Eyes on the Tomahawk and other tales at Smith & Wollensky

What does iconic taste like? Turns out it’s juicy, with crispy skin and buttery meat, and it hardly needs mustard or salt. You plunge your fork as is and understand why Miranda Priestly in the movie The Devil Wears Prada consumes it for lunch. (Some of us encountered it in High Fidelity or American Psycho.)

Now, this legendary Manhattan steakhouse, founded in 1977, has branched out from its original corner on 49th St. and Third Ave. in NYC to key cities such as Las Vegas, Chicago, London, Taipei, and, more recently, to 26th St. and 9th Ave. in Bonifacio Global City.

It’s here. We’re here. We hear sizzling. Our forks are glinting.

International steakhouses abound in Metro Manila, impressive ones at that, especially in BGC, so what sets Smith & Wollensky apart?

“The other steakhouses here are good—I like competition—but they’re small,” answers John Hardyment with candor and confidence. He is the chairman of Granville Restaurants Philippines Inc., which has been bringing restaurant brands across Asia for decades. He says, “You don’t get the ambiance or atmosphere a larger steakhouse can give.”

Smith & Wollensky BGC occupies two sprawling spaces: the dining area itself for the Tomahawks and such, as well as a stacked bar that features Grammy-nominated pianist Bobby West holding court with his jazz cohorts. (Mr. West is expressive on the keys and conversant when it comes to jazz legends such as Miles Davis and Herbie Hancock. Ask him about “Inventions and Dimensions” and Herbie’s stint at Blue Note.)

“Our pianist is probably the best in Asia,” Hardyment tells me, then pauses thoughtfully. “No one else of his caliber is playing in any steakhouse in the Philippines.”

It is apparent how Smith & Wollensky’s Manila flagship, managed by Bayshore Pacific Restaurants Inc., doesn’t pander to local tastes. It simply arrives, fully formed, in green-and-white livery, with a menu built for power brokers and food lovers alike (or a starving writer such as yours unruly). Its calling card is USDA Prime beef, dry-aged 28 days and prepped in-house.

We are served a menu that spotlights the American Wagyu Swinging Tomahawk (carved tableside) with complementary bites such as sautéed mushrooms with chorizo, creamed spinach, whipped potatoes, and foie gras rice. Oh yeah, we have enough red wine to knock out a trade delegation or a jazz ensemble. Before partaking of the Tomahawk itself, we sample dry-aged New York and bone-in ribeye, and some sinfully delightful bone marrow.

Hardyment talks about meticulousness and the attention to detail when it comes to craft: “We buy the best beef in the US, fly it in, cut it ourselves, dry age it ourselves. You’ll taste the difference.”

For a man who began in the shipping business and entered restaurants “for fun” 30 years ago (“I just wanted a place to go to the bar and hang out”), he talks about steak with religious fervor.

“To make a great steak—not just good, but great—you need a proper broiler. Ours is the Rolls Royce or Ferrari of the industry,” he says. “You get this insane high heat, and that gives you a crust. That crust locks in the juices and flavors. That’s what makes it tender, moist, unforgettable.”

And the crew? “We’ve hired the best guys in the Philippines. Brought in trainers from the US and Taiwan. The minute you taste one of our steaks, you’ll get it.”

Miranda gets it; we get it.

For Hardyment, the decision to open in Manila wasn’t automatic. It’s a culmination of 45 years of Hardyment’s quiet love affair with the Philippines. “Even five years ago, I wouldn’t have brought Smith & Wollensky here,” he admits. “But the demographics have grown. People are more affluent, they travel, they appreciate. I started seriously thinking about it two years ago when I saw local restaurants packed. Filipino food, Italian, whatever—all well done, all full. That told me something had shifted.”

Still, Hardyment emphasizes that each location adapts in its own way. “It’s not cookie-cutter,” he says. “We’re bringing in world-class standards, but we’re also hiring local talent and responding to what people here appreciate.” He adds that the body may be American, but the soul is something to be built together.

But even steak moguls have soft spots. Asked what his last meal on earth would be, he dodges the obvious. “I won’t say steak because you’re expecting me to (laughs). Honestly, probably lamb. My mom’s lamb shank. She used to make this lamb shank that I crave. And she passed away many years ago, so I haven’t had it in many years. But if it’s your last meal, you want to remember something.”

You’d probably not soon forget the meal you’ll have at Smith & Wollensky. The steakhouse isn’t trying to reinvent the wheel. It’s importing a very specific kind of American excellence—muscular, unpretentious, exacting—and slotting it into BGC’s cosmopolitan culinary circuit. If you ask ChatGPT what its thoughts are, it would say—sans its beloved em dash: “Smith & Wollensky is not a disruptor. It’s a declaration.”

As Bobby West and his band do a reading of the jazz standard All of Me, swingin’ and cookin’ declaratively, the slab of Tomahawk (tender, moist, unforgettable) seems to be singing it to me: All of me… why not take all of me?

Well, your dish is my command.