Remember the last time meat was au courant on the dining scene? It centred around pop-ups, street vans, BBQ festivals, garish fonts, liberal use of the word ‘dirty’, and lots of bearded men talking way too enthusiastically about charcoal.
It seemed only right that its subsequent counter-trend swung towards the herbivorous, and countless vegetable visionaries proved that plant-based fare is more than capable of holding its own.
But now meat is having a moment again, except this time, to use the vernacular, it has matured nicely.
Last week’s unveiling of the World’s Best Steak Restaurants featured eight London entries, four of which are in Mayfair, including Wolfgang Puck’s Cut at 45 Park Lane which made the top 10.
Critics have salivated (figuratively) over the veal chops and cotê de bouef at Bouchon Racine in Farringdon, Claude Bosi is serving brawn, sweetbreads and not-for-the-faint-hearted andouillette at the similarly French accented Josephine in Fulham, the soon-to-open Ibai near St Paul’s is focusing entirely on Basque beef cuts, and food writer Tim Hayward’s new book, Steak: The Whole Story, was hailed by Angela Hartnett as being “an encyclopedia anyone with a pair of tongs should read.” That it’s 30 years since St John first introduced us to the ‘nose-to-tail’ concept seems fitting too.
And then an invitation arrives as if to rubber-stamp the trend: would I like to attend a meat masterclass at The Newt in Somerset’s brand new butchery. Ever the willing participant, I hop on the ‘Glastonbury Express’ to Castle Cary and soon find myself donning an apron.
The Newt might be known as one of the best country escapes in the land —and it is — but it is also much, much more including, but not limited to: a working farm, a cider plant, a sweeping orchard, a farm shop, and a horticultural wonderland. Just last week it sponsored the Chelsea Flower Show and wowed crowds with a fully recreated Roman garden.
But the estate’s latest addition is the butchery. As it happens, the spa here is fashioned from the former cow shed, and you’d be forgiven for mistaking this cow (carving) shed for a spa. It’s minimal and modernist — all clean lines, curved corners and wood panelling — and flooded with natural light. It was first described to me as “an architecturally designed cathedral of carcases,” and, well, yes, it’s basically that.
Its aim is to help guests and visitors to get a broader understanding of provenance and process and to foster a deeper connection, quite literally in this case, with the food that we eat.
One of the signature sights of a visit to these particular Somerset fields are the roaming British White cows, the largest herd in the UK. Comparatively slow to put weight on, the breed fell out of favour with farmers and came close to extinction, but here 120 are calved each year and The Newt promotes British Whites around the world.
“We treat them better than the guests,” jokes Stetson-sporting head farmer Cameron Knee, as he walks us through the herd’s roundhouse home where they are making good use of the rotating massage brushes.
Back at the butchery, our genial host and mentor is head butcher Lloyd Tucker, a man who knows more about beef than Drake and Kendrick combined.
He and his team used to be squirreled away in a corner of the crowd-pulling farm shop but are revelling in their spacious new HQ where they work and now host these masterclasses too.
Apart from the cows’ swift and humane dispatching, which happens at a nearby family-run abattoir, everything happens here on site. Tucker shows us the temperature-controlled room where carcasses are hung for three weeks, every last detail captured on a digital tag displayed on each — it feels more Damien Hirst installation than chiller unit. Every part of the animal is used, as you’d expect, and the various on-site restaurants adapt menus according to what cuts are available that week.
Then it’s time for Tucker to show us the ropes, effortlessly dissecting a sizeable fore-quarter of beef while explaining the basics. I’ve sliced and diced my fair share of meat when cooking, but this is a much more precise art. “Let your knife follow the natural shape of the bone,” he instructs as I attempt to trim myself a prime côte de bouef. It’s not gory, or bloody, more therapeutic than anything and — when I finish up with something presentable to take home — extremely satisfying.
We convene for lunch on the sun-soaked terrace and tuck into some of Tucker’s handiwork: a resplendent rib-eye grilled to perfection, served with fresh-from-the-garden herbs, the best British tomatoes I’ve ever eaten, and paired with a sublime cider made just metres away. “People seem to be really interested in what we’re doing with our produce here,” he says modestly.
So if you can’t get a table at those prime-cut-serving restaurants any time soon, a Somerset day trip to learn how to butcher your own comes highly recommended. I’ve found that turning up with your hand-carved wares is a great way of one-upping boorish ‘meat guys’ at barbecues too.
The Newt is hosting numerous beef and lamb butchery classes throughout the year. thenewtinsomerset.com
