Mac & Wild, Fitzrovia

Spread the gravy

I remember when I used to be wild, snorting drugs off homosexuals on the tube on a Sunday. Nowadays going out in a bit of wind is about as wild as I get…ahhh January you were fun. At least I made it for a roast dinner at Mac & Wild in Fitzrovia this week. Och aye the noo.

This wasn’t my original plan. I was originally booked into 24 The Oval – however I deigned that 3 tubes lines would be pushing my luck with the incoming Storm Keeeeeeeeeeera, so we decided to go somewhere central, somewhere where I only had to rely on the Metropolitan line.

Have you ever considered that I am actually Mystic Meg?

Undeterred, I managed to get on a tube to Mac & Wild. I wasn’t letting a bit of wind and rain stop me – they even got my branch of the Met line working by time I got to the station. Hell, I was almost on time despite the chaos and destruction across London.

Bike blown over and some stray cardboard boxes from Storm Ciara

Mac & Wild are an appropriately Scottish restaurant (cheers for your weather) bringing gorgeous-looking venison and beef down to London at their two restaurants, one in Devonshire Square, the other in Fitzrovia. They also have a restaurant in somewhere called Lairg…yeah not on the tube map so I don’t know where it is either.

I think I’m right in saying only their Fitzrovia restaurant serves roast dinners, and that is where we were booked. A much smaller restaurant than I expected – for some reason I had imagined quite a sprawling place, but instead it was a cosy venue set over two floors – each floor with around 8 tables each, though I didn’t count.

Get blown

First a note of annoyance – the chairs were too low. My coat hanging over the back of the chair was draped all over the floor, and the distance between chair and table was a tad uncomfortable. The chair itself was less comfortable than a tube train seat.

Also, there was only one option for dinner – assuming you want a roast dinner, but please tell me you don’t read my blog then go and order fucking fish and chips on a Sunday.

Blissfully that “only option” was venison. I’ve only ever eaten venison a couple of times, once I totally fucked it up when cooking, the other time it was pretty damn special. And never on a roast – oooh a Roast Dinners in London first. I bet you feel blessed being one of the special people that know about my blog, don’t you?

I ordered a salad.

Did I fuck. Am I allowed to mention that someone agreed to suck me off the other night? Yeah, I can get away with writing that – she won’t read this and nobody will know who I am talking about. Yeah, actually a woman for a change. Alas, on the condition that I became vegetarian.

Get blowing

Don’t worry – I ordered the venison roast at a very reasonable price of £17.95. Reasonable for central London anyway. There was a roast burger too which would have been amazing on a Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday or Saturday – it wasn’t available though.

The meal took around 15 minutes to arrive. I nodded approvingly to myself upon arrival.

Of course, we had to ask for extra gravy – hoping that we might be blessed with more than a thimble. Alas – we were just gifted a second thimble each. Who would have thought that the Scottish would be tight on gravy?

The carrot was porn-star length, taking up an inordinate amount of space – vertically-sliced and rather crunchy. A tad more crunchy than my personal preferences but enjoyable for sure.

There was a small pile of charred cabbage, silky in texture and a little bitter to taste – not in a bad way. It seemed similar to Hispi though I’m not going to guarantee that it was.

Two tenderstem broccoli were perfectly cooked – charred again which really brought out their flavour.

On the side we each had a portion of cauliflower cheese. Perfectly tender cauliflower, a nice thick, creamy sauce which didn’t infect the gravy – it wasn’t that cheesy though, which for me was an imperfection but for my accomplice was a perfection. Horses for courses. Oh and breadcrumbs on top.

Tatties or titties?

Three roast “tatties” were supplied…wait…NO! Seven (7) roast potatoes were supplied. Well, perhaps not roasted. They seemed more like they had been fried – I don’t think you can hold it against Mac & Wild if so as it was a small venue, and may not have enough oven space…or even an oven.

They were pleasing enough.

Also pleasing enough was the Yorkshire pudding. More pot-style and the top half was a tad dry and bubbly in texture – though nothing sufficient gravy wouldn’t resolve. The bottom was gooey-soft and rather delectable – especially when matched with the venison and gravy.

