Whatever

It's taken over two years to finally get around to going to this little meat den called 'Pitt Cue' in Soho, London. The only time I've attempted it before, it was shut, this time it was open and busy, very busy.

After sitting through a long and incredibly stressful care ride and nursing a God awful hangover from the night before, I felt I was in need of an alcoholic beverage, if only for the use of the possibly mythological 'Hair of the Dog'.

I jumped out the car and let my brother go and park up somewhere. I went inside to meet another mate and grab a drink, preferably beer. The only beer on tap was called 'Whatever' or so I was craftily duped into believing. Whatever literally meant whatever they had on at the time, not a specific beer. Using my discerning palate and noticing an empty keg of some unlabelled Meantime beer, I determined that the beer was in fact Meantime's London Pale Ale. A beer I knew only too well from an experience that left me sightless and on the floor several months ago. That may sound bad, not at all, only that I drank far too many pints and ended up paralytically drunk.

The ground level bar was buzzing, full of people drinking and waiting to be seated. We stood around waiting for a table to free up for us and us to go to the small downstairs dining area and indulge our senses in delicious meat goodness. Chris was complimenting his current appearance as a cross between a Victorian gentleman and a modern day dandy with one of my favourite cocktails, an 'Old Fashioned'. Lorenzo, my brother was drinking a flagon of cider out of a half pint glass whilst I drank half after half of whatever.

We were drinking in the bar for what must have been over an hour. I had no real way of knowing as I'd failed to notice the time of our arrival. All I do know was that it was a long time and I'd manage to polish off three halves and was ready for more. We had a small bowl of the scratching which were amazing, salty, meaty crispy and crunchy. They left a longing for more so made me even more impatient about going down to eat.

I'd occasionally glance over at the specials board while we waited. As I wasn't paying for my part of the meal I decided I'd add the Mangalitza tartare to my order. I imagined it was finely cut raw pork but had no idea of how it would be served. It wasn't until my name was called and we went downstairs that I noticed it had been marked off the board, it was out.

The boys knew what they wanted, I was quite confident but thought I'd consult the menu one last time. That was it, I knew.

With the tartare off the menu I had the grilled sourdough with dripping instead. It was hot, greasy, and very salty but fantastic. It was a shame it disappeared so quickly, like a David Copperfield illusion, it vanished. I wasn't that upset about it as I wanted to save valuable space for the main event. I went for the pulled pork and bone marrow mash combination like my bro. Chris had the Mangalitza sausage in a bun with the bone marrow mash.

When the food arrived, I suffered not from the usual food envy I have become accustomed to. I couldn't have made a better decision. The meat was smoky, meaty, sweet and sticky pulled pork that was melt-in-the-mouth tender. The mash was creamy, salty and smooth with a rich gravy and a tiny dollop of bone marrow that I would have been unable to detect had I not seen it. For me the highlight was the house-made pickle. There were two, one looked like gherkin and the other one like cabbage or onion. It was sweet and sour, salty and spicy and still crispy, everything that a perfect pickle should be like, and some.

To finish the meal off we all had a Pickleback shot. A shot of Bourbon chased with a shot of the house-made pickle juice. The pickle juice went as a perfect companion chaser for the sweet and smoky Bourbon.

The food was heavenly and the portions although small were adequate, the pickle alone is enough to venture out and wait an hour in the bar for. The beer changes but I would imagine it would never be one to disappoint.

All the details you need on  Pitt Cue (don't forget to buy the book)

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