DINE WITH DOS HERMANOS: A GOODMAN/ O'SHEA/HERDERMAN/WRIGHT BROS JOINT

It all started out as a vague thought in my head as I spent a lazy afternoon in Los Angeles wistfully pondering on all the things I missed most about living in London. There were enough things on the list to fill a sizeable pamphlet including a decent pint and a pork pie. However, very near the top of the pile were the words

“A proper Sunday lunch”

As they do for so many in the UK, a traditional Sunday lunch takes on an almost mythical status when it comes to the favourite dining experiences of Dos Hermanos. When I called London home, few weekends passed without one of DH slamming a large joint of meat in the oven to be accompanied when ready, with heaving plates of vegetables and serenaded by the music of plopping corks.

Lord how I missed a proper Sunday lunch.

My mind also turned to thoughts of “Dine With Dos Hermanos”, our now legendary series of dining events created for no other purpose than to bring large groups of people together to have a damn good time at damn good restaurants. In the five years since they were no more than a twinkle in our eye, they have grown from occasions involving a handful of people to ones that now attract hundreds of requests for tickets.

I knew I was due back in London for a week or so in June and decided, in an all too rare bout of genius, to combine one with the other. However, if we were going to put the DWDH moniker on the Sunday lunch, it could not just be any Sunday lunch, it had to be THE BEST SUNDAY LUNCH EVER.

It was a bold attempt and I knew it would take a special kind of restaurant to make it happen. I shot off an e-mail to the one person I knew would be up to the task, David Strauss of Goodman Steakhouse, without doubt the best GM in the capital. He responded immediately and positively, his only caveat being that if he was going to open the restaurant on a Sunday we would have to promise to fill it.

We were talking about 75+ places here folks and, although the previous events have been a success, this was a huge leap up both in ambition and numbers. But, faint heart never won a fair meal, so I set about using my limited social media skills and the latest DWDH was soon announced on Facebook, Twitter and the blog. I expected a strong response but, nowhere near the deluge of e-mails that began to flood in minutes after the event was announced.

In all we received nearly 750 requests for tickets. Easily the largest response we have ever experienced. There was only one thing for it and that was to write all the names down and pick them from a hat. It seemed the most fair way and I can only apologies to those whose names were not selected.

Between the announcement and the big day, David Strauss and John Cadieux of Goodman went to work talking to their suppliers. If you are going to have the best Sunday lunch, ever, you are going to need the best ingredients and they did not let me or the lucky attendees down.

When I arrived shortly before the event was due to start, the director of Wright Brothers was busy shucking fresh and meaty Maldon Oysters to welcome people as they arrived. Not a bad way to start the meal and even better with an accompanying glass of Prosecco or a strong Bloody Mary.

Next up, as we took our seats, the fantastic staff of Goodman, who had come in on a day when the restaurant is normally closed, began to place large plates of smoked salmon and smoked eel on each of the table. One glimpse at the picture of thick strips of densely coloured salmon will tell you that this is no ordinary fish and indeed as it was described to us by its producer, the incomparable Frank Herderman, the rich, creamy flesh with its light salt cure and subtle smoky flavour was even more appreciated.

Then it was on to the main event and John and his team of willing chefs carried up colossal joints of beef, legs of lamb and shoulders of pork to be received with awe by the crowd before being sliced up into huge chunks to be served family style. I have always loved the beef from O’Shea, but DH have long been telling people just how astonishingly good his piggy flesh is too, Well, those who were with us today will need no further convincing. The lamb too was described to me more than once as a “revelation” and all of the joints had been cooked to perfection in Goodman’s Josper Grills.

As large plates carrying slabs of meat were placed on each table, so too were bowls of creamy cauliflower cheese, roasted carrots, roast potatoes and of course, teetering mounds of glistening Yorkshire puddings. From the noises coming from each table it appeared as if the DH attempt to make this the best Sunday lunch ever might just be accomplished, particularly as the staff made sure that every glass was topped off every time it looked like someone had taken a sip.

After the main course, of course, comes pudding and special praise must go to whoever was in charge of the Sherry trifle making duties. There were no mere trifles, filled as they were with sharp, fresh berries and topped off with cream and toasted almonds. I heard more than one person (including, I believe Hermano Primero) utter the words “I don’t usually like trifle” before plunging the serving spoon deep into the bowls for yet one more helping.

Add this to a final gut busting plate of cheese and a snifter of Marsala wine and all I can say is that if this wasn’t the best Sunday lunch of all times, I bloody hope to be invited to the one that is.

Huge thanks must be shouted out from Dos Hermanos to everyone who made this remarkable event possible.

To David Strauss and John Cadieux for their efforts and good humour in the execution of this Herculean task.

To Dino Joannidies for suggesting I use Eventbrite to collect payment.

To all the team at Goodman, front and back of house, who confirmed why I believe these restaurants offers the best service in London.

To Wright Bros, Frank Herderman and Darragh O’Shea for proving on a daily basis that we have some of the best ingredients on the planet and should shout about them to foreigners whenever possible.

