Roast Dinners in London

PRIVATISE THE NH…whoa thought I was doing Roast Dinners In Clacton for a minute. I mean, erm, welcome to my roast dinner review of The Clement Attlee in Limehouse.

It’s been quite a week, hasn’t it? At least for the few people reading this on the week of publication, and not in the future. Those reading this in the future, please tell me Donald Trump is in jail?

So we had Rachel Reeves doing the income tax hokey-cokey whose pre-budget incompetence was rescued by the state of Downing Street and who is or isn’t plotting to bring down Kier Starmer.

Who was quickly rescued by the world trying to work out who Bubba is/was.

And whether Trump sucked him/it off.

But then that was usurped by #ExtraGravyGate. For a whole 0.0000000001% of the internet, including myself, anyway.

Yes – I gave out a fairly rare 8+ score for a roast dinner, and made a bit of drama about the unadvertised gravy charge being on the bill – to which I received a complaint that I hadn’t understood the operator’s point of view.

I was very kind in response. I could have given a very different response, but I feel like the world needs more kindness.

The 1947 Town and Country Planning Act

Guess what?

We had gravy problems of our own at The Clement Attlee. A serious one.

They’d asked us to order in advance, but I’d also been asked to check that the gravy didn’t have tomato in it – as one of the group was allergic to tomato. And I received such re-assurance, no tomato in the gravy.

Alas, when we arrived at The Clement Attlee, they advised us that was not correct – there is a tomato base to the gravy. Though 10 minutes later, we saw one of them smuggle in a pot of Bisto. Fair play to them – that’s how to resolve a customer issue.

The Clement Attlee is one of the pubs owned and run by The Craft Beer Co – The Bear in Paddington is similar, and does exceptional burgers, so I had good hopes for here too.

Plus – there is nowhere more likely to offer me a decent IPA than one of their pubs.

The 1948 British Nationality Act

It’s a smart looking pub inside, I think fairly newly renovated – solid good quality tables, a mixture of lime green and pale mustard seating, some exposed brickwork (must have if you advertise that you sell craft beer – though advertising that you sell craft beer apparently means that you sell Neck Oil in some more dubious venues) and some screens for the football. Plus a little beer garden upstairs.

It is very much my kind of pub, even if The Town And County Planning Act 1947 is one of the main reasons house prices are so high in London. Apparently Clement Attlee was from the Limehouse area.

According to the website, the food is done by Arturo Camacho – an Ecuadorian chef, so perhaps you could call this my first ever Ecuadorian roast dinner. Perhaps.

On the menu was roast beef, roast chicken and stuffed aubergine – each priced at £24.00.

I’d had beef the week before (in more than one way, alas) so I ordered the chicken.

So, starting with…the croquettes.

Because why would you not order croquettes?

These were fried delicacies, a delightful golden crumb with a potato and chicken mix, but what made it is the coriander salsa – a really nice tang to the salsa. Fine…you only care about the roast dinner.

Exchange Control Act 1947

The gravy was the main story in more ways than one this week, so let’s start with the gravy. You could argue that it is more consequential than the creation of the NHS. Because you can argue any old shit nowadays – I could probably even run for president on a “gravy cures all, you don’t need medicine” platform and get elected.

It was a thick gravy, and extra was needed – the smallish pot of gravy was not sufficient for a northerner, and guess what? Yep, a £2.00 extra gravy charge. We’re losing, aren’t we? Do you still play The Game? Because you’ve just lost The Game.

Also the gravy was a little on the spicy side, something like Chinese Five Spice kind of flavour – you could tell the tomato base and it was quite punchy. You might not like this gravy. I wouldn’t want it every week, for personal tastes I much prefer a meat stock gravy – but it was curiously good and I advise you try it.

Next up we had a rather fruity half red onion – flavours almost like winter red cabbage but without the annoyance of bits of red cabbage polluting the gravy.

Also there were a few sticks of carrot, roasted and on the crunchier side of the spectrum – I thought with some cinnamon and cumin perhaps, though it wasn’t so easy to tell with the Five Spice gravy going on…was I just tasting the gravy?

Then there was a chunk of Hispi cabbage, the king of cabbage – I’m not sure anything special had been done with it, but it was on the delicious side. Why isn’t there a The John Major pub anywhere?

The 1948 British Nationality Act

I had an e-mail this week gone, from someone in the East Midlands who was curious about my obsession with crispy sides on roast potatoes – for he would prefer the softer ones that had soaked up the beef dripping that they’d been cooked in.

And I guess we had something closer to that experience this week – for there were no crispy sides, and they were soft – and they had definitely soaked up some flavours from the cooking oils. I did really enjoy them.

The Yorkshire pudding was kind of dried out, yet I didn’t hate it. Like dried-out but with a bouncy nature to it, it was something that you could still eat.

And the chicken was sadly a bit dry, especially the breast which had lots its moisture. I’d have liked the skin to be crispy too – though again there was a fair amount of flavour to it – be that from the chicken or the gravy, I couldn’t be sure.

Those eating the beef were a lot more complimentary – it being a family roast mean that I had Momma Gravy’s leftover beef, and I can confirm that it was nicely peppered, on the rare side and fairly tender. More enjoyable than my chicken – which wasn’t bad, just a bit on the dry side.

There definitely should be a The Margaret Thatcher. Not too soon, is it?

The Clement Attlee

I guess I should mention the beer.

My favourite was probably the Unsolicited Feedback – a rounded IPA with a touch of banana, though also the blonde (not in the image) was good – kind of butterscotch. Oh and the Full Half-Day, which was a DIPA at 7% (and £14 a pint lol) was quite full-bodied for a beer, I could only manage a couple. Yeah it was a Sunday Funday. Not long until Dry January so I might as well make the most of it.

We also had some Malbec which whilst nothing outstanding, was pretty good.

Service was good, especially given that they sneaked out to get a pot of Bisto for our tomato-allergy accomplice. Plus they were always helpful with beer choices.

Am I allowed to mention that we had to pay for extra gravy though?

Oh, and there was some fiddling going on by the evening.

No, not that type of fiddling, Irish band type fiddling. It did give it atmosphere, even if we escaped upstairs to watch the football.

In conclusion, a great pub and a good roast dinner. Those with the beef (everyone except me) rated theirs higher, as they all really enjoyed the beef. The vegetables were top notch, the roast potatoes were flavoursome – if missing crispy sides, and the gravy was thick – though whether you want a Five Spice gravy is maybe a matter of opinion. Maybe give it a try.

Only let downs were the dry yorkie, and for me – the dry chicken.

Scores reflect this, my regular accomplice with an 8.30, an 8.00, an 8.70, an 8.50 and a whopping 9.00 – though the main reason was for accommodating her tomato intolerance, which means she gave a 9.00 out of 10 for getting Bisto. Which is why only my score counts.

My score is lower, because I wasn’t into the chicken, but still healthy enough – a 7.61 out of 10.

I’ll be back next week if I can cope with another week of Rachel Reeves’ budget hokey cokey – I don’t actually have a plan yet.

There will never be a The Rachel Reeves, will there?

There is a Bill Clinton Boulevard in Pristina.