I am going on a summer holi…oh actually I was going for a roast dinner. At Jones & Sons, in Dalston.
I am going on a summer holi…oh actually I was waiting to do a covid test, before I could go for a
holiday. And a roast dinner.
I am going on a summer…oh actually it’s more a spring holiday. Are you excited for me?

Finally I get to go on a holiday to celebrate the end of the pandemic. But, gosh, what a BALLACHE. Didn’t mean to put caps lock on then but it works. So to get to USA, I had to apply for an ESTA, take a telehealth observed lateral flow test, upload vaccination details, fill in an attestation, and then hope me or my travel partner didn’t get covid – otherwise it would all be cancelled. Especially when there is lots of covid flying around despite the pandemic having ended yet again. Oh and wear a mask for 10 hours on the plane.
And you thought finding the perfect roast dinner was hard work. Do you want to see some showgirls?
So it was a later roast dinner then normal as we needed to do our respective covid tests first – a 4pm sitting. And I arrived to a cacophony of noise. I actually met one of my followers for a few beers in Las Vegas, and he asked me what level of notes I take – “noisy” was the only note I had taken. Because I’m going to remember it all. And write the review in Las Vegas. With full memory. Aha. Or perhaps, uh huh huh.
There’s a thousand pretty women waitin’ out there
Want to see our plane food?

Yeah, I know, Brewdog. Unfollow me if you want, but it was that or Heineken. Oh yeah and that is allegedly chicken pie. Pie is not a pie if it doesn’t have pastry around the edge and on the bottom. FACT. This didn’t even have pastry on the top. But hey, I’m sure British Airways are grateful for my interest free loan to them during the pandemic.
Oh and it had peas inside.
Anyway, Jones & Sons, Modern British Restaurant – at least this is what it names itself as on a Google search. And yeah, it was as you’d expect from something describing itself as such – a converted warehouse/studio building with concrete floors, exposed brickwork and air conditioning pipes – it uses the features well. However the sound bounces a lot – and arriving, with hangover, to a room with 3 large tables with young children created a cacophony of noise to endure.
I do wish more venues would think about the acoustics – there was music playing too so people were also competing with that and raising their voices more.
But a great roast dinner will more than compensate, and according to their website, “their legendary Sunday roast has been featured in the Evening Standard as #7 on their list of the “Top 25 restaurants for Sunday Lunch”, and more recently GQ put us in the top 3 in their “Sunday Lunch Guide”.”. Uh huh huh.

And they had my 3 favourite cuts of meat on – rib-eye, leg of lamb and pork belly. Priced between £19.00 and £23.00. I wanted a proper British send-off before going to fall in love with some showgirls, so I chose the beef at £23.00. Do you want to see some showgirls?
And they’re all livin’ devil may care
Barely 5 minutes after ordering, our roasts arrived. 5 minutes. I’d expect that in Wetherspoons. Did they want rid of us that quickly? Can I not even have time to finish my beer?

Shit. I cannot remember anything about the food. Did I mention it was noisy? I remember what the service was like, but that’s a story for later…well…I’ve already given you a hint on that.
Let’s start with the parsnip as that was really good. That was actually memorable, how they’d brought out the flavour so well – I was most impressed.
The carrots – one orange and one purple were less memorable but perfectly respectable. Small and soft, a bit like me even when confronted with latino showgirls. You do want to see some showgirls, right?
The cabbage was fine though notably salty – not sure if that is a compliment or not. And the half a shallot was nice…though I cannot remember what I liked about it.
I do remember the roast potatoes. I know it was 4pm, but if you are a really good restaurant then you should be serving equally good food at 4pm as at 1pm. Am I right in thinking that you want to see some showgirls?

Yes they were hard. They were tough. They were dry inside. They were old. I suspect that they might have been good at midday but they certainly weren’t good at 4pm.
And I’m just the devil with love to spare
The Yorkshire pudding, a bit like the whole dinner was a mixture of good and bad. Inside, it was proper eggy and scrumptiously, fluffily soft. But on the outside it was like cardboard. I resorted to scraping the inner beauty out which kind of worked. Would have been nice if it wasn’t the cumulative size of the rest of the dinner.
I have to say, for £23.00 I would expect more than one thin slice of beef. Wouldn’t you? My accomplice didn’t rate it at all – though she’s not a fan of fatty meat, and this was fatty. I am, however, a fan of fatty meat, and what meat I had, I enjoyed – though I wasn’t blown away by either quality or taste. Not enough but just about good enough.
Finally, we liked the gravy. Yeah we didn’t like the quantity of gravy, but more arrived upon request. Not too much more, but just about sufficient. It was quite thick and flavoursome – better than the London average. Though also notably salty. Showgirls?
So for my Vegas BABY send-off, Jones & Sons provided a really mixed bag. There wasn’t much that was average – everything was either good or bad.
Good gravy, mostly good vegetables – but with shit roast potatoes, a really small quantity of meat and the outside of the yorkie being like cardboard. Oh and poor service.
Viva Las Vegas, Viva Las Vegas
I’d already clocked that service at Jones & Sons was poor before I arrived in Las Vegas, but holy crap, the service over here, the smiles, the sweetest cutest voices, their desire to earn a good tip – ok, maybe the sunshine helps and a few more days over here I’ll be craving miserable, moody Londoners serving me with the disdain that I often deserve, but the service in USA is just on another level to most places in the UK. Y’all wanna see some showgirls?

In Las Vegas, they wanted us there. At Jones & Sons, they wanted to go home. In Las Vegas, service came with huge smiles. At Jones & Sons, it was like their soul was dying inside (or possibly they were hungover). In Las Vegas, they were really keen to serve us. At Jones & Sons, it was like we were getting in their way.
As I said, I’d clocked the disinterested service before going to Vegas. BABY. Service over the pond puts almost everywhere I’ve been in London into shade – but service at your average Young’s puts Jones & Sons into shade.
There must be people caring about this business, it reads well on their website, the people behind it seem to be passionate, but my experience weren’t good. Oh yeah, showgirls, I forgot.

Jeez. HAPPY NOW?
Clearly there are people that care about this business and I don’t think it would take much to smooth out the difficulties I experienced. However I can only review what I experience. My accomplice scored it a 6.80 out of 10, and my score is a 6.70 out of 10.
It could be, should be and probably has been a really good restaurant. Maybe I got unlucky, or maybe they are a bit off form. It happens.
Roast dinner 200 is next. I have nowhere booked. And it is Mother’s Day. Hmmm.
Summary:
Jones & Sons, Dalston
Station: Dalston Junction
Tube Lines: Overground
Fare Zone: Zone 2
Price: £23.00
Rating: 6.70
Loved & Loathed
Loved: The fluffy inside of the Yorkie, gravy was good and so were veggies.
Loathed: The cardboard outside of the Yorkie, tough old roasties and disinterested service.
Where now, sailor?
Random roast review: Leman Street Tavern, Aldgate

It is, in fact, true that his notes on his phone for this roast simply said “noisy”. Thanks for the inside look into the mind and workings of Your Lordship. Next beer is on me.
Was an honour to meet you and your wife also. Or is that honor to you? See you when you finally make it over for a roast 😉
It’s HONOUR, I know because I’m playing God save the Queen while typing this in my Union Jack boxers! 🤨