I’d like to start this post with an apology for my continued crappy pictures. You’d think by now I’d have sorted my shit out and been prepared enough to constantly have my Pentax KS1 to hand, y’know, if I was any kind of real blogger. But alas I haven’t and as such this post is littered with badly lit images from my Samsung S4. Luckily my writing is far superior to my pictures so at least 1 out of 2 ain’t bad.
BUT ANYWAY…I recently enjoyed dinner out at Flat Iron albeit a lot later than I’d hoped for, the reason being…
Well, no reservation restaurants + the least patient boyfriend in the whole universe = a disaster for new dining experiences.
I know right; poor, little, hungry Harry.
But I’m serious. Many of the newest, hottest restaurants (Dishoom, The Pitt Cue, Burger & Lobster) have point blank refused to allow us to book a table in advance which means that my boyfriend has point blank refused to join the (naturally) hour long wait for a table. He doesn’t care who you are! He’s not faaaacking waiting.
So the only option for me is to a) find a new dining buddy who’s prepared to sit it out or b) wait until the hot, new restaurants aren’t so hot & new and the queues are gone. Luckily option A presented itself a few weeks back and I took full advantage of the opportunity by dragging my new pal* Zoe to no reservations & Soho favourite, Flat Iron.
(*My sister and I met Zoe at Ceremony festival last Sept and have clung onto her for dear life as a new ‘London Fwweeeend’ since all our original mates upped and left to get married / buy houses / have babies / leave the UK for pastures new. Honestly making new friends over the age of 23 is hard. Worse than dating I recks, I mean where’s the tinder for friendship??? god that would be such a creepy app wouldn’t it?)
We arrived and were welcomed by a lovely hostess. Like seriously lovely. She told us it would be a long old wait which we’d expected. We told her we were prepared to wait as long as it took! She put our names down on her list, handed us a buzzer and told us to come back in 50mins or more specifically when our buzzer sprung to life.
We made our way downstairs to the bar and got cracking on the cocktail list.
At just £5 / £6 a pop I was already starting to like this place…oh here’s that bad photography I was talking about…
If you squint you can almost read the cocktail menu that this grainy picture is of.
It was busy downstairs with other waiting patrons but we managed to squeeze on the end of a table. We supped our cracking cocktails and began a momentous catch up.
My advice for any of these fandangled no reservation restaurants is to go with someone you haven’t seen for an age. That way you can spend the lengthy wait sharing all the news, barely noticing how time is flying by until your buzzer screams into life and scares the shit out of you…
Back upstairs we oggled the menu whilst grazing on a free portion of popcorn (at least I think it was free – I don’t remember checking the menu to see if we’d be charged?)
We then begged and pleaded with our waiter to let us have the bone marrow croquettes from the bar menu downstairs.
Thankfully he was happy to oblige us and I’m pleased to report they were worth his extra effort – thanks dude!
Then it was time to order our mains. Flat Iron’s signature dish is the erm, Flat Iron streak (well duh!)
And it’s a bargain at just £10 – I mean a tenner for a steak in London is unheard of. What’s even more unheard of is waygu steak for e i g h t e e n p o u n d s. I mean duuuuude. WAYGU.
It’s so pleasantly cheap that it’s almost worrying – I mean you get what you pay for right?
Well yeah, normally you do. In this case though you get all you’d hoped for and more. I plumped for the waygu (which was on the specials menu) because well, obvs! And it was sublime. Deliciously tender and full of flavour.
My pal Zoe…(^^^^that’s her wielding a meat cleaver at me – FYI, the meat cleaver is your knife…I know right, how fucking quirky and cool is that?!)…had the beef belly or something like that (also on the specials menu) and although it was nice the waygu definitely trumped it. Soz Zoe!
I mean, can you imagine how good this ^^^^ would look if I actually had my DSLR with me and wasn’t incredibly embarrassed to pull it out and photograph like a real food blogger?
You’d probably be dribbling down your chin onto your keyboard or hand as you read and looking a bit well, thtooopid. So really you should be thanking me for my bad quality pictures! Yeah that’s it, I only take badly lit pictures so you don’t end up looking like a dribbling idiot.
You. Are. Welcome.
Accompanying our mains we had creamed spinach, greens, salad & chips.
It was really quite a spread and we were seriously happy customers.
That was until we asked a new server whether we could have the doughnuts from the downstairs menu for dessert. And not just any old doughnuts either, rhubarb doughnuts.
Unlike our pervious guy who went above & beyond this new guy told us he wasn’t “allowed” to go and get them but we were welcome to trudge down their ourselves.
So we asked for the bill, paid up and headed into the night. We had very indulgent ideas of popping into Bob Bob Ricard for dessert but sadly there were no tables available for us.
Seems I’ll just have to go another time – who’s game?
As for Flat Iron, suffice to say it was worth the hype and wait. Very reasonably priced steak in a relaxed setting. I’ll be back in the future (mainly because I just saw pictures of their burgers over on their twitter & I’m a sucker for a juicy patty) and perhaps this time I can convince my boyfriend to wait it out with me?
Thanks for reading,