Posts Tagged With: Carnivorous eating

What does the fox say? Not much – it’s too busy eating at Foxlow

Copyright of Foxlow. Sourced from Foxlow website

Copyright of Foxlow. Sourced from Foxlow website

Cuisine: European

Address: 69-73 St John Street, EC1M 4AN

Area: Smithfield

Nearest Station: Farringdon

Tel.: 020 7014 8070

Website: http://foxlow.co.uk/

Pricing: High

Good For: Carnivorous eating, Umami, Friendly conversation, Smart-casual dining, Filling meal, Quality ingredients

Want to know what sort of texts I like to get?

“Dude, I’ve got a booking for Foxlow next Wednesday for 4. You in??”

This one came from my brother. As the booking also came during Foxlow’s soft opening, it also included a complimentary drink. I therefore do not hesitate to say: I love you man, you mah BRO (more specifically, my ADOBRO – cheeky plug for our Filipino supper club right there!!).

A smart but casual diner feel, with *gasp* matching furniture! Cheers to BarChick's website for the photo

A smart but casual diner feel, with *gasp* matching furniture! Cheers to BarChick’s website for the photo

Billed as the more casual sister restaurant to Hawksmoor, that esteemed temple of steaks, Foxlow’s offering of charcoal-grilled and slow-cooked meats automatically appeals to the carnivore inside of us all – hence all the excitement that I’ve seen bandied around online.

However, judging from the menu we were presented with that night, I would say that Foxlow is more an ode to all things umami – there are various ingredients in use there, like beef dripping, anchovies, meat stock, Gubbeen cheese, capers, kimchi and others, that suggest that those guys just want to make sure you get your savoury fix, whether it come in meat, vegetable or fish form.

And let me tell you – we chowed down and got our savouriness on. Guided by our helpful and chatty waitress, who tried to ensure that our order included all of the big-hitters from the menu (e.g. “I would say the monkfish is pretty nice and a must, but since you’re after meat, I wouldn’t bother”), we managed to get ourselves a good spread.

Anchovies on goat's butter crisps. NOM

Anchovies on goat’s butter crisps. NOM

First to come along were the anchovy and goat’s butter crisps. This consisted of a very thin crisp wafer flavoured with goat’s butter, topped with freshly chopped shallots and a piece of anchovy. Our waitress stressed the quality of the anchovy, with the chefs aspiring to provide a healthy balance of salt and fresh fish flavours; once you pop one of these into your mouth, you can see what she means. It was packed so full of flavour and savouriness, you were left craving for more, in spite of how rich they were.

Brixham crab with devilled mayonnaise. Get some crabs!

Brixham crab with devilled mayonnaise. Get some crabs!

Then came our starters, which we dished out amongst the four of us: Crispy Five Pepper squid, Brixham crab with devilled mayonnaise, Baby back Iberico ribs and Smokehouse rillettes. The squid had a hint of smokiness to it, but otherwise I felt them to be rather unremarkable. Good – not greasy, not salty, suitably tasty – but unremarkable. As for the Brixham crab, it was served shredded on green leaves, which I felt made it a bit more difficult to appreciate it fully. Still, it was refreshing and beautifully flavoured, with the devilled mayonnaise adding interesting but not overpowering bite. The ribs, as expected, were very tender and full of barbecue flavour. The smokehouse rillettes, on the other hand, were not as smoky as suggested by the name, but were brilliant in texture and taste. The winning starter, I felt.

Baby back Iberico ribs. Not going to quote Fat Bastard for this one

Baby back Iberico ribs. Not going to quote Fat Bastard for this one

So far, so good. By this point, we’d finished our complimentary drinks (my Tom Ford – a twist on the Tom Collins with gin, Benedictine, lemon and soda – was well-received for its light and herbal touch) and I made a move for the wine, selecting a very smooth and medium-bodied rioja crianza from the decently-sized wine list.

I’d originally earmarked the Ten-hour beef shortrib with kimchi for myself, but seeing as two of the group were also going to order it, I made the adventurous choice and went with the charcoal-grilled Iberico pork ‘pluma’. As our waitress explained, pluma is a type of cut from the loin, and given where it comes from in the pig and the quality of the meat itself, it can be served medium. And oh man was it tasty. It was tender, had a brilliant charcoaled crust to it and just packed an absolute savoury punch, almost akin to a well-flavoured steak. I have never had a cut of pork loin that tasted like this, and the next time I find myself in Foxlow I will definitely order it again.