To James Day for most of the decent images in today's post.

And, last of all to everyone who came along to help me fulfill my one simple aim of enjoying “THE BEST SUNDAY LUNCH EVER”. Even if you think we didn’t quite get there, I hope the list below of what 75 of us managed to consume will at least support our claim to have got pretty damn close.

7 Bottles of Vodka
18 Bottles of Prosecco,
24 Bottles of Chardonnay
60 Bottles of Malbec
6 Bottles of Marsala
400 Maldon Oysters
30Kgs Smoked Salmon & Eel
90kgs Pork/Lamb & Beef
20kg Sherry Trifle
10kg of British Cheese

Roll on the next Dine With Dos Hermanos

BLOKES EAT BEEF: NO HEFFERS ALLOWED

One of the beauties of the Internet is how quickly a plan can come together.

A few weeks before Christmas, I was scrolling down a page of comments of Twitter and came across a tag which read #girlssteakclub. As the name suggests it was a steak-eating event at the splendid Hawksmoor restaurant, organised by women for women with a strict ban on those of us who carry a Y chromosome.

I thought it was a rather silly idea to have an event which set out to exclude half the possible audience and more in petulance than anything else, I created my own tag suggesting a competing event open only to those who could prove they have never talked about their feelings, watched Sisterhood of The travelling Pants (I or II) and think that a good scratch “down there” in the morning is one of the proofs of God’s existence. So, #blokeseatbeef was born and within twenty minutes of me creating the tag, nearly thirty people had contacted me asking for a place.

With Will & Huw of Hawksmoor throwing their lot in with the girlies and with London’s paucity of places for great steak there was one other option for the dinner and that, of course was Goodman. One call to their estimable GM David Strauss and the private room was booked giving us space for twenty-five serious meat eaters to explore their wildest dead cow fantasies.

Although I will of course take lots and lots of credit for the success of last night’s events. In truth every bit of the organisation bar getting people to turn up was down to David and his team. The Goodman guys went into action contacting their suppliers to send in the very best beef they had. There were two five rib joints of Irish beef from Darragh O’ Shea, huge slabs of Belted Galloway from the Lake District, Charolais/Limousin from Scotland and, of course Goodman’s USP, a whacking great piece of prime wet aged USDA from Nebraska.

On their own, this amount of beef (36kgs for the record) would have been enough for a feast, but David was determined to make it even more of a night to remember and had turned to his best suppliers to bring us three courses that will stay in the memory as long as the beef does in our colons.

Glasses of Chapel Down Sparkling Rose might not have seemed the most butch of drinks to begin with, but cleared the palate wonderfully as we all gathered in the private room and watched members of staff carry in trays of raw beef so chef, John Cadieux could take us through the merits of the different cuts. Again, for the record, there was an equal amount of beef to that shown in the picture left down in the kitchen ready to be thrown on their Josper grills

Yes, in case you are not believing your own eyes, we did all gather around to take photographs of the meat as if we were The Sun's finest and it were Amy Winehouse on one of her regular late night tumbles to the gutter. We (and by we, I mean I) may even have given one of the more oxidised joints a stroke as it went passed.

First however, a little starter courtesy of Frank Hederman who, with his wife, had personally flown over three sides of smoked salmon for us to begin our meal. For anyone who hasn’t tried it, it is well worth seeking out. It was a glorious colour, meaty and with a light scent of smoke, a perfect way to begin and complimented by a separate preparation with a mix of cucumber and crème fraiche.

The main course, the beef of course, involved a bit of a test as plate after plate of perfectly cooked meat was brought to the table with only numbers to identify them. The three tables jumped on the plates as soon as they were placed in front of us and we soon began heated debates as to which was our favourite. Opinions differed widely as to which was the best and why. #2, my own choice turned out to be the USDA prime, but there was a strong show of hands for all the other plates at the end of the meal when David asked our opinions.

With steaks, of course come sides, this time in the shape of chips (fat, damn them) creamed spinach and excellent tobacco onions all from vegetables supplied by the excellent MASH Purveyors of New Covent Garden. Also, there is nothing to compliment well prepared meat than an excellent glass of wine and again, thanks to the generosity of Goodman’s suppliers our glasses were constantly topped up during the evening with delicious Malbec and Chardonnay from Argentinean award winner Catena.

I find it hard to imagine that I or anyone else could possibly have made room for more food, but the cheese course, courtesy of La Fromagerie offered up a particularly ripe and pungent slice of Stinking Bishop and I could not resist having a nibble before finally giving in and slumping back on my seat exuding meat juices through some most unusual places.

Meat sweats were very much in evidence amongst the others too as the trays of bones were carried away, but not before most of the party had requested doggy bags to fill with the remains so they could relive the evening at a later date.

In case you are wondering why there is a picture of the food correspondent from The One Show gurning over a plate of bones, Mr Rayner popped in to steal some leftover beef on his way home from reviewing another restaurant.

