the rarer side of medium, not blue please). It’s well seasoned. The bearnaise has enough bite to it and doesn’t congeal too quickly. The stilton sauce is a richly reduced gravy, a country mile away from the gelatinous cheese sauce you’d expect otherwise. It all goes together brilliantly.
The accompaniments are, like the meat, flawless. The truffle chips are crisp and fluffy, the mushrooms are doused in just enough garlic butter and the tomato salad actually has some really quality tomatoes in it. And a good tomato can be very hard to find.
The only thing to really bring up is money. I’ve had a fair few discussions with beef fans who declare, with good reason, that they could just as easily go to O’Shea’s or the Ginger Pig or Allen’s of Mayfair and buy their own T-bone, rib eye or Porterhouse, take it home and grill it there. It’s a very good point. Steak isn’t hard to cook properly.
Even with 50% off food it was still nudging £45 a head for a single course, some shared sides, a cocktail and a glass of Malbec (our desserts were comped due to a spot of inadvertent menu proof reading). It would have been £70 on a normal day. What makes it sting less is how good the experience is, but it’s priced for special occasion, and do you just want a steak when you’re paying that much money?
Therefore I think Goodman falls squarely into the ‘awesome if on somebody else’s expenses’ bracket. Or just keep going back for the burger. At £12 it’s the star buy.
Full set of photos available on flickr
Goodman - Bank Bookings via their website £70 for steak, some sides and just about enough booze