Iberico pork pluma, in all its glory as captured by my brilliant smartphone

Iberico pork pluma, in all its glory as captured by my brilliant smartphone

The other dishes, in comparison, fell by the wayside. It feels bad to denigrate the other meats on offer, but this is more a tribute to the surprising delights of the Iberico pork pluma than a comment on any form of substandard quality on the parts of the other dishes. The beef was amazingly tender and was also beautifully-flavoured, but after the pluma it tasted rather pedestrian – it was like “Yeah, I’ve had shortrib before, so what?” The Eight-hour bacon rib with maple chilli also suffered a similar fate: again, slow-cooking it for that long produced meat that you could cut like you had a hot knife going through butter, and the flavours of maple and chilli produced something rather special – but hey, bacon rib tastes of bacon and we all know what that is like, right?

Ten-hour beef shortrib with kimchi. One of these things does not belong...

Ten-hour beef shortrib with kimchi. One of these things does not belong…

Before I do any more disservice to the other mains, let’s talk about the sides that we shared. The Beef-dripping potatoes with Gubbeen and capers provided us with very crispy and more-ish potatoes that were a very good accompaniment to our meals; the Broccoli with chilli and anchovy were crisp very well-appreciated, although the chilli was almost undistinguishable beneath the savouriness of the anchovy; the Sausage-stuffed onion was a slightly-caramelised onion in a thick and tasty gravy filled with substantial and nicely seasoned sausage meat – a good combination, but as a side dish it seemed rather overbearing, with the sausage meat competing too much against the main courses.

That rather unappetising lump in the foreground is a sausage-stuffed onion, whilst those are potatoes behind. Not that you can tell

That rather unappetising lump in the foreground is a sausage-stuffed onion, whilst those are potatoes behind. Not that you can tell

So, you’d think that by now we’d be done, right? Think again. Dessert was dangled in front of us, and we just had to take a bite. My Peanutella & Sweet Toast was a crushing blow to any semblance of healthiness I retained: here we had a Nutella jar filled with layers of, er, Nutella, caramel, peanut butter and peanuts, served with lightly-fried sweetened toast batons and – in case you thought Foxlow forgot the savouriness – a sprinkling of sea salt. It was perhaps a bit overwhelming, but in some instances that’s okay. Such as when you are chowing down with your bros, homes.

The photo is so dark because the evilness of this Peanutella and Sweet Toast sucked the light into it

The photo is so dark because the evilness of this Peanutella and Sweet Toast sucked the light into it

And thus our meal was complete. It provided enough sustenance to last us for a leisurely walk down to St Paul’s, across the Millennium Bridge and all the way to London Bridge (one of us is still new to London *cough* tourist *cough*) – and you know what? I’d happily walk that distance again just for a bit more of that Iberico pork pluma. Mmmmmm.

VERDICT – A good place. The dishes we chose were all good and decent, but there were certain highlights that really wowed, like the Iberico pork pluma – and unfortunately that did rather unceremoniously shove the other meats into the shade. But we can overlook that, for Foxlow was a very friendly and cheery place for us, and that’s already a very big plus for the place. Oh, and did I say that I liked the Iberico pork pluma?

Currently listening to: Fun. – At Least I’m Not as Sad (As I Used to be)

Categories: European | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Hoxton Hog: Dinner at the Ginger Pig Café

Copyright of The Ginger Pig Café. Sourced from The Ginger Café website

Copyright of The Ginger Pig Café. Sourced from The Ginger Pig Café website

Cuisine: American

Address: 231 Hoxton Street, N1 5LG

Area: Hoxton

Nearest Station: Hoxton

Tel.: 020 7749 0705

Website: http://thegingerpigcafe.com/

Pricing: Cheap-Medium

Good For: Carnivorous eating, Casual dining, Filling meal, Chilled atmosphere

My brother was a very lucky man recently. Why, I hear you ask? He had not one, not two, but THREE meals to celebrate his recent milestone birthday: one with each parent and one with friends. Now, with the parents, he predictably chose some rather, erm, ‘grown-up’ *cough* pricey *cough* experiences (Balthazar and Hawksmoor) to be treated out to, but his friends opted for something a bit more within budget and a bit more down with the kids.

