I always feel like Walthamstow should have an e on the end. And this Sunday I went to Eat 17 in Walthamstow.
I actually went out midweek this week, in January, despite not drinking. Oh I would have loved a beer. Well, I drank so much last weekend that I want to do Dry February, Dry March, Dry April and Dry May – however I still would have loved a beer.
Anyway, so I went out midweek to celebrate my regular accomplice moving to Walthamstow. It’s my sister. We look alike and she hates it when anyone points that out. A ha ha ha ha ha.
Whoa. You know something about me now.
Apart from that fact that I am Lord Gravy.
Ah, sorry, I should mention that the Metropolitan Police asked me to redact portions of this report. But don’t worry, you’ll see enough information to be able to judge whether I had a roast dinner or not.

I do eat things that aren’t roast dinners you know. So on Wednesday – yeah bit of a tangent, I did nearly go off on a tangent about an ex-footballer, (I probably do have to actually redact his name), and his, sigh, alleged offence, but apparently according to some dredglings on social media, we need to hear his story. They have a point – we do need to hear his story. On tape, whilst in a police cell.
I’m sure it will happen. I have every faith in the police in this country.
Except the Metropolitan Police who are fucking useless, and almost certainly corrupt.
Eat 17
Soooooo. On Wednesday, I went to Eat 17 with my family, to celebrate my sister moving into her brand new over-priced shoe-box of a flat that I am insanely jealous of. Hi Mum!
Why the fuck did I spend so much money on drugs and booze when I was young instead of investing in property?
Why the fuck do I spend so much money on roasts and booze when I am still pretending to be young instead of investing in property?
Anyway, I fell in love with one of the waitresses – yeah, it’s been a while since that happened. Yeah, long dark hair. Not Spanish though. Oh and the food was really good. So we just decided to go back on the Sunday.
And here we are. I like Eat 17. It has that organic-feeling middle-class vibe going to it that I like to pretend I fit into so well. It’s kind of 3 businesses in one, an expensive grocery store (I saw asparagus spears at £5.69), a bakery with absolutely gorgeous-looking cakes and bread, then a restaurant.

Obviously the photograph is stolen, as it would be blurry/dark/wonky if it were me. And there would be lots of people here – because we booked the last table available at lunch. Eat 17 is popular. Not difficult to see why. If you like this kind of set-up.

On the menu was pork belly, chicken or topside of beef. Topside is a meh cut, pork belly I had last week, so I was left with chicken at the very reasonable price of £15.85.
East 17
Baby if you’ve got to go away
Don’t think I could take the pain (Stay now)
Won’t you stay another day? (Stay now)
Oh don’t leave me alone like this
Don’t you say it’s the final kiss (Stay now)
Won’t you stay another day? (Stay now)
Absolutely fucking no way. No. That shit is not going in my work of art. Won’t you stay another…NO NO NO.

So half the vegetables are redacted by the presentation, but it’s normally best to show you how they wanted it presenting before I re-arrange. And now onto the carrots:
The carrots were a highlight. Small, softly roasted, smoky with a chargrilled edge to their taste – these were very good.
I had difficulty separating the celeriac puree from the spring greens, as one was on top of the other and by time I had done my re-arranging, they were more intertwined.
Therefore it was almost like eating buttery, creamy greens – and the greens themselves did taste quite buttery – the flavour of the celeriac puree was surprisingly limited – together they were greater than the sum of their own. That isn’t the right proverb, is it?
The roast potatoes were…mixed. Two were a little “cooked a while ago” ish, normal for London and nothing especially displeasing. The other did taste a bit fresher and had some crisp to it.
Beast 17
You can probably see where I am going with this report now, but let’s show you another photograph:

