The kitchen hums like an orchestra. Somewhere behind the gleaming counters of Chophouse, a flame crackles to life, slicing through the soft afternoon quiet.
The scent – smoky, buttery, faintly sweet, makes its way across the room before the plate does. It is not just lunch; it is theatre.
You can almost hear the kitchen exhale when Wayne Walkinshaw, Executive Chef, Radisson Blu starts talking about steak. His voice carries that quiet authority of a man who has burned, seared, smoked, and tasted his way through more cuts than most of us will in a lifetime.
However, his lessons are not about fancy knives or complicated recipes. They are about respect. Respect for the meat, the process and the moment.
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At the centre of it all stands Chef Walkinshaw, sleeves rolled, eyes fixed on the sizzle. A few steps away, a tray holds two cuts of meat. Both look similar, but as he flips one, the air fills with a deeper, almost caramel tone. This was our puzzle for the day.
The afternoon beef cut tasting at the hotel’s Chophouse feels less like a press event and more like a slow culinary meditation. It is the kind of experience Nairobi’s food lovers now crave.
“Ageing beef,” he explains as he brushes butter over the pan, “is like nurturing a story. You need time, temperature, and patience,” he says.
“It’s not just about what’s on the plate,” he says quietly, “it’s about the journey, from pasture to flame to fork.”
The magic is in the wait. Finally, the anticipated time – the moment of reckoning. I took the first bite.
“It carries the taste of open plains and sunbaked earth,” Chef Walkinshaw said.
When the Chef inquired about my preferred cut, I took another dive, and was fully convinced. I definitely liked the taste of the cut in the second platter.
“The first platter ‘hosts’ Kenyan beef, carrying with it the taste of open plains and sunbaked earth of Laikipia plains, while the second platter hosted an Australian cut from Tara Valley.
Watching the Chef plate, the meat feels like witnessing a craftsman at work — every angle, every brush of herb butter, deliberate and unhurried. He pauses to let the meat rest before slicing, as if allowing it to remember where it came from.
“It’s not just about what’s on the plate,” he says quietly, “it’s about the journey, from pasture to flame to fork.”
The Australian beef he said, was free-range, grass-fed, and raised in open pastures – flavours, and is shaped by distance and discipline. Yet, when set besides, he explained, Laikipia’s robust, untamed character, something fascinating happens.
“The contrast isn’t rivalry, it is conversation. One tells the story of open skies and rugged freedom; the other, of refined calm and temperate care, and somehow, both belong in the same Nairobi kitchen,” he said.
In a city that loves its nyama choma with an almost patriotic passion, this introduction of world-class Australian cuts does not feel foreign. It feels like evolution. It is Nairobi stretching its palate, moving from the roadside grill to the fine-dining stage without losing its appetite for authenticity.
The secret to a perfect steak
Start with patience, not fire.
“The mistake most people make,” says Walkinshow, “is rushing the heat. Steak needs to breathe before it hits the pan.”
Allow the meat to come to room temperature. That pause helps it cook evenly and lock in flavour.
Season like you mean it, but simply. Forget marinades that drown the meat. “Salt, pepper, and a good brush of butter can do more than any sauce if you trust the quality of your beef,” he says. The simplicity lets the natural flavour shine.
After searing, resist the urge to slice right away. “It’s like interrupting a good story mid-sentence,” he chuckles. Let the steak rest a few minutes. The juices settle back into the fibres, turning good into unforgettable.
“Cooking steak is like life. Give it time, don’t overcomplicate it, and always let it rest before you cut,” says Walkinshaw.
Plates were passed around, stories were shared. Someone mentioned how their father used to grill beef on a jiko every Sunday, while someone else wondered aloud if their next date night should be here.
It is in these little exchanges that the essence of food lives, not in the technical perfection of the dish, but in the way it brings people home, even when they are far from it.
The Australian beef may have travelled thousands of kilometers, but by the time it meets the Kenyan flame, it becomes part of something bigger, a fusion of craft, place, and memory.