And so it was that on a Wednesday night we found ourselves traipsing down Hoxton Street – a street that one of the group used to live on some years back, and had fondly dubbed Crack Alley back then (or something similar – you know me with my drugs and thoroughfares, all interchangeable and mix-and-match) – being led to a ‘secret’ location.

The Ginger Pig Café must be a well-kept secret then, because it was fairly quiet that Wednesday. The few couples there who were probably looking forward to a nice, quiet and intimate meal may very have been a bit put-off by the arrival of a boisterous birthday crowd (mwahahaha). On the other hand, I quite liked that we could very nearly say that the place was ours that night.

Simple and parsimonious are the two words that spring to mind when I remember the setting: tiled floors, straightforward wooden chairs and tables, and little baskets/tins of condiments on each table. The Ginger Pig is trying to evoke a bit of an old caff feel – it is a ‘café’ after all, duh – and of course this fits in with the whole small-time, chilled neighbourhood atmosphere of the place. Perfect, I guess, for local Hoxtonites (and interlopers such as our good selves) to call home.

The only beer they serve on tap is Meantime – a good brewery, but it would have been nice to see some of the local alternatives being given some face time. The wine selection looked quite interesting, drawing on a lot of French and Italian choices from what I can remember, and covered a good price range, and was attractively put on show (a downside I could think of this was that other diners and even your date would be able to see very clearly exactly how much you paid for your wine… but that’s just the snob in me coming out now).

Does what it says... on the wall

Does what it says… on the wall

And so, we have an English caff, with French wines, serving… American-inspired food? I settled for the hickory home-smoked pork belly with chips, pickled gherkins and coleslaw, which was good as it sounds. It was a lovely chunk of pork belly, cooked tender and juicy on the inside and charred and crispy on the outside; these guys seem to care about the meat they dish out to hungry diners, and it is a care that extends to a well-balanced coleslaw and fluffy chips.

Beauty and the beast

Beauty and the beast

It was therefore a shame that the barbecue sauce seemed so… clichéd and generic. They could have gone with something a bit more exciting or daring (a bit Japanese, with teriyaki? A bit Italian, with apricot and sage? Or what about Filipino – OH YES ADOBO OR TOCINO MARINADES OHMIGOD THAT WOULD BE GOOD), but instead they opted for an average barbecue sauce that was squizzed rather sloppily all over the place. I’m sorry, but to me it seemed like they splashed mediocrity over an otherwise brilliant dish.

"...like they splashed mediocrity over an otherwise brilliant dish"

“…like they splashed mediocrity over an otherwise brilliant dish”

The rest of the table headed straight to the ‘home made ground beef’ section to make their choices. Now, call me a bit dim (actually, please don’t), but a brief glance at the description did not lead me to immediately assume that what the Ginger Pig actually meant were burgers. After all, there was no mention of a bun anywhere, which seems to be a big no-no for many burger joints these days that talk about their brioche buns etc.

A rather quaint and traditional 'home made ground beef' dish

A rather quaint and traditional ‘home made ground beef’ dish

I only made the link between ground beef and burgers when they arrived on the table, stacked high and with knives thrust deep into them to keep their burger integrity. The general opinion was that these were very good burgers – cooked with as much care as went into my pork belly, with an excellent selection of fillings (the El Panchito with Monterey Jack cheese, chorizo, guacamole, red peppers, chimichurri and chipotle sauce was a winner of a burger), but rather interestingly they were categorised as “amazing pub burgers”, rather than in the same league as the numerous burger specialists populating London these days (price-wise, the Ginger Pig is a bit cheaper too). Choice of descriptor and category aside, I was a bit jealous of what I saw… maybe next time it will be burger time for me.

And if it weren’t so far away in Hoxton Land, I would venture there for their breakfasts. New Cross may only be twenty minutes away from East London, but that’s twenty minutes too far on a Saturday morning…

VERDICT – A good place. Everyone involved had a brilliant time and ate very heartily and well. It’s a charming little place that has some very enticing options on the menu (all offered at a reasonable price), and they seem to take care over what they do… the only thing stopping me from being more enraptured by the Ginger Pig is that barbecue sauce. Deal with that, and things will be just hunky dory.

