It’s certainly not a mark of uniqueness to rave about a love of steak. Especially in our meat-obsessed capital, with its roll call of pop-ups and food fads.
Writing about food on a weekly basis for many years, I’m not immune to trends either. I reached another level of “beef geek”, for example, when I found myself completely absorbed by the Hawksmoor cookbook, with its tips on how to source the best cuts.
Yet even the most sirloin-fixated will agree that it’s rare to find a truly excellent steak for a tenner. Yup, £10. Two pints in the West End (or even, to our horror, at the Lord Stanley the other day).
Sure, there are decent onglets to be had locally for around £15 (try Market on Parkway, the Fat Butcher at the Grafton, Kentish Canteen). And there are, of course, some delectable more expensive cuts too (Argentinian fillet at La Patagonia, or the Dedham Vale sirloins at the Bull and Last, both around £24). And let’s not even get onto the merits of the superb Hawksmoor (£30+).
But a tenner is a different matter altogether. And yet that’s the USP of Flat Iron, which opened last year on Beak Street in Soho, and boasts of “craft butchery, excellent provenance and quality of meat.”
Fair enough. It’s the usual no-bookings joint, candle-lit and industrial. The name is the American term for the cut known less fashionably as butler’s steak in the UK: the shoulder top blade, boneless and fat-less. Here it’s the signature dish and is always priced at £10. Moreish chips are £2.50, as are salads and sides.
The meat is sourced from Warren’s Butcher in Cornwall, and on a specials board they list their underrated cuts like beef belly, onglet, bavette, and chuck centre. On our visit there were also some juicy-looking burgers, the patty minced on site fresh daily.
It was our first time, of course, so we just did the flat iron. And one word: bullseye! The meat is perfectly pink – as befits its medium-rare fleshiness – and was surprisingly flavoursome: clean, salty, a touch metallic, a touch gamey. And the cute meat cleaver (see pic, above) is hardly needed: we preferred to hand-dunk each thinly-sliced piece in bearnaise (another £1) – all buttery-eggy unctuousness.
A downside? Other than queuing (we went off-peak and walked straight in), the tables are small, almost cramped. Some seat six, so be prepared not only to share, but to hear exactly how the couple next to you are getting on (and even, if you’re unlucky, the subtlest of burps).
But the best ten squid steak in London? Undoubtedly. So if there’s a next branch on the horizon, Flat Iron folks, it should really be in Kentish Town. OK?
