Have y'all watched Yellowstone? In his opening speech to announce he is running for the governor of Montana, Yellowstone Ranch's John Dutton says, "I am the opposite of progress. I am the wall that it bashes against, and I will not be the one who breaks."
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In a world of plant-based protein meats, lo-fi natural wines, and waiters whose man buns have their own Instagram accounts, Charcoal Grill is the John Dutton of the Canberra restaurant industry.
And to put that into perspective, Kevin Costner, who plays the role, was seven years old when Charcoal opened in 1962. There has been just a few owners during its lifespan, but just like the family farm, you never really own The Charcoal, you simply take care of it for the next generation.
From the day it opened in the same year as the Cuban Missile Crisis, Charcoal has always been a hub for politicians, journalists and lobbyists, commercial property developers named Dimitri (who has his own table), corporate cowboys and hustlers. My dining companion and I first came here in our university days. For weeks, we would save our tips (including coins) from working in a nearby café and indulge in a bottle of late '80s Henschke Mt Edelstone or a Cullen Diana Madeline. When paired with a big juicy steak with bearnaise sauce, student life could not get much better.
Interior wise, there are no chalkboards, white subway tiles or Lucida Sans typography fonts printed on a recycled paper menu that changes by the hour, the chef's mood or whatever has been found in the nearby forest. It's a simple room, with mirrors and empty bottles of great vintages, hardtop tables, upholstered burgundy-coloured chairs down one side, and an engine room of a grilling kitchen down the other. And the menu never, ever changes. The tunes of Van Morrison, mixed with a bit of Elton John, float through the dining room, and the crowd have come here for steak.
But salt and pepper calamari comes first and is crispy, crunchy, succulent and also in spades. This is a 10-gallon sized entree that would go down very quickly in a bunkhouse full of cowboys. It's not the breakthrough creative dish of the year, but it ain't supposed to be. Garlic prawns come sizzling and what you see is what you get. Half a dozen or so prawns baste in the hot oil, hissing in garlic and shallots. This establishment certainly will never be sued for false advertising.
My sidekick orders tournedos bearnaise ($66) which is served replete with jacket potato topped with sour cream and chives, alongside plain steamed vegetables. My scotch fillet 400g ($66) lands at the same time as a side of pan-fried onions ($8) and grilled mushrooms ($13) and it's time to loosen the belt buckles. 400g is probably double the size of a steak that we might cook at home these days, so we could have just split one of these. But we certainly don't want to show any weakness. We probably should order different sauces, but does anything really challenge bearnaise as the greatest steak sauce of all time?
Bearnaise is a magical concoction of white vinegar infused with escallots, black peppercorns, tarragon and white wine, which is then blended with clarified butter, egg yolks, chervil and more tarragon. It contains both water and oil which, as most ranchers will be aware, don't get on well together. So in order to make a sauce out of them, you need to add egg yolks which hold the tiny particles of oil and water at arm's length. To work, the oil needs to be added last with a lot of energy to form tiny particles, usually in a small stream, while whisking vigorously. Half of learning how to make it is learning how to fix it. A bit more vinegar would give this one the Rip Wheeler knockout punch, but the texture is mighty fine and it slips perfectly like a warm blanket over these massive chunks of cow. We wash all of this down with a 2018 Charles Melton Grains of Paradise Shiraz which is full bodied, opulent and classic in style. Not unlike my mate Dimitri, the developer.
Our waitress Debbie, who is also the restaurant manager, worked here 30 years ago and has returned to the fold recently. It kind of feels like we are at her house tonight so we don't wish to offend her by turning down dessert. The vanilla creme brulee ($17) has a velvety texture and a toffee on top that crunches like first tracks in a frosty paddock. Chocolate mousse ($17) is bold and rich. It's kind of like Beth Dutton. If you have too much of it, you certainly don't know what's good for you. I can only manage half of it and nobody flinches.
We finish with a couple of Galway Pipe ports for old times' sake and toast to the glory days of yesteryear. Time has stood somewhat still for more than 60 years at Charcoal. Whilst progress abounds in other parts of this city, some things are best left unchanged.
Charcoal Grill
Address: 61 London Circuit, City
Phone: 62488015
Hours: Tuesday to Friday, noon til 2pm, 5.30-9pm. Saturday, 5.30-9pm
Chef: Devendra Adhikari
Noise: No problem
Dietary: A few options