Currently listening to: Metallica – For Whom the Bell Tolls

Categories: American | Tags: , , , , , , | 1 Comment

A steak that would mash your insides: Getting our beef on at MASH

Copyright of MASH. Sourced from MASH website

Copyright of MASH. Sourced from MASH website

Cuisine: American

Address: 77 Brewer Street, W1F 9ZN

Area: Soho

Nearest Station: Piccadilly Circus

Tel.: 020 7734 2608

Website: http://www.mashsteak.dk/restaurants/london/

Pricing: High

Good For: Filling meal, Proper service, Carnivorous eating, Ambience, Smart-casual dining, Place for romance, Quality meat

Well, that was a filling meal. Stuffed right to the gills, rolling out of there like a tubby barrel, groaning at the sides; I’d been MASH’ed.

Let’s rewind a bit. My dad wanted to take me and my brother out for a nice steak meal, and after scoping out a number of different places, finally settled on MASH. MASH, if you don’t know, supposedly stands for Modern American Steak House, but rather confusingly has come to us via Denmark, but fear not – this was a thoroughly American evening.

Your first impression is shaped by the rather spacious and grand lobby you enter at street level, guarded by an imposing bouncer and overseen by an ever-smiling receptionist of sorts. Once she took my details, she informed me that my party were waiting for me downstairs, but what she didn’t mention was that there would be two waitresses waiting there too, greeting me by name and shepherding me to my seat. So far so good.

Your second impression is formed by the cavernous space that greets you as you enter the bar and main dining room. All decked out in Art Deco and illuminated by warm lighting, the area is truly impressive. How did they get such a big basement, with such high ceilings, right in the middle of Soho?? You could spend a good few minutes just looking around, soaking up the atmosphere and imagining you were in 1930’s New York, as smooth jazz tinkled over the sound systems.

Cavernous. Like a cave

Cavernous. Like a cave

Your third impression is coloured by the large racks and chunks of beef hanging to dry in their airing cupboards separating the bar and the restaurant. I won’t go so far as to say that I am astounded and wowed by raw meat (a childhood spent around the wet markets in Hong Kong can have that effect upon you), but I was still fascinated by the way that they were being presented almost like pieces of art. Pieces of succulent, tender, meaty, art……. Ahem.

So, let’s talk food. Let’s talk STEAK. I opted for the bone-in N.Y. strip (approx. 600g), culled from IBP prime, Nebraska cattle. For those uninitiated to what this means, N.Y. strip is cut from the short loin and is a rather tender piece of meat, being from a little-used muscle; it was also described to me by my brother, steak expert that he is, as like the bigger half of the T-bone steak and with a bit more fat to it. And as for IBP prime, Nebraska, “this certified and hormone-free, corn-fed beef is as tender and flavourful as you can imagine”.

Bone-in N.Y. strip. Imagine all of that meat in your stomach. OUCH

Bone-in N.Y. strip. Imagine all of that meat in your stomach. OUCH

As far as I was concerned, it was a wonderfully tasty steak that had no need of sauce. Cooked perfectly to rare, it was extremely succulent and not hard to chew through. But I must reserve highest praise for the fat lining the edges of the N.Y. strip – never have I had fat that melted that easily in my mouth. None of this horrible stringy and chewy fat that I can picture very clearly on that Slug & Lettuce steak a colleague had down in Poole (*shudder*); it actually felt socially acceptable to eat fat this luxurious. All in all, I was very happy with my choice of steak; I think we were all happy with our choices, my brother and my dad contented as they were with the long-bone ribeye (Danish beef, dry-aged for 70 days. 70. DAYS. I did not know you could age beef for that long).

As for sides, I accompanied this with macaroni and cheese (rich, thick and creamy) and creamy spinach (creamy, unsurprisingly). And, since the 600g of steak had quite properly finished me off, all that was left for me to have for dessert was a richly sweet glass of 2008 Patricius “Katinka”, Late Harvest Tokaji. What a perfect way to end an evening of gluttonous steak eating.

Why you gotta hurt me like that?

Why you gotta hurt me like that?

VERDICT – A good place. It’s a rather impressive venture, all the way from the extremely friendly staff to the atmosphere and décor and to the well-executed steaks. Rather cheekily, they delivered the bill to us in an envelope labelled “The Damage”, but I think that just topped off what an enjoyable evening it was, where a father was able to take his two darling sons out for a ‘simple’ steak dinner.