And now to the venison which was an excellent choice of mine. Apologies to vegetarians but you are seriously missing out – this was pretty divine. A mix of more chunky slices which needed a little more chewing, and some thinner slices which just melted inside my gob. Possibly the nicest piece of meat I’ve had this year – and that is including comparing it to a rib-eye steak at Blacklock.

WHOA. Stop the clock. This is roast dinner 140. And I still haven’t mentioned Brexit. Shall we have a sing-song? Like a virgin, touched for the very first time. Like a virgin, with some gravy, on my nipples.

I was dressed quite similar. And pretty much rolling around on the floor in performative ecstacy with just how gorgeous the bone marrow gravy was.

At least in my head this is what I was doing – though I wasn’t imagining how good the gravy was. It was thick gravy, a fairly heavy bone marrow flavour (red wine according to my accomplice but I totally disagree) and everything you could want. Nipple-ticklingly good – one of the best gravys that I’ve had so far.

But a quick punch in the mouth – yeah I’d asked for yet another tiny thimble of gravy and was charged £3.50 for it. You could defend it easier if it wasn’t a thimble of gravy in the first place – like if there was sufficient gravy for a southerner.

Like a virgin at Mac & Wild

I once went to Berlin to do the whole Berghain thing – yeah didn’t get in – the lights were on, the music was playing but the door was closed. Didn’t even get the chance to be turned away. We found another club, but was told that we weren’t fucked enough – some people had been there for 3 days and we would ruin their vibe.

Eventually we found another nightclub, on the 10th floor of an office block – the guy on the door said, “€350 to get in”. We laughed nervously. He was having a laugh. Then he said, “wait, you do realise it is gay night?”.

They played “Like A Virgin”. All that way for techno and leather-clad men washing their penises in the toilet – and instead we got Madonna and drag queens.

So I made it to my roast dinner. And I even made it back home too without incident – though had I left the restaurant at the wrong moment you may never have heard about this roast.

What would you do if I died? Would you find out or would my silence just be a total mystery? Sorry, a bit morose – I should have a good 1,000 roast dinners left in me yet, though I’d like to think I’ll get bored of this blog before I’ve done another 1,000 roast dinners – hell I’ll be bored of London by then. Maybe I’ll marry a hot Spanish woman and become a flamenco dancer and can review tapas restaurants whilst constantly tapping my feet in rhythm. And the clackers – don’t forget the clackers.

When our plates were finally cleared – which took a good 20 minutes or so – another minor grumble, our waiter suggested that we should come back next Sunday to test again.

Well…I won’t be. But it impressed enough to go on my imaginary list of places that I will be going back to on a day other than Sunday. And assuming that you like venison, it needs to go on your to-do list too.

Blow me down

I liked the gravy, venison for the very first time. Highlights were unsurprisingly the gravy and the venison – both absolutely top notch, as you’d expect. Lowlights – the slightly uncomfortable seating and how long it took to clear our plates – nothing on the plate disappointed at all, even if there were potential minor improvements.

Service was broadly good apart from not bothering to clear our plates away, oh and laughing at me when I asked for extra gravy for the second time – GIVE US ENOUGH IN THE FIRST PLACE. 12.5% service charge, of course – though the bill pointedly pointed out that it was “suggested”.

Nod to the playlist too – Madonna, Prince and some other 80’s/90’s tracks. Alas, George Michael too.

I’m scoring it an 8.53 out of 10. My accomplice an 8.8. Yeah, that good – and it was a proper portion size too.

Next week I have no plan yet. No friends either yet. Unless…maybe I could be a vegetarian for the day…

You’re so fine, and you’re mine. I’ll be yours, until the end of time, cause you read my blog, and you share my blog…whoaoaoaoa.

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Spread the gravy

3 Comments

  1. One of the best yet .

    The highlight was the blow job but then £3.50 for a gravy was a diagnoses of a bad case of Anal Stretch or Sore Throat if you’re Australian .

    👍

  2. Was the blowjob a one-time offer or an on-going deal? Because I’d go veggie every other week for the rest of my life. But then I’ve been married for several decades.

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