steakhouse

Pulperia, Birmingham.

This post finds you from somewhere over the Alps, on RyanAir’s flight from Pisa to Hell. There are drunk Brits (I may be one of them) who have little regard for pandemics, and Italians in masks who don’t know whether to fear the British or Coronavirus more. Two rows in front a slurring man with red wine stains around his mouth made the rear of the plane aware that he was a medic. Behind me a posh lady is scolding her partner for their poor choice of rental vehicle. Despite this, we’ve had a lovely trip, drinking lots of great Tuscan wines and eating far too well. If you are reading this as one of the many people who offered suggestions as to the best steakhouses Florence offers, then thank you for the suggestions but they were dutifully ignored. I find steak boring. There, I’ve said it.

Part of the problem I have with them is how badly they are generally cooked. I cook a serviceable one at home, but my modest cooker struggles to get up to the temperature required and imparts none of the smoke that the best steaks have lingering in the background. The ones in Birmingham, well, let’s say they mostly disappoint. Go find the street food vender Beef On The Block if you want a good bavette, but those within bricks and mortar never hit the mark consistently. Whilst the rest of the country have Goodman’s and Hawksmoor, we have three branches of Miller and Carter. Enough said.

Praise be to Aktar Islam for changing that. He is a man of detail – anyone who has eaten in Opheem will know that – so I had an inkling Pulperia was going to be good. It’s better than good: it’s the steakhouse the city deserves; one which is notionally set in Argentina yet finds itself orienteering around the world to wherever the best produce is. It’s on these menus, amongst the wet aged beef from Argentina, you find rare breeds and dairy cattle whose life has been more than purely raised for meat. All in a dining room which is unmistakably Aktar; that juxtaposition between the masculine heavy textures and the feminine floral displays. The room is as good as Brindley Place has ever seen.

We begin with three starters; chorizo has a gentle smokiness reminiscent of gammon with tomatoes that are far too tasty to be British, all dressed up to the nines in a herby and garlicky chimicurri. Soft sweetbreads kissed with char from the grill so a delicate touch can still be applied over flames. These come with chicory and a burnt lime chimichurri that is bold and smokey whilst still retaining the soul of the condiment. The empanadas – those Argentinian pasties – are good, with the spicy beef better than the chicken. They each need a little more filling inside them, though the romanesco style red pepper dip proves great to dunk the excess pastry in.

Those steaks. Let me tell you about those steaks. In the effort of transparency, we don’t get the steak we order, with the kitchen sending out large two pieces of Holstein Fresian – a rare breed dairy cow aged up to 18 years and listed here under the title of ‘basque cider house’ steak. A kilo prime rib here (for two, unless you’re my girlfriend) will cost you £85 and is worth every penny; delivering a depth of flavour unlike any we are used to, full of umami and beefiness. It’s the ultimate in beef, up there with Bar Nestor though without the terroir, cooked over high heat until the Malliard reaction kicks in and then rested until the juices disperse inside the ruby red interior. It doesn’t need the bone marrow and Malbec sauce, but that sauce is so very rich and so very good. With this we have fries and carrots roasted with chicken butter and the best version of humita I’ve ever tried. Seriously, creamed sweetcorn is the best friend of steak. You heard it here first.

We share a serviceable chocolate fondant for dessert, along with two bottles of Malbec, a couple of cocktails, and finish by making two more bookings to come back. Those looking for a cheap steak should book elsewhere; Pulperia is a celebration of the cow, not a trip to Beefeater. Those on a budget should aim for the Argentinian experience; a fillet with fried egg, Malbec sauce and that humita will come in a touch over £30. But why should you when you can experience some of the best beef in the world? We’ve waited a very long time for Birmingham to have a steakhouse of this quality. It’s time for you to enjoy it.

9/10

We visited during a soft launch and received a discounted bill.

Steak this good needs the best in travel. Time for to take A2B

Steamhouse Bagels, Birmingham

I went into town to meet Claire for lunch recently. I was early, so I softened her up with a present from a shop she loves, went for an espresso in one coffee shop by her work, and then the same in another. We hadn’t decided where to go for lunch; I had in my head a grander feed; one that weighs heavy on the stomach for some time, washed down with a glass or six of crushed grapes. Claire wanted a bagel from the fairly new place around the corner from her office. A text debate ensued whereupon I made the case for various restaurants and she said she wanted a bagel. We compromised in the way that young lovers do and go for a bagel. It was busy and inexpensive. I wore my blogger cap to lunch (it is a cap that says ‘blogger’ just in case anyone is unsure), preceding to dissect the bread and its filling in a way that only us attention seeking twats do. Claire pointed out that it’s a fiver or so, and that had she not worked for a generous business that supplies lunch for its staff for free, she would be here all the time. It rendered my opions invalid and is probably all you need to know about Steamhouse Bagels.

So you can close down the browser now and move on with your life if that’s what you really want, or you can hang around for my verdict and score. It’s pretty good there; not ground breaking, but functional and affordable. The bagels are pleasingly dense and chewy, baked on site and fresh for the busy lunch that has them queueing out of the door. The fillings are nice, if a little bland. A chicken bagel lacks promised heat but has a generous amount of mozzerlla, whilst the one with falafel and other healthy-ish ingredients is quickly destroyed by the girl who so desperately wanted to eat here. They do cakes which look great which we don’t have room for, though probably should have for greater longevity of this post. Given that my office has only the world’s worst Subway for company, anyone who is able to walk here from their work has it lucky. Chaps, should your girlfriend ever tell you that she don’t mind where you go for food, she’s lying. She knows exactly what she wants, and the liklihood is that it is a far better choice than yours.

7/10

A2B love a bagel, I think. They also like getting me from A to B.