Date Night Friday: Hawksmoor Seven Dials

Paul occasionally gets bees in his bonnet. He will desperately crave a food and eat versions of it at every opportunity until finally he has one that meets his mental image of it and then he can move on to something else. He's been ordering big portions of fish in restaurants for over a year because nothing is quite what he had in mind. For the last couple of months he's been wanting "A really big steak", so I've been buying him various steaks, none of which have quite satisfied. So on Friday he took matters into his own hands and announced that Date Night was going to be at Hawksmoor Seven Dials.

We had a wander about the less-crowded bits of Covent Garden - which is looking much more attractive these days, with some really up-market shopping - and then sat at the bar for a drink. Paul's co-workers had all buggered off at 4pm, so he'd had a chance to do some uninterrupted work and scrutinise the drinks menu. It's unusual for him to choose a cocktail, but something about the vaulted ceilings, exposed brickwork and brass lamps give the bar a speakeasy vibe, which cries out for a mixed drink. He had the Hawksmoor Collins - Beefeater 24 gin, Campari, orange bitters and lemon, lengthened with soda.  I had a Shipwreck sour - Shipwreck cider brandy, cognac, ginger wine and lemon. Neither drink put up a fight, and I think I could have quite happily propped up the bar and had several more drinks and some snacks, but our table beckoned.

I toyed with the idea of having a couple of starters, but as the aim was for Paul to get the big steak of his dreams, we shared a 1kg prime rib, with side orders of beef dripping fries, salad and roasted mushrooms.

The steak was absolute perfection. Beautifully cooked, beautifully rested, and carved into nice big chunks. I think Paul's eyes actually rolled back in his head as the really big steak itch was scratched. The fries were perfectly fine, but an error of judgement: we were caught by the lure of beef dripping and didn't notice on the menu that these were going to be fries, not chips. Next time we'll have to remember to order the triple cooked chips instead. The salad was, of course, the salad of English lettuce and herbs which I maintain is the best green salad in the world.

We both ordered glasses of whiskey to finish on - Paul had bourbon, I had rye. Which led to the only glitch in (the charming, accomplished, attentive) service for the evening, as Paul's drink was delivered to the next table. We were able to retrieve it with no harm done. The smooth, caramelly whiskies were just the thing with the justifiably-famous salted caramel rolos. And actually, I wonder if whiskey isn't under-appreciated as a drink match for chocolate?

Edited to add: Paul was very disappointed that I didn't mention the wine. It was lovely. In my old age I am developing more of a taste for the French wines, and I thoroughly enjoyed this.