Good Day Friends. Happy Holy Week!
I took my daughter to the Goodman Mayfair restaurant for her Birthday dinner last week. I have yet to write my review as I'm struggling to find a fair balance in how I wish to present the experience. Without a doubt the American Steak I ordered was among the best I've had in the past ten years in the UK. (I've had plenty of great steaks in other parts of the world, but I want to be a bit pedantic today).
The challenge we faced with Goodman is there were other dishes we ordered, which I can only describe as incredibly disappointing. Yet I wish to be fair to the overall experience without leaving the restaurant feeling as if I were pummelling them unjustly.
My prevailing question is one that remains in perpetuity - how can americans eat such copious amounts? I ordered the smallest Rib Eye Goodman had on offer and still they had to bring it to me on a lead! My daughter called it the 'colon cracker'
Yet, after enjoying this sumptuous delectable piece of beef I find myself rather selfishly craving more!
Of course I brought what I couldn't consume at the table home with me. I was forced to buy it a ticket on Southern Rail. But I can't complain. It was worth it and currently the remaining bone has become best friends with the Venerable Mr. Piddles - our Jack Russell. The bone has been teaching the dog how to do new tricks.
But here's my clincher...selfish clergyman that I am...does anyone know which, if any, butchers sell US beef in Central London? I'd love to have a Rib Eye party in the next couple of weeks...
As a distant second, I suppose Argentinian Rib Eyes taste somewhat similar. This is not to denigrate lovely Scottish, Irish or British beef, it's just that I want something DIFFERENT! I could hop on the Eurostar and go raid the butchers at the Lille shopping centre, but I'm feeling quite lazy and sluggish. (just as with the steak - 'this too shall pass.' )
For now, I still love heading off to Wolfe's on Great Queen Street for my favourite daytime beef. I can cover both Japan and the US when I'm there. But they've steadfastly refused to sell me a raw slab to take home...how sad...after thirty-five years of patronage and they're still calling me eccentric! The scallywags!