Grand Grill

The Habtoor Grand’s newly opened South African steakhouse instantly signalled its intentions from a bustling open kitchen adjacent to the entrance 1 Reviews

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There are men who fish and there are fishermen. The former is a dabbler, a day-tripper – a mere amateur. He’ll sit there in a puce polo shirt and flannel slacks, complaining about the conditions until a tiff with a tadpole makes him drop his rod and splash his deck shoes. The latter is a professional – defiantly braving the crashing waves and unforgiving elements to wrestle with behemoths of the deep, the like of which Jules Verne couldn’t fathom. Well, it’s exactly the same when it comes to eating steak. Some of us pick, prod, dither and flap, and fail to make a dent in a filet mignon that wouldn’t eclipse a tiddlywink. But there are others who would grab a bucking bull by the horns just to start gnawing on its behind. The Grand Grill – only a week old on our visit – is what separates the two.

The Habtoor Grand’s newly opened South African steakhouse instantly signalled its intentions from a bustling open kitchen adjacent to the entrance. The commotion of sharpening knives, clashing pots and sizzling braais dissipated as we walked into a serene dining room that was half wine cellar, half Oxbridge library. Amid the stately mahogany finishes, a beaming waiter handed us the menus, which opened to a preposterous preamble about ‘belonging’ and ‘togetherness’. But I had already decided that I belonged to a primordial ancestry of bone-sucking savages, and that I wanted to get together with a piece of meat that could start a civil war.

So, while my friend’s traditional bobotie yielded a beguilingly tasty banana curry ice cream next to slivers of near-inedible chewy lamb and a mound of meatloaf; my boerewors sausage with polenta and chakalaka sauce was as firm and ruddy as Ernest Hemingway’s sunburnt forearm, and offered a peppery preface to the ensanguined epic that was to follow. When my friend opted for the seafood espetada, I wondered whether he was a chum or just a chump. But then the swinging skewered stack of butter-soft scallops and pink salmon arrived, and it was only his distressingly mushy prawn that reaffirmed my craving for cow.

This materialised in the form of a brawny 500g Australian rump steak, which may as well have ambled to the table by itself, sat on my lap and bellowed ‘moo’ in my ear. It was so big and bouncy that, even if I’d only eaten half of it, I could have curled up and gone to sleep on the remainder. The tender, rare flesh wasn’t so much cooked as impassioned. And every blood-swelled chunk seemed to prod at the hirsute chest of some metaphysical prehistoric carnivore deep within me.

Yet even after demolishing a block of beef the size of Johannesburg, I was able to tackle a zesty honey-drizzled cheesecake. And as my companion calmly dissected his overly sweet cinnamon pear crumble, I could have sworn I felt my incisors growing. But I had no cause to worry. After all, this was The Grand Grill – I was among professionals.

The bill (for two)
2 x mineral water Dhs36
Boerewors Dhs35
Traditional bobotie Dhs45
Australian rump steak Dhs180
Seafood espetada Dhs150
Asparagus Dhs18
Polenta Dhs18
Mushroom sauce Dhs8
Cinnamon pear crumble Dhs30
Honey biscuit cheesecake Dhs30
Total (including service) Dhs550

• Previous reviews
  • 13 July,2009- reviewed by Daisy Carrington
  • 30 March,2009- reviewed by Time Out Dubai staff
  • 26 March,2008- reviewed by Time Out Dubai Staff
  • 04 February,2008- reviewed by James Brennan
  • 12 March,2007- reviewed by Time Out Dubai Staff

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