chaplin's grill hurlingham

Tuesday 10 September 2013.

The thing about surprises is that they have the uncanny potential to end in disaster, in elation or somewhere in between.  When a BMW driver actually indicates his intention to change lanes using the flashy lights on the side of his car by nudging the lever-thingy near the steering wheel either up or down, for example, is a good surprise.  When you’re sixteen kilometres into a half marathon and you happen to stand on a full water sachet packet and it explodes into a convenient, single, high-powered jet of water that shoots right up your shorts and cools down your nethers, is a combo surprise; and taking a sleeping tablet and a laxative at the same time will lead to a bad surprise.

September Steak Club saw the fragrances of spring blast into action, tree buds burst into little leaves, hibernating snails attack my vegetable garden and also saw us follow a suggestion to try out Chaplin’s Grill in Hurlingham.

I was the last to arrive by a significant margin and as the purpose of this blog is to embrace the entire experience of the evening, rather than just to report on the food, there was a short recap session courtesy of Pete who explained that the answer to any family related matter, sensitive or otherwise, regardless of age or gender of respective family member, is to harden the f*ck up.  After getting me up to speed, I quickly perused the drinks menu.

 Ive ranted before about beer.  There simply isn’t a commercially available beer that I can feel anything more for than toleration.  When craft beer is made available I fail to understand why anyone would drink anything else.  Chaplin’s has a great selection of beer, if a little biased toward the &Union brand, but it still makes me feel warm and fuzzy when I can savour a beer and fly a bird in the face of mediocre SAB products at the same time.

It was a quiet evening, especially as we sat under the stars while a few other tables grouped closer to the plethora of Charlie Chaplin regalia adorning the walls of the inside section.  Charlie Chaplin was fun.   He had character and was a bit goofy.  This was a far more interesting and welcoming selection of décor than at The Local Grill which has portraits of bovine varietal side head-shots.  A bit like when you see a TV ad for Verimark’s latest carpet cleaning machine and they show you the amazing before and after results.  Before the steak was being eaten from a pool of blue cheese sauce on your plate, it was connected to a meandering cow in a field and this is what its head looked like.

I ordered my drink through, it must be said, a competent although boring waitering duo.  It’s a fine art, waitering.  You need to engage with the client, make them feel comfortable like they’re sitting on their own couch in their undies, but looked after enough to feel that they’re receiving great service and value.  These guys were good, just not great.

There are some things in life that are pointless.  Doilies, indicator lights on BMW’s, having thirty extra cushions on your bed, warm beer and being given sharp, sturdy steak knives at Chaplin’s Grill.  Just bringing cutlery near the beautifully char-grilled lumps of meat meant they obediently fell apart into bite-sized chunks of melting pockets of beefy flavour.  My rump was superb.  Probably the best rump Ive had this year – smooth and distinct while you navigate the bulk of it with the occasional sharp spike of chargrilled flavour until you take in a little nugget of fat, then you have an eruption of sweet, buttery lava that smothers everything in your mouth and you have to stop yourself from falling off your chair.  It was that good.  I don’t think there anyone who didn’t have a similar experience, and we explored the boundaries of the menu, from straight up fillets to prime ribs to a carnivore platter.  This restaurant deserves to be fully booked every night of the week. 

The meat comes from the best two abattoirs in South Africa – Chalmar Beef and Greenfields Free Range.  Regardless of which you choose, you will not be disappointed.  The owner and chef, Rainold made sure we were had a superb evening with an interesting conversation about grappa and homemade beer and how beef could be certified differently, depending on what soundtrack is playing over the loudspeaker.

Apart from the stark realisation that Vaseline should only be used for a specific and limited set of uses, other topics of discussion included how smuggled food tastes better, muzzle velocity, yellow fever and silverback gorillas.

We ended the evening with a fond and warm handshake from our host at Chaplin’s, firm in the knowledge that Joburg Steak Club would be back and I reckon all of us independently too.  So far Chaplin’s is the surprise of the year – a good surprise – finding a hundred bucks in a seldom worn pair of jeans kind of good surprise.  Put Chaplin’s into the ring with Wombles and Local Grill and you will be hard pressed to choose a better meal between them, but hands down, Chaplin’s offers a better experience.  

Steak Club heads east in October. 

Until we meat again..