Why all this Daniel Defoe nonsense? Because the revelations here are not the dirty secrets of the food industry, but that the industry itself is a self-constructing giant, beneath whose feet we could all easily be crushed. We knew this, of course, but it needs the human scale (and is there anyone more humanly scaled than Gregg Wallace?) to throw it into relief. ‘I’ve been in the food industry…’ Yes, yes: you said.
Greedy Cow is one of the few places in Mile End not serving sweaty donners, fried chicken or cups of terrible coffee. For this, as well as its commitment to carnivores, it should be applauded. The menu offers burgers every which way – from kangaroo to wagyu beef – and great variety in its cuts of steak. In the upstairs dining room, cowhide furniture and bovine prints on the wall lay it on a bit thick, while cheesy muzak (or should that be moozak?) nearly pushed us over the edge. Maybe they were trying to relax the wagyu some more? If so, it did the trick – it tasted as a highend burger should. A plump fillet steak with a piquant peppercorn sauce was near- perfect, although rarer than requested. Desserts were solid; a chocolate fondant with a molten centre and a creme brûlée torched at the table for kicks. Where Greedy Cow really excels, though, is in its service. Our warm waitress seemed genuinely interested in her customers. Grab a seat in the rustic restaurant downstairs where the tackiness is left behind, chew the cud with staff and you'll be in for some enjoyable meats out east.
Venue says: “Now serving our 'greedy breakfast', Saturday and Sunday 8am-noon.”