It’s the last roast dinner before Christmas, and this week I went to Mare Street Market – the newly opened one in King’s Cross, not the original Mare Street Mare Street Market.
You know what it being Christmas calls for?

Aha.
It’s the time of year to make the boys happy.

Is it…
Is it what you are looking for…
Are you feeling horny yet?

Are you ready?
Are you ready for your Christmas present?
Just keep scrolling a bit…
Boobies
Tits
Jugs
Melons
Hooters
Knockers
Actually…

IT’S NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET. Mwa ha ha ha ha your soul belongs to me.
You Are All My Children Now
Mare Street Market wasn’t on the to-do list because I expected a great roast dinner – it was on there because King’s Cross is a useful location. You know, trains and stuff.
Also I thought it might be one of those cool places to visit – you may well have been to their Hackney branch, chandelier heaven, half-decent pizzas, vinyl shop and loads of drunken Insta women doing brunch.
Mare Street Market in King’s Cross is similar but way more spacious, and slightly too modern a feel. We were upstairs, which is where their massive collection of chandeliers is hosted, which kind of had hotel lobby vibes. Downstairs was a bit more lively, with more of the longer sharing tables.

I had my suspicions when I noted a glut of 1-star reviews for the venue, I even considered it taking off the to-do list, and probably would have done were it not for the location.
When our visiting friend wanted to go there, because of location, I booked it – but said, “I think their roast looks a bit crap by the way…just seen a photograph”.

Yep, that’s seriously what Mare Street Market put on their Instagram. Not even one “OMG loves so much give me freebie” comment.
“Oh I don’t think it looks that bad?!” replied said friend. Fine.
Expectations were low.
One, two, Elon’s coming for you…
For a few minutes, I thought a nightmare was coming to pass – no, I’m not talking about Nigel Farage accepting up to £100m from President Musk, as there is no way Nigel Farage or any of the Brexiters would accept foreign interference in our politics as they are fervent believers in sovereignty, and I’m sure the Daily Mail, Daily Telegraph, BBC, etc, will hold them to account on this.
And whilst we are on the subject of fucking hypocrites, how about the deputy Prime Minister spending £68,000 on a photographer, because “the public complain that they don’t see enough of her”.

That’ll be a £22,068,000 black hole then.
Ohhhhh, hang on, it’s Labour spending money so this is investing in the economy. Gosh, I do apologise. If only I was a Bank Of England chief economist like Rachel Reeves was, then I’d understand.
Anyway, the nightmare. I scanned the menu and didn’t see one single mention of roast dinners. You could order a side of pigs in blankets. Or anything from their brunch or pizza menu. Thankfully – they were also doing roasts but we had to ask for the roast dinner menu. Scare avoided.
Welcome to prime time, bitch

Options on the menu were beef rump at £26.00, half a chicken at £20.00, pork belly at £23.00 or polenta with mushroom loaf at £18.00 (another reason not to become vegetarian). I went for the chicken for no reason other than I had pork last weekend at Albert’s Schloss…though I did really fancy the pork.
I did have to chase after the waiter who served us to check that there were no peas, and to order some totally unnecessary pigs in blankets, but he reassured me that there were no peas.
And then came back two minutes later to apologise that they’d run out of pigs in blankets. I didn’t need them anyway.
Would you like to see some peas?

Bastards.
And would you like to see some pigs in blankets?

Aha. We’ll come back to service later.
This… is God. Or at least the Lord, Lord Gravy
So starting with the carrots, which were a mixed bunch of orange and yellow carrots, really soft and really quite sweet. Honey, for sure, perhaps there was something else going on too that I couldn’t quite make out. They were really good.
Of course, before I could start eating I had to spend 10 minutes de-pea-ifying my roast dinner. Most of which were hidden instead the mound of cabbage, but I found one stray pea near a potato.

Scoff all you want, but you cannot trust peas. They have a lack of discipline and get everywhere, including one which jumped from one accomplice’s plate onto the other’s treasured cardigan.
The cabbage itself was quite nice, though not especially easy to eat in my current toothless predicament.
The usual three roast potatoes had definitely been cooked a fair while earlier, and were on the tired side. But they were edible, they tasted pleasant enough – they just weren’t recently cooked and had lost any crispy edges they may or may not have had once upon a time.

Likewise the Yorkshire pudding had been cooked somewhere earlier, and was notably dried up and Quaver-like in texture. Perhaps it had even been cooked the night before. Shit might be too strong a description, for I ate some of it, but it isn’t too far off.
The chicken was a bit of a surprise as it actually tasted really smoky – not a mention of this on the menu so it was a pleasant surprise, as was the amount of garlic in whatever rub they’d used. The chicken itself was plump, the skin crispy – there was loads of it too. I was pretty impressed to be fair.
We paid extra for the pigs in blankets, of which they had apparently run out yet they still arrived. Some didn’t have blankets, one was burnt, the others undercooked…but hmmm sausage.
Of course, the gravy didn’t impress. We’ve really gone backwards in London this year in terms of gravy – this was quite watery but also more of a tomato-based gravy which is never my preference, and a tad rich. I didn’t hate it, but it wasn’t for me.
Mare Street Market
So a bit of a mixed bunch – a shit yorkie and tired roasties, but with really nice carrots and plump, smoky chicken.
Half of the roast dinner was really good, half of it was really poor.
I did say that I’d come back to the service – for it was rather withdrawn. Everyone was very pleasant, but every time we wanted anything, it was always us chasing. We had to ask to get served drinks, we had to ask to get served food, we had to clear our own plates away, nobody asked us if we wanted dessert…I’m pretty sure we could have sat there for two hours and not eaten/drunk anything if we hadn’t prompted.
This kind of voluptuous venue is a huge undertaking, so it probably isn’t a surprise that there are teething problems, but a quick flick through the reviews on Google Maps will show that there are rather a few issues, of which we encountered the most common.
Yet mare Street Market is a really nice venue, in a great area – plus they had a Verdant pale ale on, not one of my favourites from Verdant, but Verdant are one of my favourite brewers so props to them for that. I’ll definitely be back here for drinks at some point…someone I know will definitely end up having a birthday/leaving drinks/dog’s wedding party here.
I think we can scrape to the happier half of the scoring, just, given the excellent chicken and carrots, and my score is a 7.02. My accomplices both scored it a 7.00 out of 10.
I’ll be back next Sunday for the final roast dinner of the year. No plans, though I do plan to bang on about President Musk.
Oh yeah, some Christmas boobs…I nearly forgot.

Merry Christmas!
Summary:
Mare Street Market, King’s Cross
Station: King's Cross
Tube Lines: Circle, Hammersmith & City, Metropolitan Line, National Rail, Northern, Piccadilly, Thameslink
Fare Zone: Zone 1
Price: £20.00
Rating: 7.02
Loved & Loathed
Loved: Chicken was really flavoursome, smokey with a garlic rub. Carrots were really good too, and the venue is great.
Loathed: Roasties were tired, the yorkie was shit, and the service is rather withdrawn...you need to do the prompting.
Where now, sailor?
Random roast review: The Kennington, Oval
