Match Bar & Grill Dinner Review

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Match Bar & Grill Dinner Review


If you don’t eat red meat or enjoy graphic retellings of someone who does, maybe you should read a different article. I’m not cow mad by any means, in fact, I rarely cook it and a juicy hunk of something bloody is not my ‘go to’ on any à la carte either, but since Match Bar &Grill promotes its meat dishes as some of the best in the city I feel it my duty to indulge. Avoiding the 400g option, I opt for a more modest 250g Wagyu Rump, grain fed and direct from sunny Queensland. Presented Argentinian-style – bare bones, sealed to perfection, a smattering of greens and not a vegetable in sight – this is one rump I did not want to see the end of.

You know those meals when you forget you’re in public and you just keep moaning and rolling your eyes and wiping the pleasure beads off your forehead? It felt weird to be having one of those moments in Match Bar, surrounded by backpack yielding tourists and drop-ins from surrounding hotels. Lacking a little in atmosphere, apart from the consistently pleasing indie soundtrack and the confusing décor of hanging suitcases, Match boasts a great view and helpful staff, but would not have been my first choice for a CBD meal. After that Wagyu though, I felt I needed to reassess. “If someone from out of town asked my where to get the best steak in the city centre, I’d send them here,” says my dining companion, a woman who essentially has a masters degree in gastronomical science and is a devout steak junkie. We compare our roast trumpeter fillet special to the Wagyu and realise that they are Rihanna and Beyonce respectively, since the fish, although tender and flavorsome, really can’t come close to that outrageous rump.

Another surprise win came from our salt and pepper calamari served with hummus and lemon-infused salad, a dish which prompted us to label the kitchen crew Lords and Ladies of the Leaf for their consistent presentation of delicate side salads which exploded with refreshing and original flavours. Take your wealthy sugar daddy/mummy here for a monthly iron injection and save a smidgen of room for your salted caramel and chocolate pot.