Currently listening to: Cancer Bats – Drive This Stake

Categories: American, Steak | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Steak is what we wanted, and steak is what we got: Flat Iron sets up shop in Soho

Copyright of Flat Iron. Sourced from Flat Iron website

Copyright of Flat Iron. Sourced from Flat Iron website

Cuisine: Steak

Address: 17 Beak Street, W1F 9RW

Area: Soho

Nearest Station: Oxford Circus/Piccadilly Circus

Tel.: N/A

Website: http://flatironsteak.co.uk/

Pricing: Medium

Good For: Friendly conversation, Quality meat, Smart-casual dining, Carnivorous eating, Good sides

Once upon a time, there was an outfit offering steak in a tucked away room above a quaint ickle pub called the Owl and Pussycat, hidden away down a small alley in a distant neighbourhood called Shoreditch. This outfit called themselves Flat Iron, and marketed themselves around a relatively unknown cut of meat called the, er, flat iron. The perfect recipe to remain off the radar and continue in relative obscurity.

Well hello there, Mr Flat Iron

Well hello there, Mr Flat Iron

Pffft. Yeah right. When I did go with friends, it was the last week of their residency at the Owl and Pussycat, and although we were able to waltz in just after 6pm for a table, by the time we left the queue was IMMENSE. Flat Iron had hit upon something golden: a tender, delicious steak at very affordable prices (nearly everyone in our group had the wagyu special, for only £16), in one of the most happening neighbourhoods in London (yeah, I just said happening, urk).

But I’m not here to talk about days of yore. I’m here to talk about Flat Iron’s new base at 17 Beak Street. They quietly opened last week, see, a bit earlier than expected, so I thought that it was the perfect time to rally the troops and organise an outing for some meaty tenderness. One of the troops had been so eagerly awaiting Flat Iron’s opening that he replied to my text before I even had the chance to put the phone down. Expectations were high; Flat Iron had better deliver!

The good delivery started as soon as I walked in the door: with a smile and a warm welcome, I was ushered downstairs to the bar to await my friends and a table, and was pleasantly surprised to find it quite spacious. I hate being asked to wait at the bar for a table, only to find that I am scrunched between the bar stools, the small packed-together tables and busy wait-staff carrying precariously perched plates of food around. Not so at Flat Iron, where I was able to prop myself up at a table and enjoy my negroni and the popcorn that had been popped in beef dripping, all in relative peace and comfort.

It wasn’t long before the others arrived. When Hungry Friend (she’d forgotten to eat lunch – how, I really don’t know) plonked herself down at the table, her eyes popped at the thought of beef-dripping popcorn; and into her mouth they all popped. Thank heavens they’re free and all-you-can-eat, as we must have polished off three cans whilst down there. A friendly note for the Flat Iron crew: starving girls need feeding, and some bar snacks would not have gone unappreciated that night.

But no matter, for even though there were five of us our table was ready within ten minutes and we were guided back upstairs. I suppose the short wait was a result of it being only their second day of being open to the public (and the fact that they have two floors of dining now), but I felt particularly blessed after the queues I’d seen at the Owl and Pussycat. Just as short was the time it took for us to order – with only one main course on offer, do you really need to spend ages deliberating? – as well as get more popcorn for our ravenous Hungry Friend. The amount she devoured was scary.

We tried to take her mind off the wait for our food, but Hungry Friend’s situation was not helped when the kindly staff accidently brought someone else’s order to our table (the spectre of my experience at Patty & Bun back to haunt me?). Although they were quick to realise the mistake, it was still enough time for some salt to be added to one steak, rendering it useless for its original dining destination. So, it had to sit there and wait for the rest of the dishes, taunting Hungry Friend and making the minutes stretch into days. More popcorn and the sympathetic attention of the staff could not ameliorate the situation enough.

Look at those beauties - medium rare flat iron, crispy fries and aubergine bake

Look at those beauties – medium rare flat iron, crispy fries and aubergine bake

So we were thankful when the rest of the food did come. I was concerned that my first dream-like experience back at the Owl and Pussycat would have spoiled my expectations, but I needn’t have worried, as my medium rare steak was glorious: the tender, pink slices that were meltingly soft were full of flavour, so much so that I didn’t feel the need to use any of the sauces our table had on offer. It combined very well with the crispy fries, and even better with the aubergine bake (I forget exactly what was in it) that was juicy and delicious. It was a perfect reflection of that taste experience earlier in the year.

