London Steakhouse Co. City (Bar, Restaurant)

Liverpool Street is a long way to go, especially on a Friday night on the hottest day of the year, but for good food I’m always willing to go the distance. Driving is the only option as I really don’t fancy being on a crowded tube, in rush hour, in this heat. Also, as I seldom wear heels, it’s probably best that I don’t have to walk too far. Conveniently, it’s just off Bishopsgate, on a quiet street away from the hustle and bustle of city workers. I totter over in my neon pink shoes and enter.

We had a look at the website beforehand and saw that the dress code was smart/casual, which is why I am punishing myself in these shoes and why the boyfriend is wearing a shirt. He pokes at his collar, grimacing, then curses me for bringing me here. Surprisingly, I really didn’t need to worry as there’s a guy in shorts, t-shirt and flip flops and others in jeans and trainers. You might expect a restaurant like this would have a stricter dress code but in fact it’s relaxed. The boyfriend nearly rushes back to the car to change into his jeans, but I rein him in as we’re guided to our table.

Reclining back in the super comfy armchair seats, I feel sublimely chilled. I’m almost tempted to kick off my shoes, but I’m classy so refrain. The most striking element of the dining room is the plethora of framed political cartoons on the walls. I ask why they are so prominent and our wonderfully polite and friendly server tell us that they were here in the restaurant’s previous incarnation, and as the customers enjoyed them, they decided to keep them. A female cartoonist who worked for The Telegraph created them in the 70s. Unfortunately, I don’t have a clue what they are about so nod enthusiastically and stick my head deep into the menu.

We peruse the menu and both comment on how classy the venue is; too classy for the likes of us. It has a 60s/70s vibe and maintains a semi formal environment whilst being totally laid back. This definitely wasn’t what I was expecting from a Marco Pierre White restaurant. We choose the ‘3 courses for £21.50’ menu, which is a bargain considering steak is mentioned (albeit for a £6 supplement). I go for the gravadlax and the steak, whereas the boyfriend goes for the kipper pate and the gammon steak.

Sitting in my chair sipping on my cold Pinot Grigio with peachy tones, I notice that a member of staff continually rushing up and down the stairs at the back of the restaurant. I discover that this is the private room and, being nosey, stick my head round the door. It’s very swish and although I try to act casual in my curiosity, the group notice me peering at their party so I quickly potter back to the table.

Thankfully our starters have arrived so I dig in. I tell the boyfriend that we’re to try each other’s dishes. He begrudgingly agrees. The gravadlax is superb and I regret opting to share. A light sweet honey mustard sauce is delicately placed on the salmon and with the accompanying cucumber makes for a satisfying dish. The kipper pate is smooth and goes excellently with the crunchy texture of the Melba toast. I try it with normal bread and it just isn’t the same. Eager to try the next course, I finish the dishes with great speed and wait excitedly for the steak, as Marco Pierre White restaurants are known for their steaks.

The steak looks like a work of art on the plate and I almost don’t want to disturb it. My knife glides through with ease and the juices run out slowly. I take my first bite and my mouth fills with the immense flavours. It’s overwhelmingly good. The meat is of an exceptional quality and I try my best to distract the boyfriend away from my plate. I greedily gorge on the meat and am tempted to lick the plate dry, but am reminded that I am in a restaurant and not in my sitting room.

His gammon steak, however, is equally as good as my steak. The addition of glace cherries may seem odd, but their sweetness counteracts the saltiness of the dish. Also, my favourite part of the meal is the triple cooked chips which are terribly crispy with a gorgeously fluffy middle. The boyfriend says that they’re better than his Mum’s chips, which is quite an accolade.

Seeing as we chose the 3-course menu, it would be insane not to have dessert. Up steps the Cambridge Burnt Cream, which is similar to a crème brulee, served on a china plate with quaint flowers and strawberries. Before I’ve even grasped my spoon, the boyfriend has broken the crisp caramelised sugar topping. Inside I find a smooth immense filling, cool, subtle and delicate. The boyfriend announces that he doesn’t even like crème brulee, but this one is the bee’s knees. I agree, imagine bees with knees, and giggle.

Sufficiently fed and watered we make our way back to the car. Marco Pierre White’s Steak and Alehouse may be a top restaurant, but it doesn’t have the snootiness and pretentiousness that other big restaurants possess. It is great value for money and never scrimps on quality. Next time, though, I will be wearing flats.
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