This is still my stuff.

I took it out of the ’fridge early, rubbed on some oil and black pepper, and left it to breathe for a while. The plan was to make the best approximation I could of Jack O’Shea’s advice by giving this cross-cut onglet about 90 seconds on each side, as close as I could get it to as high as the grill would go, and then letting it rest for a good five or six minutes. It wasn’t the thickest slice I’ve seen, so I was a little concerned about over-cooking it; as it turned out, had I been in more squeamish a mood today, it probably could even have borne another 30 seconds each side, but the result was perfect for my currently vampiric mien, and the flavour - obviously largely due to the careful maturing at the ’Pig, though enhanced, I do believe, by Mr. O'Shea's tips - was quite extraordinary: a deep, broad beef, smooth and round, with a tangy edge of offal iron. This cut’ll get nowt but praise from me.

There was a seriously cadaverous feel to this onglet I had from the usual place last week. Something about the texture, the sinewy, raw viscerality of it, spoke to me of torture, death and decay. Bloody tasty, though.

Black pepper sauce, Chez Gérard Brasserie, Chiswick High Road. You don’t see »onglet« steaks that often in the UK, it’s a cut you find more often in France (though it seems they’re called “hanger” steaks in the USA, because they’re cut from the part of the diaphragm that hangs between the last rib and the loin) - but they’re worth a chew when you do, ’cos they’re very tasty. It’s the marbling, y’see.

The Brasserie isn’t elaborate - don’t get me wrong, I like it; it’s just not in the league of other nearby establishments like La Trompette (and doesn't claim or intend to be) - but it has a good selection of beef on the menu, and the people working there appear pretty reliably to know how to source and cook a very decent bloody steak. This one, with peppercorn sauce and frites, is about 12 of your English quid, which really isn’t bad, considering its tastiness index of 17.6.