VERDICT – Highly recommended. It is a quality steak; it is served at a great price for what it is; it is centrally-located in Soho. Surely that’s a tick list for success? All five of us thoroughly enjoyed our meal, and left satisfied with the experience, even if there were a couple of service lapses (especially painful for Hungry Friend, as she stared down that lonely, mis-ordered steak that was not hers). These slight lapses, however, I can forgive as ‘early days’ problems needing to be ironed out (maybe with a flat iron?? HA). But with a staff that friendly and attentive, I’m sure Flat Iron will go on to do good, very good. Get in there before the queues build!

Currently listening to: Dem Brooklyn Bums – Guido Slouch

Categories: Steak | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Lunch for the big boys: the mighty Moo Grill lomito

Copyright of Moo Grill. Sourced from Moo Grill website

Cuisine: Argentinean

Address: 4 Cobb Street, E1 7LB

Area: Spitalfields

Nearest Station: Aldgate/Liverpool Street

Tel.: 020 7377 9276

Website: http://www.moogrill.co.uk/

Pricing: Medium

Good For: Casual dining, Friendly conversation, Filling meal, Lunchtime fix, Carnivorous eating

Having been pointed in the way of youngandfoodish.com’s Top Ten Burger List (a recommended pathway to glorious unhealthiness… yes yes), I soon discovered that they also had a Top Ten Sandwich List. Whilst I could snobbishly say that I’d already heard of four of the top ten, I must confess that the description of the lomito at Moo Grill as “the kind of steak sandwich that obsessions are made of” made me rather excited. And since it was within walking distance of work, I guess that it had to be done.

Well, earlier this year work was… very quiet, to put it mildly. I had the time and luxury to roam widely and freely during my lengthy lunch hours, and so it was not long between hearing of Moo Grill and my actually going there.

Cobb Street, one of the small lanes between Bishopsgate and Commercial Street, is probably the last place you’d expect to find an Argentinean steak restaurant. The front gives nothing away, but as soon as you enter you know you’ve hit somewhere special. Whilst the brickwork and wood exude a bit of a rustic feel, any visual effect is topped by the bellows of “Amigo!” that reverberate around the small and narrow establishment. As I ordered takeaway from the counter at the back of the restaurant, I was told with much pride that they had WiFi that I could use while I waited. I could sense that this was the start of a great new relationship.

I’ve since been there several times now for takeaway (and one sit down) and have had three different lomitos, their signature ‘gourmet’ sandwiches – Potro, Pollo Loco and Milanga. If I were pressed to choose, I would go for the Potro, as it comes with tasty ham and  egg – just more protein, really. But then again, the crispy, breaded deep-fried steak in the Milanga lathered with American mustard is also a sure-fire winner. Ah, the tyranny of choice…

What my mighty Potro lomito would have looked like, if I had photographed it.
Copyright of Moo Grill. Sourced from Moo Grill website

But why choose, huh? All of them are packed in the sort of warm, crusty ciabatta that you would write home about if you found it in a tiny no-name bakery in an Italian village no one has heard of, and when I say packed I mean PACKED. These sandwiches are hustling and bustling with ingredients and full of flavour. Each bite brings something new to the table in terms of texture and flavour. The steak (and in the case of Pollo Loco, the chicken) is beautifully tender, perfect for a sandwich. If I had one criticism of the lomito concept, I would say that perhaps it had too many ingredients… but that’s like a ‘weakness’ you would offer up in a job interview i.e. not particularly a weakness at all.

I wish I had taken photos to commemorate my experiences, but colleagues do tend to look oddly (and judgingly) at you when you photograph food at your desk…

That first visit of mine, the man-with-the-plan behind the counter cheerily informed me that he was peddling alfajorcitos for dessert, home-made to an old family recipe. Whether that’s his spiel or not, these small alfajores live up to expectations. The shortbread is the right amount of crumbly, and offsets the sweetness of the dulce de leche nicely. If the lomitos were not so big, I’d have these for dessert every time. And then I’d be fat.

VERDICT – Highly recommended. Their lomitos will clobber you for six. Their smiles and cries of “Amigo” will heal your lomito-inflicted wounds, and encourage you to go back. Moo Grill puts the best of the nearby sandwich chains to almighty shame. There is no excuse not to at least try them once. Seriously, they have things sorted – a unique offering for the area, a quality product, and a sincere warmth and friendliness. If only I worked a bit closer now…

Categories: Argentinian | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments