A beef-lover's guide to home delivery

Sommer #01-02 The Sail 2 Marina Boulevard Singapore 018987 Tel: 8771-5001 Takeaway/delivery: 12pm to 2pm; 6pm to 8.30pm Tues to Sun (24 hours notice preferred) To order, go to tabletop.sg/sommer or sommerdining.com

The Gyu Bar #01-08 30 Stevens Road Singapore 257840 Tel: 9150-3164 Takeaway/delivery: 12pm to 8.30pm daily. To order, go to thegyubar.com.sg

Anju 62 Tras Street Singapore 079001 Tel: 6612-1172 Takeaway/delivery: 12pm to 3pm; 6pm to 8.30pm Tues to Sun. To order, go to anju.com.sg

Clos Pasoh 48A Bukit Pasoh Road Level 2 Singapore 089859 Tel: 9114-0045 Takeaway/delivery: 11.30am to 8.30pm, Wed to Sat. 11.30am to 3.30pm on Sun. To order, go to clospasoh.com.sg to check the menu and WhatsApp the restaurant.

THE question for meat lovers isn't so much about where's the beef, but why it always seems to take the form of burgers, wagyu dons or dry-aged steaks on the plancha. Granted, the latest sport for Japanese beef fans is to espouse the joys of discovering exotic (read cheap) off cuts to guide the dining conversation away from why they can't afford A5 sirloin in the first place.

Then again, if you're craving a different way with beef in this third week of dining in, allow some chefs to step up with their own creative takes on this meaty matter.

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Sommer

You know it's lockdown time when Beef Wellington steps out of a "top foods that won't die in a thermal bag on the CTE" manual and appears on home delivery menus. You have beef that stays intact in a shield of mushroom duxelles, with added protection from a layer of puff pastry.

Of course, it tastes best when hot and crisp out of the oven, but given the times, some leeway is expected if it arrives weeping just a little at the bottom.

But Sommer's Beef Wellington (S$180 for a set meal for two) is well-trained to keep its emotions hidden within its duxelles. There's only a slight sagging in this deft creation from head chef Lewis Barker who keeps scaling fine dining heights at his fledgling flagship, but has come down to earth with Phase 2 comfort food, albeit an upscale version.

The star of the menu comes in two options - for two or four (S$320) in an all-in-one package, which includes a rich, meaty-gelatinous ham terrine countered by sweet-tangy piccalilli, and supplemented with just-baked brioche that you smother with an included jar of konbu butter.

The Wellington itself is deceptively small - measuring maybe six inches from the tip of finger to wrist - lolling around in a larger than necessary aluminium container, which gives hope that if you leave the pastry long enough it might grow to fit.

Not that we're waiting. There are minor instructions to heat up the sauce and microwave the creamy potato mash and vegetables. If you're patient, you can pop the Wellington in the oven, but it works fine without.

Still slightly warm, the pastry is more tender than flaky and cuts open to reveal the thick mushroom mixture and pink, juicy sous vide tenderloin.

Fat slices are necessary to keep its shape and there's satisfaction in slicing through the bouncy flesh and mopping up the accompanying meat jus with it.

It's filling, so there's enough to go round especially after the terrine and bread. You'll want some room for dessert of vaguely boozy set cream laced with macerated cherries and airy chocolate chunks. Nice enough, but we prefer the airy pops of choux puffs (S$22 for four) filled with passionfruit cream.

All in, a satisfying British repast that we won't hope for another dining lockdown just to have it again, but it's a beefy treat to be enjoyed right now.

The Gyu Bar

If you must, there are credible if not good wagyu dons to be had at The Gyu Bar, which has every reason to live up to its name as a purveyor of beef of Japanese persuasion. But if you prefer something that's lighter on the stomach and possibly the wallet (depending on your definition), the eatery's Shabu Shabu or Sukiyaki set (S$158 each) breaks the beef and rice monotony with a healthy meal you can swish to your heart's content.

You can rent a hotpot from them if you want (S$40 for delivery and pickup) but you're better off digging out your own or just cooking it on the stove.

We prefer the cleanness of shabu shabu but if you're undecided and plead with them over the phone, they might throw in a bag of sukiyaki sauce for you to try.

