Hawksmoor Spitalfields, East London.

Ribeye steak, trotter baked beans and jersey royals.

                       

Gather round children, and I will tell you a story.

Once upon a time there was a cow. A very tasty cow, with beautiful creamy marbled fat running through all its dark, succulent muscles.

Every night the cow dreamed his beefy dreams. “When I grow up, I want to be a steak. Well, not just one steak I suppose, but many steaks: ribeyes, and rumps, and sirloins and fillets...huge porterhouses, prime ribs and chateaubriands...oh how I wish to be a myriad of steaks!

When I grow up, I would like to be eaten in a place where cocktails and red wine flowed freely. Where potatoes were embraced whatever their size: the small, new potatoes being drowned in butter and herbs, and the large being sliced into chips to be sizzled in dripping, or else thrice-fried. Where beans come baked with a pigs trotter to become pools of porky unctuousness. Oh how I wish!

When I grow up, I would like the people who eat me to be amazed at my delicious beefiness. Where all steaks taste so umami that if they were an umami equation, they would be 'marmite x worcestershire sauce x parmesan x anchovies x soy sauce = the steaks'.

I wish for my flesh to be sauced with a gravy of my own bone marrow. And perhaps, just perhaps, to be followed by an ice cream sundae containing breakfast cereal. I don’t even know why on earth I wish that last bit, but Oh! How I wish!”

And you know what kids? Well that little cow, well...his wish came true.

Welcome to Hawksmoor.

Fillet steak, lettuce and herb salad and bone marrow gravy.

Last week I visited Hawksmoor’s Spitalfields branch with my friend Julia from work. This was the first time I had been to the Spitalfields branch, but I had been to the Seven Dials branch once before with the Bear, on our 3 year anniversary. It was the best anniversary ever. They let us share a burger instead of starters, we drank numerous cocktails and lots of very good pinot noir, we had a porterhouse steak BIGGER THAN MY HEAD, chips which had been cooked in beef dripping (causing outbursts which went a little something like “Oh. My. God. WHYAREN’TALLCHIPSLIKETHISNOMNOMNOMSOGOOOOODNOMNOMNEEDMOOORRREE....”) and our waiter even gave us a couple of glasses of champagne on the house when he heard it was our anniversary. In short, it was perfect.

On this visit, things were a tad more restrained, but still resulted in us both clutching at our bellies moaning “so full...so full of steak...need to sleep.” Having had the forsight to remember how full I was on my last visit, I eschewed carbs to make more room for beef in my belly (The aforementioned beef dripping chips are only offered at the Seven Dials branch so I was not missing out. If these had been on the menu I no doubt would have ordered them). This plan worked well and I finished my 400g ribeye. Julia, who had ordered some buttery new potatoes, had to leave some of her fillet, despite it being a mere 300g.



My dinner - note the lack of potatoes.


The menu is pretty much the same in both branches, except:

1)       No beef dripping chips in Spitalfields (boo!)

2)      BUT the bonus of trotter baked beans in Spitalfields (yay!)

Quite frankly I think the two just about cancel each other out.



You pay us now, yes?

Go. For the love of all that is good and beefalicious, go now.

Hawksmoor,
157 Commercial Street,
City of London,
E1 6BJ