‘My theory is that all of Scottish cuisine is based on a dare.’ – Mike Myers
There are some that after a long day or week at work will go to the gym. Others might let off steam by ranting and raving. There is even a cohort who, dare I say it, go for a run. We all have our happy place. Our safe place. Somewhere where the troubles of the work-a-day world run off our shoulders, as if they’re suddenly coated in Teflon. My happy place is a perfectly cooked steak, a good drink (single malt if its been a really terrible day, red wine if its been slightly less awful) and somewhere that serves it, that has the “Cheers” factor (where everybody knows your name).
For me, this place is Boisdale of Canary Wharf. This is my therapy with a side order of thick cut chips and unctuous bloody mary ketchup. From the first time I came here, I knew they were going to be the inheritors of a significant proportion of my pay packet. The fusion of Scottish food, great music and a spectacular venue that manages to feel cosy and expansive at the same time is the perfect antidote to what ails you.
When there are so many things to recommend, its hard to pick a favourite, but if pushed, even with their haggis (if you ever wish to eat haggis outside of Scotland, come to Boisdale, it is the best I’ve ever had. Ever), I would put my favourite down as their steaks. Perfectly cooked, served with a variety of sauces and sides, there is nothing so cathartic as a Boisdale steak. I have yet to have a single steak there that hasn’t put a smile on my face and on my soul. Once satiated with steak, assuming you haven’t filled up on moreish snacks such as their spicy Scotch quails eggs, you can even partake of a cigar in their huge walk in humidor, indoor smoking room or 1000 ft sq heated smoking terrace.
I say this without reservation. Fire your therapist, cancel the councillor. Go to Boisdale instead. I dare you.
Neil Churchil – Bishopsgate