The Yorkshire pudding was respectable. A little too dry and crispy but I’ve had worse – my accomplice’s was pretty much outright burnt.
We both had a stuffing slice, despite my accomplice having the beef. This was really rather nice, some herby filling and a crispy top to it.
And the chicken was mostly good too. Plump with a delightfully crispy skin, which had that same chargrilled edge to the taste that the carrots did. Mostly quite succullent though a tad dry on one side.
Finally, the gravy. Well, I didn’t dislike it. My accomplice enjoyed it more than I did, it had tones of either red wine or tomato – I couldn’t quite decide, had a bit of consistency to it. I was fine with it.
So ladies, and gentlemen. I think this report has made it clear to everyone reading that I did not have a roast dinner. I may have been at a place serving roast dinners but I didn’t know it was a restaurant and certainly didn’t have anything to eat there.
Don’t Beat Your Wife/Girlfriend/Boyfriend/Anyone 17
What’s that? Your name is Sue Grey? OK…you can see this bit but don’t tell anyone else.
The carrots were a highlight. Small, softly roasted, smoky with a chargrilled edge to their taste – these were very good.
I had difficulty separating the celeriac puree from the spring greens, as one was on top of the other and by time I had done my re-arranging, they were more intertwined.
Therefore it was almost like eating buttery, creamy greens – and the greens themselves did taste quite buttery – the flavour of the celeriac puree was surprisingly limited – together they were greater than the sum of their own. That isn’t the right proverb, is it?
The roast potatoes were…mixed. Two were a little “cooked a while ago” ish, normal for London and nothing especially displeasing. The other did taste a bit fresher and had some crisp to it.
The Yorkshire pudding was respectable. A little too dry and crispy but I’ve had worse – my accomplice’s was pretty much outright burnt.
We both had a stuffing slice, despite my accomplice having the beef. This was really rather nice, some herby filling and a crispy top to it.
And the chicken was mostly good too. Plump with a delightfully crispy skin, which had that same chargrilled edge to the taste that the carrots did. Mostly quite succullent though a tad dry on one side.
Finally, the gravy. Well, I didn’t dislike it. My accomplice enjoyed it more than I did, it had tones of either red wine or tomato – I couldn’t quite decide, had a bit of consistency to it. I was fine with it.
Redacted 17
By this point, I was advised by my accomplice that I needed to help put together a bed. However I would be paid in cake. And Eat 17 had a glorious selection in their bakery – though much depleted in the hour or so that we were in the restaurant.

And though I keep waffling nonsense about going on a 3 month cake and chocolate detox (starting today…again), this beauty will tempt me back. White chocolate oreo brownie. It was deluxe.
And it didn’t take too long of putting the “no drill required” bed together until it mentioned that we needed a drill, so there wasn’t too much I could do.
Which leaves me to tell you the scores. My accomplice was more impressed than I, scoring it a 7.80 out of 10.
Though I was still happy – the chicken was nice, the carrots were very nice – nothing was especially bad. Roast potatoes and yorkie are the lowest hanging fruit for improvement. I’m scoring it a 7.38.
Also worth mentioning is that the service is good and the freshly-squeezed orange juice was like a little taste of Spain.
Well. That’s the end.
Don’t you say it’s the final kiss. It isn’t. I’ll be back next week. Plan is not yet set but perhaps a roast at one of the more awkward spots of town.
With thanks to the Metropolitan Police for the inspiration.
Arrest the bastard. You know he’s broken the law. Allegedly. Multiple times.
Summary:
Eat 17, Walthamstow
Station: Walthamstow Central
Tube Lines: Overground, Victoria
Fare Zone: Zone 3
Price: £15.85
Rating: 7.38
Closed Down
Loved & Loathed
Loved: Loved the chargrilled smokiness of the carrots, and chicken skin. And the whole vibe of the place. Brownies a must also.
Loathed: Well, the roast potatoes could have been fresher but broadly it was acceptable.
Where now, sailor?
Random roast review: The Londesborough, Stoke Newington

Hot dark haired british servers? Is this the newest obsession? Welcome to the club.
British people serving in restaurants when they could be doing a Media Studies degree or trying to become a famous Instagrammer? You are as deluded as your next president.
Reasonable enough dinner at descent price, I’d be happy with that. It’s many moons since I ordered roast chicken in a restaurant, but given the alternative of topside of beef (my go to cut for casseroles) I’d plump (excuse the pun) for the fowl alternative.
Yah topside is a bit meh…it was what I’d use when I was post-student trying to make a roast dinner that would nowadays get a star billing on Rate My Plate.