Whilst the Bear and I love to cook, we also do like to eat out and there is something truly decadent about having a Sunday Roast in a restaurant, before strolling home for a snooze. We were lucky that close to our previous abode, there was a pub that excelled in the Sunday carvery, and we would stroll over to partake of their fare fairly often.
Now we have moved, but to an area brimming with restaurants, pubs, bars and eateries. My Just-Eat options alone number in the hundreds and one cannot walk more than 10 minutes I'm any direction without finding a niche cafe with mismatched chairs and home made cake. I decided to embrace my new environment by trying out their Sunday offerings.
And this is why we need to talk, Didsbury. Not about Sunday roasts per se, but about roast beef. I think it's important to be absolutely clear on this. Roast beef should not be grey, it should not be crispy, it should not sit like a Burnt offering on the plate. Roast beef should be pink and juicy and melt in the mouth. The gravy should just be for fun, not a moistener! Twice now the Bear and I have turned up at one of your establishments and ordered the roast beef. And twice have we been disappointed with the meat. You have the accoutrements down pat. Dauphinoise potatoes are not easy to do, trust me I've tried! And such huge Yorkshire puddings! Yummy. But the beef darling, the beef was overcooked, dry and dull and frankly, when we were the first diners, that's quite hard to do.
You need to pull your socks up, Didsbury. I'm thinking of cooking my own beef next week and none of us want that. To recap: pink, juicy, rare and succulent. These are the words you're seeking. If I may, dig out your Delia: She is the goddess of all things culinary and you need her help. Ok, Didsbury, I'll let you catch your breath and I'll see you in a week or two.
