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

ANOTHER PHEASANT DOS HERMANOS SUNDAY LUNCH

I received a few e-mails following my last post about our trip to Madrid. Apparently I set rather a sad tone for the whole piece as I discussed the end of an era. Well, I am sorry to drag you down the same path, but I feel I am about to do the same with a discussion of yesterday’s Sunday lunch prepared lovingly by Hermano Primero.

You can’t really blame me. 2010 marks the tenth anniversary of our joint move into Casa Dos Hermanos. A few months before our arrival, we were leading very different lives, HP ensconced in a bachelor pad in Putney and me in the small but comfortable garden flat I had purchased in Harrow on The Hill during my first marriage.

We were both ready for a move and began separately looking for flats closer to Central London. I had already seen a couple near to The British Museum that I considered suitable when HP telephoned one night with the suggestion that we combine our resources and look for a larger place in fast becoming fashionable Hoxton and Shoreditch. I didn’t take much persuading. The places I had looked at were tiny, but together we were able to afford the palatial duplex, which is Casa DH and we moved in a few short weeks after the dawn of The Millennium.

The last ten years which followed saw us living an existence somewhere in the middle ground between Niles/Frasier and Oscar/Felix (I will leave you to comment on which one of us is which) but despite encountering most of the typical sibling moments, usually caused by less than equal sharing of a piece of meat, it has never been less than fun and I have taken advantage of HP’s knowledge and generosity to support my own desire to find out more about the food I have been shovelling in my mouth.

The next decade will inevitably bring with it a change. Although I am hugely excited about my new life across the pond, I will, of course, miss so many of the things I have enjoyed about the last years. Most of all I will miss the meals we have shared together. We have eaten hundreds of them as we have sat opposite each other in restaurants. Huge plates of fish & chips, stupidly large steaks, meals at new and exciting fine dining restaurant and meals at tiny holes in the wall. We have eaten the lot, but, above any of them, the meals I shall miss the most are the leisurely Sunday lunches we have prepared at home on the all too rare occasions when we have both been in the same place at the same time.

We have taken it in turns to prepare them and used the opportunity to go in search of the very best ingredients we could buy to make certain we do not let the other hermano down and give them opportunity to criticise (something Bengali males can do at a professional level). They have nearly always involved a slab of meat (“Fish” as HP puts it “is a starter, not a meal”) which is supported by all the traditional trimmings and more than a bottle or two of good wine. There has often been a martini or two involved as well.

There are more than a few accounts of these meals posted on here and as we hurtle towards Christmas we both decided that it was time to have one last Sunday blow out before the end of the “00’s. This time it was joint effort involving two plump pheasant purchased by me at O’Shea’s Butcher in Knightsbridge and all the accompaniments provided by HP. I left the cooking to him and while I flopped on the sofa and watched the football, the smells of roasting game birds wrapped in bacon began to fill the flat, so that by the time lunch was served I was ready to rip them apart with my hands.

It was as good a Sunday lunch as we had enjoyed in the previous ten years and as we speared meaty pork sausages, spooned up creamy bread sauce and fought over the last bits of bacon, we both raised a glass (soft drink in my case, I am on the wagon) to the pleasures of the last ten years and the excitement of what is to come for both of us in the next.

I have so much to look forward to and I can’t wait to get started on the next stage of the journey. But, I also can’t wait until the next time HP and I manage to sculpt time from our hectic schedules to share a meal. Particularly if it is in Casa DH and it is on a Sunday.

DOS HERMANOS EN CASA: COSTILLAS DE CORDERO ASADAS Y CERDO

HS was working hard on his new book at the weekend so to make sure he didn’t waste away I offered to cook. Inspired by last week’s recession special of Chicken Wings I thought I’d try that other cheap cut Breast of Lamb. The only restaurant where I’ve regularly seen this cut on the menu was at The Sportsman in Seasalter where Chef Stephen Harris prepares it in the Ste Ménéhould method. Lamb Ribs are fantastically tasty but quite fatty and need a fair bit of cooking (probably why they’re not served too often).

To prep, the Lamb the ribs were thrown into a pot and with some Carrots, Onions and simmered for a couple of hours. I did have fleeting thoughts of doing something more fancy but in the end I just mixed the ribs with chopped Rosemary, thinly sliced Garlic, Carraway seeds to add a little taste contrast, seasoning and some oil. Then into a medium oven for a couple of hours. The ribs still had a lot of fat on by the time they finished cooking but were so crisp and delicious and moreish that it was difficult to stop eating them. Which we didn’t, fuelled by the thought that the other Hermano might be getting more than his fair share. Unsurprisingly, we had horrendous indigestion which should put us off overindulging in this way again but probably won’t.

The next day we went meat-free for all of, oh, four hours before HS said he was hungry and when was dinner. Luckily, I’d bought a joint of Pork – the seldom seen Hand and Spring. Basically, it’s the shoulder of Porky Pig with a bit of the belly. Usually it’s boned and rolled or braised but a straight roast is easier and this joint has so much fat and connective tissue that it’s virtually bomb proof – just shove in the oven and forget it. Apple Sauce, whole roast Garlic cloves and some greens (because we like our meals to be balanced). The meat is all dense and chewy and porky and quite like the meat of say, the Loin.

We like to think we’re doing our bit along with the micro-slebs to help rescue the little fishies by eating as much meat as we can and I think quite a few were rescued at the weekend. Meat Free Mondays ? Bring it on.

SUNDAY LUNCH: A SLAB OF WELSH BEEF

Although we have posted many Sunday lunches on DOS HERMANOS and a good chunk of them have been in honour of the cow, my return from Wales with a 1.5kg slab of 45 day aged Welsh longhorn rib from N.R. James, purveyors of fine faggots to the cognoscenti, gave particular cause for celebration.

I am pretty certain I saw a tear in HP’s eye and we took it in turns to stroke the glistening and slightly yellow fat and murmur words of lust normally reserved for the honeymoon suite. There may even have been a little dance involved.

I placed its preparation in the hands of HP whose skills with such things should never be doubted and he spent a good chunk of Saturday night preparing stock for the gravy, with roasted beef bones from a previous meal, and the batter for the obligatory mound of Yorkshire puddings.

This morning, before a brisk post gym walk to work up an appetite, he removed the royal rib from the fridge and allowed it to come up to room temperature and, while we waited for it to cook, a half bottle of Mazanilla, some olives and a mound of excellent pork scratchings kept me from clawing at the oven door.

As the beef was removed (fat stripped to be returned to the oven alongside the puddings for extra crispness, of course) I was pretty sure it would be worth the wait while it rested.

Well of course it was worth the wait, with a bowl of fiery, fresh horseradish and some perfunctory greens the beef was allowed to shine through in all its aged glory. The primary taste was clean with none of the whiff of stale fat you get from lesser meat and HP’s expert cooking left enough bite to the perfectly rare flesh to put up some toothsome resistance and to combat an equally meaty bottle of Bierzo from Castilla Y Leon.

HP was disappointed with the Yorkshire puddings, but I was not, preferring mine slightly doughy to soak up the juices, particularly when said gravy has been made, as it was, with a good, generous splosh of Madeira.

To keep the booze quotient suitably high, HP finished his afternoon’s entertainment with a large glass of Patxaran while I cracked the stopper from a bottle of Penderyn, Wales’ only single malt whisky, in this case the version aged in Oloroso barrels and really not bad at all.

With me back out on the road on Tuesday, it is going to be a while until we get chance to do this Sunday lunch thing again, but I shall take with me a happy memory of a classic HP meat fest.