Think Argentinian food and you think steak. And nothing else. My image of all Argentinians is they have steak juice with their morning steak; they mount their steakcycles, zoom off to the steak factory where they rail over their failure to possess the sheep infested Falkland Islands. That’s their biggest gripe about the Falklands. It’s not territorial; they just don’t like the insult that is thousands of sheep that Her Majesty has spitefully located right on their doorstep. I’m with you, Queenie, but if the Argies were simply to learn to love sheep then we could put this ugliness behind us. We have Cowes on our doorstep, but you don’t see us complaining.
I was pleasantly surprised to see non-steak items on the menu at Garufin (http://www.garufin.co.uk/). Mrs Del Monte treated me to a slap-up grill there for my birthday and we shared croquetas and goat prior to our inevitable steaks. The goat was a mistake because it rather undermines having a thick slab of steak as the goat itself is a thick slab of meat. But it was good eating and washed down with a wonderfully interesting Patagonian cab franc I was annoyed when I had to stop. Though my waistband was audibly relieved.
I’m always wrong-footed by steak. There are so many different cuts: sirloin, fillet, ribeye, other types. I’m convinced that more than once I’ve received something I didn’t order, but how can you ask for confirmation if you lack the basic grammar required to understand the response? I ordered ribeye, but it looked similar to Mrs Del Monte’s sirloin. Not that I’m accusing Garufin of duping me. But perhaps it might be an (extraordinarily impractical and uneconomical) idea to do a steak flight, a little morsel of each type labelled so that any chump knows what they’re getting. A steak flight, by the way, is how Argies go on their hols.
ARGENTINA!
Cheesy croquetas. Totally excess to requirements. Like your mother.
Cabrito: slow cooked goat. How slow I wonder. At what point did the goat realise it was being cooked?
My delicious ribeye. Or was it Mrs Del Monte’s sirloin? Balls.
No, that’s Mrs Del Montes sirloin. I can tell because of context. I’m quite the detective , you’ll agree. I’m like the mystery solving duo Rosemary & Thyme rolled into one husky gentleman.
Chips and tomatoes. There’s an ‘e’ in tomatoes? Not like potatos. Thanks spell check!
The curse of Del Monte strikes again, but it was early and there was footy to be watched. Note the ponchos hanging around for additional authenticity.
This is no way representative of the rest of the restaurant.
It’s below ground. This used to deter me, but not because I was scared. It’s another reason. Why don’t you tell me what you think that reason is and I’ll tell you if you’re correct.
El menu. I didn’t notice the sauces. Balls.
Garufin
25-27 Theobalds Rd
London
WC1X 8SP
Tel: 020 7430 9073
http://www.garufin.co.uk/