Everything comes neatly packed with the precious 250 gm of sliced sirloin safe in an ice-filled box. A large plastic container of Japanese greens (nappa cabbage, shiitake mushrooms, carrots, leeks, tofu, konnyaku noodles and very sweet corn) and dips come along with it.

There's also Hokkaido rice and two litres of dashi. If you're having sukiyaki, there's a one litre bag of sauce which needs to be diluted with dashi according to how high your salt tolerance levels are.

There's truffle edamame - a nice change from the usual - and very good crisp shrimp crackers to nibble on before you start cooking proper. The dashi has more depth than the savoury water we have come to expect of Japanese steamboat, but the secret weapon that makes this shabu tick is a potent dip that you can make with the supplied condiments.

A magic mix of minced garlic, spicy radish, green onions, ponzu and chilli oil lifts everything you dip into it - from the plain boiled greens to the seven wafer thin slices of miyazaki gyu. The beef has decent marbling, most likely a good A4 or a not-so-well- massaged A5.

But the meat holds up well even when cooked through - smooth and mildly sweet. Done sukiyaki style, it's slippery good when coated in beaten raw egg and savoured with rice.

One thing's for sure - the meat won't go very far. You can bulk up the meal by adding a don - we tried a wagyu uni chirashi bento (S$54.20) which is serviceable fare of cold grilled beef pieces topped with a dollop of uni and sprinkled with ikura. But the shabu shabu is a refreshing change of pace. You could save money and make your own, but sometimes you just want someone else to do the work.

Anju

This modern Korean upstart opened in Tras Street not too long ago and already has a two month waiting list, so it's only in extenuating circumstances like these that you can get a taste of what you've been missing out on.

In keeping with our beefy theme, we spy galbi jjim (S$78), which seems almost exorbitant given the medium sized chilled bag of short rib stew that arrives. We have to order rice (S$3) separately, and it's a must because the chewy grains studded with barley are a perfect foil to the sweet savoury broth and melting soft meat.

It's a straightforward homestyle stew that uses expensive boneless short rib, cooked in a braising liquid seasoned with shoyu, mirin, nashi pear and a hint of sesame. Balls of carrot and potato are also perfectly firm yet tender.

Sold in convenient chilled packs, you just drop it into hot water for a few minutes and you have a quick if pricey meal on the table.

Order some baek (white) kimchi, as the pickled cabbage instantly adds a new dimension to the sweetish beef. While you're at it, get the non-meaty cheese hogam jeon (S$28) - a cheesy, crunchy prawn and potato pancake that stays crisp long after it's turned cold.

It's neither fancy nor complicated cooking, but if you've anointed yourself an honorary Korean, it has another step closer to the cuisine of your imagined motherland.

Clos Pasoh

Whatever you call it - Italian bollito misto, Spanish cocido or French pot-au-feu - boiled meat has never inspired much confidence or imagination. In an unequal marriage of meat and water, it's the latter that sucks up everything good about the union, leaving the former spent and dry. But you can expect chef Louis Pacquelin of the brasserie Clos Pasoh to remedy the imalance with a rich potent braise sweetened with root vegetables and savoir faire.

Already on Clos Pasoh's regular menu, chef Pacquelin's unique pot-a-feu (S$119) involves fork-tender beef cheek, short rib and oyster blade attractively presented sans broth in a takeaway container. You're meant to boil the separately packed broth in a pot and steam a dimsum basket of dumplings and nuggets of foie gras on top of it. After several minutes, serve the cooked dumplings separately while the thickened, intensely savoury broth is poured over the meat.

The jury is out on the French xiao long pau with its overly thick skin but pleasant, vinegar-tinged minced meat stuffing, although the foie gras is firm and plump. But the pot-au-feu is a rib-sticking affair with the chunks of meat plumped up by the intense, umami-filled gravy/broth that is, incidentally, even better the next day.

While the pot-a-feu is a regular on his menu, chef Pacquelin's home delivery first is a series of pies or tourtes, including a tourte de joue de boeuf (S$89) - delicate pastry encasing a chunky mixture of beef cheek, onions and carrots simmered with a light whiff of cinnamon and spices. Understated on its own, its personality blossoms with a generous drizzle of deep-flavoured red wine sauce.

As far as brasserie cooking goes, chef Pacquelin eschews heaviness for a lighter approach, but as his beefy creations show, he packs in his fair share of substance.