Follow The Standard
channel
on WhatsApp
The kitchen hums like an orchestra. Somewhere behind the gleaming counters of Chophouse, a flame crackles to life, slicing through the soft afternoon quiet.
The scent – smoky, buttery, faintly sweet, makes its way across the room before the plate does. It is not just lunch; it is theatre.
You can almost hear the kitchen exhale when Wayne Walkinshaw, Executive Chef, Radisson Blu starts talking about steak. His voice carries that quiet authority of a man who has burned, seared, smoked, and tasted his way through more cuts than most of us will in a lifetime.
However, his lessons are not about fancy knives or complicated recipes. They are about respect. Respect for the meat, the process and the moment.
Follow The Standard
channel
on WhatsApp
At the centre of it all stands Chef Walkinshaw, sleeves rolled, eyes fixed on the sizzle. A few steps away, a tray holds two cuts of meat. Both look similar, but as he flips one, the air fills with a deeper, almost caramel tone. This was our puzzle for the day.
The afternoon beef cut tasting at the hotel’s Chophouse feels less like a press event and more like a slow culinary meditation. It is the kind of experience Nairobi’s food lovers now crave.
“Ageing beef,” he explains as he brushes butter over the pan, “is like nurturing a story. You need time, temperature, and patience,” he says.
“It’s not just about what’s on the plate,” he says quietly, “it’s about the journey, from pasture to flame to fork.”
The magic is in the wait. Finally, the anticipated time – the moment of reckoning. I took the first bite.
“It carries the taste of open plains and sunbaked earth,” Chef Walkinshaw said.
When the Chef inquired about my preferred cut, I took another dive, and was fully convinced. I definitely liked the taste of the cut in the second platter.
“The first platter ‘hosts’ Kenyan beef, carrying with it the taste of open plains and sunbaked earth of Laikipia plains, while the second platter hosted an Australian cut from Tara Valley.
Watching the Chef plate, the meat feels like witnessing a craftsman at work — every angle, every brush of herb butter, deliberate and unhurried. He pauses to let the meat rest before slicing, as if allowing it to remember where it came from.
“It’s not just about what’s on the plate,” he says quietly, “it’s about the journey, from pasture to flame to fork.”
The Australian beef he said, was free-range, grass-fed, and raised in open pastures – flavours, and is shaped by distance and discipline. Yet, when set besides, he explained, Laikipia’s robust, untamed character, something fascinating happens.
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“The contrast isn’t rivalry, it is conversation. One tells the story of open skies and rugged freedom; the other, of refined calm and temperate care, and somehow, both belong in the same Nairobi kitchen,” he said.
In a city that loves its nyama choma with an almost patriotic passion, this introduction of world-class Australian cuts does not feel foreign. It feels like evolution. It is Nairobi stretching its palate, moving from the roadside grill to the fine-dining stage without losing its appetite for authenticity.
The secret to a perfect steak
Start with patience, not fire.
“The mistake most people make,” says Walkinshow, “is rushing the heat. Steak needs to breathe before it hits the pan.”
Allow the meat to come to room temperature. That pause helps it cook evenly and lock in flavour.
Season like you mean it, but simply. Forget marinades that drown the meat. “Salt, pepper, and a good brush of butter can do more than any sauce if you trust the quality of your beef,” he says. The simplicity lets the natural flavour shine.
After searing, resist the urge to slice right away. “It’s like interrupting a good story mid-sentence,” he chuckles. Let the steak rest a few minutes. The juices settle back into the fibres, turning good into unforgettable.
“Cooking steak is like life. Give it time, don’t overcomplicate it, and always let it rest before you cut,” says Walkinshaw.
Plates were passed around, stories were shared. Someone mentioned how their father used to grill beef on a jiko every Sunday, while someone else wondered aloud if their next date night should be here.
It is in these little exchanges that the essence of food lives, not in the technical perfection of the dish, but in the way it brings people home, even when they are far from it.
The Australian beef may have travelled thousands of kilometers, but by the time it meets the Kenyan flame, it becomes part of something bigger, a fusion of craft, place, and memory.
Follow The Standard
channel
on WhatsApp
By Jayne Rose Gacheri