All that for the bargain amount of £50, which again owes more to the generosity of David, Goodman Steakhouse and their terrific suppliers than it does to my own powers of persuasion. #girlssteakclub is tonight. I am sure it will be a great event, how could it not be at Hawksmoor? But, it is going to have to go some to beat the first of what I hope will be many #blokeseatbeef events.

And, of course, you have to wonder what the hell they are going to do if someone finds a spider in the sink.

GOODMAN REDUX: CRISP, WHITE & OUTTA SIGHT

There were only two of us tinkling away in the bathroom of Goodman when I visited last night. Me, doing what comes naturally to a man of my age and the late lamented Bing crooning out a yuletide whimsy through the slightly tinny speakers. However, It had obviously seen plenty of other typically masculine use recently, as the floors were splashed with drunken and ill aimed attempts to hit the urinal and were also littered with enough loo roll to paper a small suburban flat.

It speaks to the fact that the dining room was so busy no one had a second to make a regular check that all was shipshape toilet wise and also to the fact that a lot had changed in the year since DH first visited Goodman in their week of opening.

On that occasion, there had only been a handful of other diners and the large room with its dark panels and bare tables had looked a little forlorn. There was however, real promise in the food and service along with serious intent to offer a challenge to London’s (still) only other steak provider of worth, Hawksmoor.

I have visited Goodman a number of times during the last year, putting it firmly at number one in my list of places to head to when only a slab of meat will do. Hawksmoor still provides some of the very best steaks in town, but now seems to attract a crowd of males who are closer to the day when their testicles descended than Goodman, which attracts a crowd of men closer to the day they have a few kind words spoken over their bodies before being covered in cold earth. I feel a lot more comfortable with the latter and often find myself dipping in for a steak and a glass of wine at the bar when in Central London. When HP asked me where I might like to head for a pre-Christmas supper on him, I had no hesitation in suggesting this Russian owned restaurant on Maddox Street and, HP being, as people have pointed out, a man who likes to order steak, was happy to go along with the suggestion.

Goodman is blessed with one of the best GM’s in town in the shape of David Strauss. Part American, part Brit, David used to head up FOH at Morton’s in New York City (I think), so as HP puts it “He knows from steakhouses” and it was noticeable to HP, who had only visited once since our initial meal how things had changed, not least in the fact that every seat in the place, including those at the bar had a posterior on it, usually ample and predominantly male.

Some things have not changed. The bar still needs work. The staff are great and the list of wines by the glass decent, but if they could knock out a cocktail as well as Hawksmoor, I might ask them to put a bed in there for me. Likewise, as HP looked around, he sighed as he saw plates of fat chips being placed on the wood of bare tables. We all know how HP adores his crisp, white napery and hates big, fat chips.

David was off work on a rare day of illness but had planned a couple of surprises to make our meal a little unusual. First, we were led towards our table. HP began to beam, gone were the shiny surfaces of polished wood to be covered by a freshly laundered and starched white linen tablecloth. HP began to stroke its surface and purr approvingly as we were handed the menus.

Tonight was going to be all about the steak and as HP had already indulged in a dozen oysters at Corrigan’s we skipped starters and chose two steaks from a selection shown to us by our lovely server, Sarah. A kilogram of USDA Bone in rib-eye had a glorious network of marbling and cried out to be cooked medium-rare to allow the fat to melt into the meat. A slightly smaller piece of grass fed Scottish beef lacked the marbling, but showed the benefits of 30+ days of dry ageing and we asked for that to be prepared rare.

When they were brought to our table, both had been cooked perfectly to order. The Scottish beef could have received a bit more of a char on one of the restaurant’s two Josper grills, but the age provided an intense flavour. The star, however, as we expected was the bone in rib eye. The crust added to the slightly mineral taste you get with corn fed beef and as we expected, the marbling of fat had melted down into beefy juices which leaked onto the plate.

As we began to spear slices of steak with our forks, the second surprise arrived. Remembering the disgust with which HP views chips of the fat variety, David had arranged for two bowls of crisp, thin chips to be brought to the table along with our salad and bowls of dipping sauces. HP beamed again, these were proper chips with a crunchy outside and a floury inside and he began to dip them in the sauces, giving particular approval to béarnaise made sharp with vinegar.

It was not long before we polished off the lot and HP gnawed happily at the last scraps of flesh on the bone before turning his mind to dessert. Like their starters, these too are more perfunctory at Goodman. They are not bad, but serve only to warm up and cool down the stomach before and after a huge steak, just as they should. Undue attention to these usually means less attention is being paid to the main event. Oh and yes, while I ate cheesecake HP ordered ice cream and anyone who has anything to say about it can call me up so I can tell them personally to go fuck themselves.

A splendid evening with a couple of excellent surprises. Goodman is now proving itself to be a consistent source of a decent meal in London, all too rare in a year when most of my best dining has taken place outside the capital. However, David may have opened a Pandora’s box as other diners stared longingly at our excellent chips and wondered what the tablecloth was all about. At the very least, if he tries to serve me fat chips again, I will have a screaming hissy fit.

Oh, one final request, me and Bing both ask nicely, can you send someone downstairs to have a look at the bogs? Thanks.