So Friday night was full of wine and song, well certainly the wine and at 3am it was time to turn in. On my mind as I drifted (span) off into the Land of Nod was Barbecoa as the next morning I was to try out the new brunch menu and being a huge fan of Jamie’s restaurant I was impossibly excited. Therefore, hangover + Barbecoa brunch = cured! ZZZzzzz.
My head was thumping as the missus parked outside – the single yellow lines outside Barbs are the perfect off-peak solution for those of you too hanging to share your transport with the public – and the four of us galloped in; well three galloped in, one sort of meandered. My two boys had joined us as well and were erm, highly energetic that day.
So we were sat in one of the really comfortable leather booths and Ewan, a giant of a waiter and a true gentleman, talked us through the new offerings.
For those of you unaware of the concept, Barbecoa is Jamie’s open fire restaurant smack-bang next to St Paul’s Cathedral in the New Change complex. It has wood-fired tandoor ovens, open grills and fire pits to give your protein that amazing charred umami kick.
Missus went straight for a Barby Mary, this iconic take on the Bloody Mary adds Jalapeno Vodka, bbq sauce and rub as well as a beautiful slab of bacon and a pickled gherkin to your tomato juice. Spicy and reviving, (watch Jamie make it here). I had tea.
Ewan steered us in the right direction to match the food with our moods – it was now noon so perfect for meat. I went for the Short Beef Ribs, shredded meat mixed with a salsa atop a beautiful naan bread and poached eggs – oh mercy it was divine. Just the right pink tenderness with a perfectly charred chew from what is a essentially a classic slow-cooked cut. The missus took 15-minutes to plump for the Pulled Pork, the boys went for the Lumberjack – like a full-English, well half-English as it was a child’s portion, but with the volume turned up. They also, ridiculously, ordered pancakes with bacon and maple syrup. With the pancakes came a strawberry butter, apparently a staple of the American brunch table, it’s quite something I can assure you and the only way to describe it is pink butter that tasted entirely of strawberries. For sides we indulged in wood-fired mushrooms and the black pudding cake with a super-hot habanero dressing.
Oh and we got brought a newspaper as well – it was Grand National Saturday so alongside millions of other men, I became an expert for the day with the form-guides laid out in front of me. So with St Paul’s coming to life through the huge window and all London beginning to get its mojo back, no sign of bickering from the kids, the missus grinning from ear to ear and, thanks to Barbecoa and Head Chef (the jolly good egg Sebastian La Rocca) I was cured, and Saturday was saved! And I hadn’t even had a coffee yet……
