Last night I went out for my dinner at The Gilbert Scott tucked in the corner of St Pancras Station. This was an annual meal, always in a different place to coincide with a strategy meeting I was attending.  The walk down Euston Road was more like an event from an Ironman event in that there were no crossings but lakes to traverse between high ground aka pavements. I love the fact that the St Pancras building survived to be resurrected as it where unlike the abomination up the road at Euston.

Last week I had been working in Dublin and as is my want when bored in an hotel room I flicked channels on the TV and fell into Master Chef. Now, I have not watched this since Lloyd Grossman refereed it so I was surprised to see that it was working chefs competing rather than cook at home types and Marcus seemed s decent enough chap with no room for poor cooking or presentation. The penny dropped that he or one of his chefs would be cooking my tea on 15th December so I watched a couple of episodes to whet my appetite.

I was quite excited to taste what was on offer and eventually the ‘soup’ arrived – more an amuse bouche but very pleasant then the terrine that was also first class. I was slightly off my mark when tasting the Malbec though as it had a hint of cork that was obvious when I was served from the next bottle. I wonder if anyone else noticed?

The Malbec was chosen to go with the hanger steak and a great lump of steak arrived on the plate sliced into 3 chunks and the obligitory steak knife was produced but my, what an abject sorry excuse for a steak this was. The steak knife struggled to cut through the gristle and it was inedible. Now this is not some dodgy cafe serving meat of an unspecified origin or indeed species that might have had me on my guard but hey, this was a meal being knocked out by a team working for a top notch chef. Shoe leather would have been a more tender option. To be fair an a la carte replacement option was offered but at that stage of the night when everyone else had been served it was beyond repair. More vegetables were asked for instead but I wondered if chef had the hump with the feedback as what arrived was exceedingly over-salted. What a pity. Dessert was good and so was the cheese course.

Will I ever step foot inside this Wareing team run cafe again? I doubt it. I don’t doubt that the man can cook himself but how can he afford for what must be the culinary equivalent of scrag end of skunk to be served up as a festive meal option. If I had been judging the duty chef’s work in a Master Chef event then this person would end up washing dishes.

To give credit where credit is due we were not charged for the abominable servings but that was hardly the point of the evening was it?

Mrs O faired better stuck at home with scrambled eggs.