Hawksmoor at the Guildhall

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.

Work Christmas Party and Sunday Brunch to Recover

This Christmas Season is taking its toll on me. Two major daylong hangovers in three days is showing my age, and with a few more to come. How am I gonna survive.

Years ago hangovers were a weekly occurrence, nowadays they are becoming less and less frequent. Although, all my recent ones have involved copious amounts of strong Belgium beer, consumed on empty stomachs. Schoolboy errors.

Choosing the right venue for a Christmas works do, requires some delicate choosing, as you have to make sure everyone is happy. But since I work with quite a few Indian men whose idea of a good night out is, well basically is to get pissed. Easy choosing.

So all we needed was a large lively venue, a bit of food and lots of free booze. I think it took us about 30 minutes to choose our venue, and with a week to spare we were impressed anything was available.

I’m not sure who actually picked Guanabara as our venue, but it turned out to be an ok choice. Well it had all the ingredients for a Christmas party.

Large spacious venue, lively music with a good crowd of party folks, and the most important thing, the boss’s credit card behind the bar.

I started the evening off in Lowlander, having a couple of beers before waiting for everyone else to turn up. It was a big error, as nearly everyone else went straight in to the place, as they were getting free booze. Why pay for something when someone else is paying. Doh !!!

As soon as I entered I found out it was 2-4-1 on cocktails. A couple of mojitios came my way pretty quick. Then another two, and maybe two more. This all before we had sat down to eat. It was going to be a real messy night.

The normal menu at Guanabara does have some classic Brasilian items on it, like Feijoida. That wonderful black bean and pork stew. However the Christmas menu was about as Brasilian as the weather outside. I’m not even gonna try and beef up the food. It was pretty bad. It was real boil-in-the-bag-brought-in-and-heated-up-type-food. The crab chowder was bright red and pretty tasteless. My boil in the bag lamb shank was pretty tasteless, but the mint sauce had some kind of minty flavour. The pudding, which was some kind of passion fruit mousse, was pretty thick. I think I had one spoonful and that was about it. Couldn’t do no more.

I was here to get drunk, and drunk I did. After dinner everything got a bit fuzzy. I think it may have been the cachaças I was consuming through dinner. Thank the lord I never had any caipirinha, as the sugar would have blown me away. Something about sugar and alcohol my body cannot take.

I don’t actually remember leaving or getting home. But thankfully I woke up on the bus two stops form my house. Phew.

Guanabara is what it is really. This is a party venue and it does it very well. The food is pretty pants, but I didn’t expect anything else. The vibe is excellent, and my fuzzy memory has nothing but happy thoughts.

Waking up the next morning was a bit of a mare, but somehow I managed to struggle out of bed and make it to the Hawksmoor on Commercial Street for some well needed brekkie. Although it was nearing noon, so we could of have their famed roast, but as we had it at the Seven Dials branch a while back. So we opted for the breakfast to kill all other breakfast. The Hawksmoor Breakfast for 2 to share and costing £30, was the same price as two roasts.

Someone made a comment a while ago that this branch is more set up like a club than a place to have a roast. I can see the point. Very elegant and cool, much more designed for big steak eating than hungover Sunday brunch eating. But I like it here more than the Seven Dials restaurant. More cozy here. Plus it was quieter which was good for my head.

The waitress took pity on me and was filling up my glass of water every few minutes, I was expecting her to offer me an anadin.

I ordered a London Pride Pale Ale, which was supposed to level out my blood-alcohol level. It worked but it took me forever to finish that glass.

The breakfast was a sight for sore eyes. In no order of excellence were a Smoked Bacon Chop, Sausages, Bubble and Squeak, Trotter Baked Beans, Fried Eggs, Bury Black Pudding, Bone Marrow Trotter, Grilled Mushrooms, Roast Tomatoes, Good Toast and Gravy. I think that was all we had. Damn my memory is still there.

The waitress suggested to us to have the black pudding with a dab of English mustard and some malt vinegar. It kicked arse. Never thought of using malt vinegar on anything but chips. What a philistine I am.

I have to say that was one hell of a brekkie. Maybe the best I have ever had. But to cut through the hangover I had it needed more grease. But if I had wanted that I would have gone to the café near to my house, which looks like a good café. One day soon.

Hawksmoor seem to be hitting all the right buttons with me at the moment. The only thing I haven’t eaten there is what they are famous for and that is their steaks. Next visit. 

Sunday Roast @ Hawksmoor near to Seven Dials

I feel sometimes that I am so terribly untrendy. I mean I haven’t even eaten at Goodman’s, Polpetto or Dishoon to name but a few. So uncool I hear you cry.

On the other hand I’m also not the kind of person who rushes to those newly opened restaurants, to be able to say I was the first few to have sampled the delights of a new eatery. I prefer to let places breath for a while. It gives the team involved time to iron out those creases that arise from any opening. I mean who wants to eat at a restaurant that isn’t running at full stride and hitting perfection with every dish.

So much has been made of the Hawksmoor over the years that I knew one day we would have to eat there. So oddly enough, with the opening of its newest incarnation near to Seven Dials in Covent Garden, a chance was there. So as it was Sunday, and the Observer had just named Hawksmoor the Best Sunday Roast 2010, it had to be tried to be believed.

So on a lovely Sunday afternoon, a rare thing these days. We ventured off into Central London to sample the best Sunday Roast.

The entrance is a little bizarre actually. They are very big and grand and give the impression that you are entering some Imperial brothel.

The restaurant is underground and is wood heaven. I wonder how many trees were felled to equip this place out. The only downside is that there is no natural light, which I wish we were there at night, not in the early afternoon.

We were here for one thing and one thing only. Sunday Roast. Thankfully there were some left, as our waiter rolled off a list of everything that wasn’t available.

What came was a piece of heaven. I can rightly understand why they won the best Sunday Roast award. It was something special.

The large slab of rump was served quite rare. Just how I like it. The first bite reminded me of the taste of beef that I tried to find on a recent trip to Paris but failed miserably. More on that trip in a few weeks.

The sides were just as good. Lovely blocks of carrots, parsnips, and a good hearty slice of cabbage. Nice crispy roast tatties, big Yorkshire pudding. But the trump card was a couple of banana shallots cut down the middle and roasted in their skins, plus a whole head of garlic. The sweet pulpy loveliness was pretty easy to pop out of their skins. I wish more restaurants would serve roasted garlic. It has a sweet taste to it.

Oh nearly forgot the gravy which came in a small gravy boat. It had a deep flavor to it that is what Sunday roasts are all about. I just wish there was a tad more, maybe a teaspoon more, but now I am being picky.

We were the last of the few who had the Sunday Roast, although a lot of people starting having the rump steak with the roast trimmings, much to the displeasure of the couple next to us. They just missed out on this new invention by minutes. They were not amused, and I would not have been either. They did complain and bitch to the manager and rightly so.

For pudding we opted to share the apple and quince crumble with cinnamon ice cream. It was as crumbles should be. Lots of fruit on the bottom and lot of crumble on the top. The ice cream was so cold I couldn’t actually taste the cinnamon. A shame but the ice cream went well with the crumble. Good choice.

There are a good selection of beers and wine to choose from.

All in all it was a great Sunday roast, with some good trimmings different from the rest. But the restaurant does not have a Sunday roast feel about it. It’s more of a nighttime meat fest rather than a super chill out Sunday lunchtime eatathon. I’m gonna have to try the original.