Roast Dinners in London

10 years since Brexit. 100 years since I had a really good roast dinner. This time I went to The George in Fitzrovia to see if we could at least re-join the Single Market break my run of crap roast dinners.

I did originally have a plan to commemorate the 10th anniversary of Brexit, and it wasn’t a return to Poplar Cafe – where I once celebrated the actual leaving of the EU:

Thank fuck lockdown came shortly after so I didn’t need to repeat that experience.

So the plan was to get a group together, go to The European in Leyton, and make sure everyone wears blue and/or yellow (almost certainly my friends would ignore that part). And then moan about Brexit. And then blog about moaning about Brexit.

Alas, Mother Gravy is a bit poorly and it was my turn to go make her a cup of tea or three, and I just don’t know what else to say about Brexit. At least the NHS has £350m extra a week, I guess.

Alas also, heatwave meant travelling to Hull in a moving greenhouse with the sun blaring on my face for two hours, sweat pouring off me. Grim. And then when I got to Doncaster to change trains, my train was cancelled – though my moving greenhouse was delayed by 30 minutes so I would have missed it anyway. And then the next train to Hull was cancelled. They don’t come very often, FYI – like 1-2 an hour. Oh and the next train after that to Hull was cancelled too.

Off I popped to Doncaster’s version of The Winchester to let all the hot air blow over.

Oh man, this fucking country and heatwaves.

Careless Whisper… of Gravy

Oh man, this fucking country and heatwaves:

So I made it to Hull. And I made it back to London in time for a late roast dinner.

I’ve generally eschewed late roast dinners, partly because my life is easier if I can write some of the review when I get back home (depending on alcohol consumption) – but more because of my experiences of pubs leaving things under heat lamps all day to dry out.

Then again, my level of disdain for certain pub chains means I’m also wondering if early roast dinners mean I’m more likely to get the week before’s leftovers. The George is in a chain of three pubs, The Cadogan Arms (highly rated but only moderately high by myself) and The Hound in Chiswick – on the to-do list, and also is highly-rated.

We were sat upstairs – the vibe was rather green. Oh and there were screaming childen – combined with bass from musical instruments on the ground floor did make it unpleasant until the parents managed to control them (the joy of screens).

Club Tropicana, Drinks Are Free, Roasties Are Not

To compliment the vibe we were sat next to an American couple who were confused to receive a glass of red wine they had not ordered – and we had. They thought they were getting a free drink – lol, free drinks in London. Club Tropicana it ain’t.

On the menu was beef rump at…£35.00…sigh, pork belly at £32.00 or celeriac at £28.00. There was a chicken roast on the specials board, again I think £32.00 ish – plus a sharing lamb dish.

I don’t eat beef because Japan ruined it for me, I had pork the week before, I wasn’t going to eat £77.50 worth of lamb roast myself and celeriac…yeah…no. So I ordered the pork belly.

Service was struggling a bit. Around 40 minutes after ordering, we were wondering where our roasts were by this point – and someone advised us that the chef had dropped them. Do I blame the Brexit or the heatwave?

But then 10 minutes after scoffing to our temporary American friends that there is no such thing as free drinks in London, drinks were free. Maybe it really was Club Tropicana, with a really nice glass of Beaujolais for free. And suddenly I had three drinks queued up. On a Sunday evening.

Oh and there was some half-decent beers on at The George too, including a pale ale by DEYA – not one of their most gorgeous, but a pleasant beer for the post-heatwave vibes.

Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go Get The Extra Gravy

It probably was a good 50 minutes before our dinners turned up, so was it worth the wait?

Starting with the carrots which were really carroty – fresh and juicy.

Some cabbage was supplied, though not much, which was quite on the crunchy side – it had some flavour, probably not miso but along those lines.

The creamed shredded leeks were the pick of the vegetables – perhaps there was something other than leek mixed in also, the creaminess was top notch, plus I thought I detected a bit of Dijon for a slight kick.

Roast potatoes were crispy! Delectably crispy, melt-in-your-mouth as they are supposed to be, soft and fluffy on the inside.

Apparently pubs can make good roast potatoes in the summer. Despite heatwave. And they can serve reasonably fresh roast potatoes for evening bookings too. Despite Brexit.

Wham! That’s a Good Roast And A Shit Heading

The giant Yorkshire pudding was ridiculously huge. Burnt to top but fluffy to bottom, and thick inside – there really is no need for Yorkshire puddings to be this unwieldy – I’d be surprised if anyone ate a whole yorkie – especially when they are on the upsell with starters and sides.

If it was small, I’d have rated it more.

More excellence came in the pork belly which was also generous in portion size, the pork really tender and juicy – the crackling not quite top notch as it was chewy in places, but nicely crispy in others.

The touch of fennel in the flavour gave joy also.

My accomplice had the beef, which was apparently fantastically flavoured, though somewhat on the chewy side – one slice better than the other two.

Finally, though the gravy was a tad thinner than the dream, and a bit oily – it was also quite meaty and suited the roast well.

The George

We had a fun evening at The George – and pleasingly they were able to serve a really good roast dinner in the evening. Eventually.

Excellent roasties, really good pork belly, very enjoyable creamed leeks – only the yorkie carries criticism of any weight, and that’s because it’s too large and just a waste of glorious batter.

Service seemed slightly chaotic but always friendly – the wine recommendation was spot on, and though the menu stated 125ml (I might start a petition to ban tiny wine glass sizes), it seemed more like 175ml.

In these days of big chains enforcing really sub-par roasts (Young’s, Metropolitan Pub Co looking at both of you right now), you’d hope that this The George will keep it’s standards for years to come.

My accomplice’s score was an 8.10, and my score is an 8.31 out of 10 – I was that enamoured with getting crispy roast potatoes in the evening.

Oh and our American visitors on the table next to us scored theirs a 7 and an 8 out of 10, respectively – perhaps less enamoured by the beef and also the huge thing we explained was a Yorkshire pudding. Yes, they had read the blog.

Next Sunday’s roast dinner is a real risky one. 5 out of the last 6 reviews on Google are 1 star, though none of them mention the roast dinner – I’ve had a tip-off, so we’ll see.