Beauty and the Beef…Wellington: A review of Gordon Ramsay at The Carnaby in Downtown Disney
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Anytime you eat Beef Wellington, you have to take a moment to appreciate the sheer amount of work that went into it. It’s not a trivial task.
First, you need to sear the tenderloin. Then brush it with Dijon mustard. Next there’s the duxelles, which requires chopping and cooking mushrooms until all their moisture evaporates. Finally, the tricky part: wrapping puff pastry around the whole thing and baking it without overcooking the beef.
But I realized something after the second bite of my $73 Beef Wellington at Gordon Ramsay’s new restaurant in Downtown Disney — I just wasn’t into it.
No, there wasn’t anything wrong with it. The beef tucked inside the core of the pastry log was, by all measurable metrics, cooked to the perfect shade of crimson. And the pastry crust that cocooned it like an oversized sausage roll was shiny and golden.
Even the red wine jus that was poured from a carafe onto my plate by my server with some degree of ceremony was tangy, sweet and glossy, painstakingly reduced by someone to the thickness of syrup.
But I already knew why I wasn’t a fan: a Beef Wellington wants to simultaneously be an empanada and a steak dinner (two of my favorite things), but is, unfortunately, neither. Instead, it exists in that awkward gray overlap of the Venn diagram where I can’t hold it in my hand to get a satisfying bite, but I also can’t enjoy it as a proper filet mignon. This may entirely be the fault of the duxelles, whose pasty, pond-scum texture dampens the pastry and mucks up the caramelized parts of the steak.
So rather than getting the best of two dishes, I end up with something that reminds me I would’ve been happier just eating either another empanada or a filet on its own. Beef Wellingtons, in my opinion, are as gimmicky as a turducken: a lot invested in time and effort, but only yielding middling returns.
Yet it is, without doubt, the dish that has helped Gordon Ramsay become the richest celebrity chef in the world.
According to a 2022 post on the Instagram page of the Las Vegas branch of Hell’s Kitchen, Ramsay had sold 1.5 million Wellingtons just at that one restaurant alone. Take into account the years since, the $73-per-plate price, and the fact that Ramsay has 88 restaurants scattered throughout the globe, and you do the math. It’s no wonder that on the ground floor of this new Downtown Disney restaurant, there’s a poster of him posing with his literal cash cow.
This was actually my second time eating Ramsay’s Beef Wellington.
My first encounter was two years ago at his other restaurant in California, Hell’s Kitchen at Harrah’s Resort in Valley Center, 40 miles north of San Diego. My family went there to celebrate my parents’ milestone anniversary. That evening we all dressed up for dinner, took selfies inside the glass-encased wine room, and then ordered 12 Wellingtons. When my dad posted a photo of us next to a picture of Ramsay on Facebook, a cousin in Indonesia asked, “Did you try the Beef Wellington?”
That’s when it struck me. My cousin — a girl who lives on the other side of the world, in a developing country that doesn’t have a single Gordon Ramsay restaurant — freely associated Ramsay with his Beef Wellington as though it were fried chicken to Colonel Sanders. His TV persona, proliferated through thousands of hours of him being the Simon Cowell of food, precedes him.
That was why I felt duty-bound to try the Wellington again at Gordon Ramsay at The Carnaby. Because like my Indonesian cousin, if you only know Ramsay through his shows, you’re going to want to know what his food, especially his signature dish, is actually like.
But I regretted my decision as soon as I saw a silver trolley being pushed around the restaurant. This, it turns out, was the prime rib cart, the same kind used at the Savoy Grill in London, one of Ramsay’s less “hellish” restaurants. And at $68 a plate, not only was the prime rib cheaper than the Wellington, the 12-ounce slab is carved tableside, served with lashings of horseradish cream and au jus. Most importantly, it came with all the trimmings of a proper British Sunday roast. Yorkshire pudding, roasted carrots and creamed spinach were offered in generously portioned ramekins that would easily feed two people.
And with the fish and chips with the potatoes triple-cooked, and the bangers and mash using Cumberland sausage, I saw that Gordon Ramsay at The Carnaby wasn’t just another carbon copy of Hell’s Kitchen. It was a British greatest hits album.
Meanwhile, the actual greatest hits of the Beatles, the Who and the Stones acted as the soundtrack of a dining room designed to evoke groovy 1960s London that was caricatured in the opening minutes of “Austin Powers.” Prominently featuring Twiggy, neon miniskirts, and the Union Jack, the theming could, if required, fit in like a puzzle piece into the U.K. World Showcase at EPCOT.
And since his customers will also be families on Disneyland vacations, not just Anglophiles or “Hell’s Kitchen” fans, Ramsay hedges his bets with a kid’s menu offering chicken tenders and mac-n-cheese. He makes other adaptations to fit his audience. Arugula is referred to not just by the British term “rocket” but also as “arugula” on two different salads.
There’s even nachos and a so-called “pea guacamole.” The latter was a literal mash-up of British mushy peas and avocados, blended together to make a smooth purée, garnished with pea sprouts and drizzled with spring onion oil. Eaten with the same kind of shrimp chips that are now served everywhere at Disney Parks, it was spectacular.
But because this is still a Gordon Ramsay restaurant, sauces will be poured tableside from a separate carafe at every chance it can be done. There was the saffron beurre blanc that accompanied a slightly undercooked roasted Norwegian salmon.
And, of course, the toffee sauce that our server poured over the warm date cake and ice cream to complete the sticky toffee pudding. The dessert was the best dish I’ve had here so far — that is, until I go back and try the prime rib, which I still believe to be the best value on the menu.
And perhaps that’s the most surprising thing about The Carnaby. Aside from the Beef Wellington, the price points aren’t outrageous. You can conceivably get dinner for two with an appetizer, two entrees, and a dessert for less than $100.
The only thing prohibitive are the reservations. As of this writing, the restaurant is booked out through September. That may be a temporary hurdle. The management is purposely limiting access during this soft-opening period to get the kinks out. When the official grand opening occurs in the coming months, breakfast and lunch service will be added, possibly accommodating walk-ins.
But the real story here isn’t that Gordon Ramsay landed at Downtown Disney; it’s that Downtown Disney itself has now become the most exciting destination for dining in Orange County. Ramsay is just a case in point that the roster of eateries here is an enviable and eclectic list of who’s who and what’s hot.
Right now you can stroll with a Filipino lumpia from Big Boi in your hand while wondering when the buzzy boba café Bopomofo will open in the old Jamba Juice space. But Din Tai Fung is already here, Porto’s is coming, and Ramsay himself will soon get some competition from Michelin-starred chef Joe Isidori, who is bringing Arthur and Sons Steak and Bourbon.
With all the new dining, shopping and entertainment options, it can be argued that Downtown Disney has now become as fun as the theme parks themselves.
And let’s be honest: with the crowds, the TSA-style security checkpoints, and the $10 parking fee for the first hour— which is charged even after restaurant validation gives you five additional hours for free — doesn’t it already feel like you’re going to Disneyland anyway?
Gordon Ramsay at The Carnaby. Downtown Disney District. 1553 Disneyland Drive, Anaheim. (714) 780-3680. Open from 4 p.m.to 10 p.m. gordonramsayatthecarnaby.com.
