Pitt Cue Co (awww, it’s just as informative as a HK website)
1 Newburgh Street, Soho
London, United Kingdom

??? – not on their website but no bookings anyway. They do declare that they’re “not trying to be cool” but they “just can’t think of a better and fairer system than first come, first served”.  They only have thirty seats so fair fuckin’ play, I guess.

We got out at £50ish for two mains (which each come with a side) and two cocktails.

The deal:
A friend saw that were having fuck yeah vacation times in the UK and said we should check out Pitt Cue Co. Being a bit overwhelmed with being on holiday, I was a bit noncommittal and said “Yeah ok, we’ll try” and he pinged back instantly “Don’t try, just do”.  With that resolute conviction, we rolled in on a Saturday night.  While we waited, we sucked back some FUCK YEAH cocktails while admiring their diverse bourbon collection and watching Barman Beardy bustin’ his chops as he continued to produce some serious shit hot lookin’ cocktails.  I have all the fucking feels for the Newport Sour – bourbon, lemon juice and port, a tart smokey affair because I’m just not into that sweet shit.

Straight down to business, we ordered the pulled pork with a side of bone marrow mash and the smoked ox cheek with a side of green chilli slaw.  Everyone knows that when you’re on holidays you should half-heartedly attempt to eat vegetables at least once every three days, even if it’s slathered in spicy, chilli fuck yeah mayonnaise. This BBQ noms was fucking amazing – while the pulled pork was tasty, all my base belongs to beef, with the smoked ox cheek being a triumphant fuck yeah. Slow smoked, all the connective tissue was as broken down as a tired ass party girl on a Sunday morning, with this majestic oxen motherfucker taking a rest on top of a slice of toasted bread, which soaked up any errant meat juice. Waste not, want not my sustainable Eco warriors.

A special fuck yeah shout out to the bone marrow mash which combines two of my favourite things – cause when the dog bites and the bee stings, I simply remember a few of these tasty as fuck things. After this fuck yeah side, I was definitely not feeling too fucking sad.

Service was efficient and friendly as fuck.  Loved witnessing the imminent meltdown of a staff member when “Don’t Stop” by Fleetwood Mac came on for what was presumably not the first time during his shift and he remarked “If I hear this fucking song one more time…” and one of his homies told him he had no soul (perhaps a reference to his magnificent red, though soulless hair or his inability to appreciate Christine McVie’s pleas to consider the future) and to effectively cool his goddamn jets.

The Pitt Cue Co BBQ homies have clearly thought everything out when it comes to their food and booze – it’s always the little things that give the game away.  Yo Pitt Cue Co, I totally fuckin’ noticed how finely you chopped your goddamn spring onions in my slaw and mash – attention to the motherfuckin’ details, you bad ass BBQing mofos.

Fuck yeah BBQ!

6-10 Kau U Fong Street (below Gough Street)
Sheung Wan, Hong Kong

+852 2337-2078

HKD340 for two people (no service charge).  Ribs combo = HKD130.

The deal:
Planned a weekday evening nom with Ms Two Serves and had a serious look at your life, look at your choices afternoon moment when I had to make an emergency stop in the work toilet cubicles to sew the buckle from my pants back on because I’d managed to burst the little fucker straight off (no prizes for guessing what could have caused that).  Who ignores such a PLEASE STAHP sign from the nomming universe and backs themselves straight into an American BBQ joint for dinner?  Red hot tip – me. 85 South came recommended by two of my American homies but I was scared though, because I always remember this fuck no nomming BBQ incident at Blue Smoke (now closed) which I went to after being told by a TEXAN that it was ‘as good as home’.  I mean, COME ON, how can a Texan recommendation on BBQ be wrong??

A surly, dour man at the counter couldn’t have looked any more unimpressed with having to actually fucking take people’s orders.  But no service charge, so I guess you can deal with it or GTFO.  It’s casual, you sit on long benches (the guy next to me had to pull the bench out to get in and he said to me ‘No, don’t worry about standing up’ and I felt like saying to him ‘Yo homes, I had to do emergency stitching to keep my dignity intact at work today – you might not be able to move that bench with my fat ass sitting on it’) and eat from paper containers.  Side note – I fucking loved listening to the two Aussie boys next to us who inbetween smashing some mac n cheese, fries, pork and splitting a jug of beer were very matter of fact and so Strayan in how they said at the end “That was a bit punchy for a school night”.  

We snacked down on some dry rubbed ribs, pulled pork, slaw (vinegar base), fries and fried okra.  Fried okra and the fries were a fuck yeahhhhh.  The ribs were tasty, but I’ll be real, the ribs were a bit dry.  Ms Two Serves got the aptly named ‘Big Boi Plate’, so I stole some of her pulled pork which was a fuck yeah too.  Ms Two Serves then walked me through the finer points on how to mark up errors on an architectural drawings with red pen, squirting ketchup liberally to indicate how the entire plan she reviewed today was seriously fucked.  To make sure our poor hearts didn’t get all the love, we made sure to wash down all those fuck yeah golden fries than with some diabeetus inducing Sweet Tea and Arnold Palmers (Lemonade/Sweet Tea combo). Let’s just say I keep a sewing kit in my desk drawer in case of future pants busting incidents.

The verdict:
It’s not going to be the best BBQ you’ll ever have in your life – but for a weekday, casual nom….Fuck yeah!

%d bloggers like this: