JW Steakhouse, Park Lane

JW Steakhouse, Park Lane

by: Tom Jeffreys

Tom Jeffreys conquers the mighty Tomahawk rib-eye, the Everest of steaks.

There are various phases to the eating of a 1kg Tomahawk rib-eye steak at JW Steakhouse. There’s the initial excitement – mixed with fear and trepidation – as the colossal cut of meat arrives at the table, a foot-long swoop of bone protruding upwards and outwards. This gives way to greedy delight at the first taste or richly pungent beef, its manly aroma tempered by a surprisingly delicate texture. For a cut this size – and served bloody and blue as requested – the texture is astounding. About half-way through you begin to feel you’ve made a mistake. But pride forces you on. You can’t be beaten by beef. Never! The last mouthfuls, in all honesty, are a real struggle but I’m nothing if not stubborn (or disgustingly greedy depending n your point of view) and eventually the victory is mine – Pyrrhic as it may be. Ha! Take that cow! I ate a whole herd! The rest of the day, needless to say, is a complete write-off.

JW Steakhouse is a strange place. Attached to the Grosvenor Hotel on Park Lane, it’s a massive, cavernous room, decked out like those dreadful tourist-baiting steak places places round Leicester Square – or at least I imagine it is, I’ve never actually been to one of them. The décor is largely bland and soulless, the light fittings completely out of place, and the fake chalkboards adorning the walls seem just lazy – how hard would real chalk be? One of the chaps tells us that the atmosphere at night is much better, and I’m sure it is, but for who? My guess is that this is a place that attracts the kinds of people that Abercrombie & Fitch pretends to be aimed at: wealthy, polo-shirted American jocks who down steaks for fun and get drunk on a single can of lager.

This impression is compounded by the portion sizes. Yes I know I ordered the most stupidly big steak in the world, but everything here is jumbo-sized. We were pretty much full after the starters. Only my massive, insatiable greed spurred me on…

All of which is a shame because the food here is genuinely, surprisingly, delicious. We kick off with a hearty haddock soup (the kind of thing you wish your mama used to make) and delicately battered calamari (£10). These were accompanied by a really excellent Pouilly-Fuissé, although probably a smidge overpriced at £35.  And then, to the steak…

JW Steakhouse has a frankly bewildering array of different cuts, sauces and things. After some dithering and discussion with the extremely helpful staff, my elegant blonde companion goes for a  10oz USDA Fillet ‘Oscar’ – topped with lump crab meat, asparagus and béarnaise sauce. Whilst that may sound like overkill, it’s actually completely lovely – but then at £39 it probably should be. Sides of green beans, onion rings and mash may be superfluous, but man, they’re good too – the onion rings in particular have to be seen to be believed.

One of the waiters recommends a couple of glasses of Malbec, which are an excellent match and not too bad at £8 a glass – in fact the whole range of wines by the glass is pretty impressive, if unsurprisingly biased towards the New World. We also guzzle a cheeky bottle of Prosecco in lieu of pudding – after all that beef, we need something to inject us with enough energy to leave. Fizz thankfully works.

JW Steakhouse then is great for what it is – purveyors of wonderful steaks, and other hearty treats. But if I were in charge I’d gut the place, and go for an intimate clubby vibe with low lighting, dark Chesterfields, dogs, wellies and Sunday papers. I’d also halve the portions and the prices. And then I’d stuff myself here every single day.

25th October 2010.

www.jwsteakhouse.co.uk

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Tom Jeffreys