Please note that due to Copyright Trolls, all images have been removed until I can manually review them, one by one, and ensure credit is appropriately displayed. So if the story suddenly makes no sense, then...well...soz.
This is a long process, so please bear with me...it will likely take until the end of 2024 until all images are reviewed and displayed correctly. Sigh.
And there I was, looking for the closest half-decent roast dinner to Marylebone train station, following my weekend in Manchester. And here I was, in The Duke Of Wellington in Marylebone.
Shall we spin the Wheel Of Crud?
Oh hello FIFA. I appreciate that I should also be apologising for the next 3,000 years for exploding an egg in a microwave at Reading University in 1999 and therefore have absolutely no right to criticise any professional chef in 2022 for under-cooked roast potatoes, but FUCK FIFA.
“Madam, I need to search you for dangerous items, such as bombs, guns, knives and rainbow hats”.
Of course, my principled boycott lasted one game and I’ve watched most of it since then. That’ll show ’em.
Oooh, shall we spin the Wheel Of Crud once more?
Trains – you won’t be surprised that this took a long time to turn up – a good 20 spins or so. Ahhh, yes, the British train network. Sometimes glorious, sometimes efficient, sometimes forgettably good – but then sometimes absolutely fucking infuriating. And I think I managed all of those scenarios on my way to and from Manchester this weekend gone.
Glorious on 1st class to Derby, oooh check me out. Efficient on the way to Stoke. Hellishly cramped on the way to Macclesfield – though I was amused at other’s hesitancy at the train doors about getting into a sardine can, whereas I was like, “yeah room for me”. One experienced sardine.
And then on the way back to London Marylebone, standing room only from Macclesfield (seeing you asked it’s like 1/3 of the price for a hotel compared to Manchester) to Wolverhampton, and around as hot as a Qatari winter.
The puke of Gianni Infantino
So I was expecting a notable hangover this Sunday, and with my train due back by 4pm, I had to find the closest pub to Marylebone station that had a chance of serving a decent roast dinner. I knew I’d have a hangover, though I’d forgotten how much my Dad likes a good night out:
That isn’t my Dad, FYI. Those clashing patterns also.
I ignored the to-do list – there were a couple of places within a short tube journey, but neither I was convinced would still have roasts at 4pm (plus potential delays) – one I messaged but they didn’t get back to me. Thankfully there is no crisis in hospitality and pubs don’t need my business. Keep on ignoring me. Everything will be fine. Oh you want more taxpayer subsidies?
7 minutes walk from Marylebone station was The Duke of Wellington. I’m really not sure why I’ve never been here, seeing as my office used to be 10 minutes walk away. Well…it still is 10 minutes walk away. Well I wasn’t sure when I started this paragraph but now I’ve read their website – apparently it was closed for 4 years until late 2020. Which explains why I’d never been.
Inside The Duke Of Wellington was kind of stylishly dingy – there was a small selection of tables, maybe 10-12 tables at a push, and that includes 2 person tables.
They had a small area outside the front for more clement weather times, and I think they have a larger dining room upstairs – though I assume only from Google photographs. I wasn’t here to explore – I wanted food, beer and to be in bed watching some trashy movie as soon as I could.
Shall we spin the Wheel Of Crud once more?
The puke of Elon Musk
Inflation, baby. I guess you want to see the menu.
Roast dinner prices well into the 20’s – even the vegetarian roast comes to £20. And The Duke Of Wellington isn’t an overhyped pub – I’ve never even thought about going here until three days before I visited.
That said, I’ll pay good money for good food (just wait until next Sunday) – and it now being over 4 months since I’ve scored anything above an 8 out of 10, I don’t mind a few more quid in the hope of something good.
Given my hungover state, I was delighted when the food arrived after 5 minutes. Maybe they wanted to get rid of me too – the service was indifferent to my presence, vaguely on the “don’t fucking talk to me” vibe – but I was also at my most dishevelled and struggling to communicate too. Maybe they were hungover TF also.
Well, there’s some hope, even if it came in a bowl and has my presentation skills. Was pretty dark inside – so I doubt my dubious photography is showing it off particularly well.
Starting with…a spin of the Wheel Of Crud!
Elon Musk – you may be surprised to note that he came up far more than most others.
You know, I’m wondering if we should credit Elon Musk – all forms of racists and I’m not racist buts have been welcomed back to Twitter – Trump, Peterson, even antYe Semitic West – it isn’t just certain types of racists/I’m not racist buts that are now welcome. You have to admire the lack of discrimination. Twat.
The puke of Arriva Trains
Right, carrots. Thinly sliced – unusually so, I think steamed, they seemed to have a fair amount of carrotness, and worked well with the gravy.
The cabbage was pretty ordinary, a bit more crunchy than I’d prefer, but otherwise ordinary.
Then the swede, which was mashed though a bit on the dry side – it could have done with a little more butter or cream to soften it. But it was reasonably enjoyable, especially since it seems a while since I’ve been presented with Swede.
So, onto the roast potatoes and you know what we need to do. Yep, spin the Wheel Of Crud:
Oh. Brexit. You weren’t expecting that, were you?
Gosh, look at the UK. Though to be fair, we had to deal with covid in this country, and we were invaded by Putin, plus we’ve had to deal with higher energy prices – so it cannot really be blamed on Brexit, can it?
Well, at least we saved the fishing industry in this country.
Oh. Maybe not that either.
The Puke Of Brexit Conmen…We All Feel Brexit Today
But look – I actually had good roast potatoes! And 4 of them! Granted if you glued them all together, not something I’d advise unless you were really inspired by the glue videos at school, then it was only really one and a bit potatoes.
Fairly crispy on the outside, fairly fluffy on the inside – one was a little on the chewy side, but overall, for 4pm in the afternoon, these were kind of comparatively delectable.
The Yorkshire pudding, of which I’ve managed to photograph very little, was on the dry and crispy side – but at least it didn’t have that dried foam feel inside that many older yorkies do. I’ve had worse – it doesn’t even quite deserve a spin of the Wheel Of Crud.
Now, if you like your beef fatty, this one is for you. I do – but the fat could have done with a little server-side rendering (I hope there’s at least one software engineer reading and amused by my joke) – there was a good centimetre of fat on the edge, which in texture was like undercooked Tesco bacon fat. The meat was on the rare side and rather silky in texture – though very thinly sliced.
Finally, the gravy. It was one of those almost jus-like gravies, a fairly rich gravy but not enough to overpower the meal. A little oily too. I kind of liked it. Kind of.
The Duke Of Wellington
It was a difficult Sunday, and one where I deserved a roast dinner – I deserved a good roast dinner.
And, more or less, I got that from The Duke Of Wellington.
Things could have been better, but unlike our politics, social media and train services, there wasn’t anything to complain too strongly about.
Sure, the fat on the beef could have been rendered somewhat, the yorkie wasn’t exactly a dream, the vegetables could have had more imagination.
Yet, I beheld the miraculous mystery of crispy roast potatoes. And the beef was pretty satisfying too.
I’m scoring it a 7.43 out of 10. It’s a respectably good roast dinner in a conveniently central area.
£24.00 though. Plus service charge. That is quite a bit of money, isn’t it? Albeit this time next week, that is going to seem like a bargain – and I’m not just talking about our inflation rate in the UK that is nothing to do with Brexit (though only partly to do with Brexit). As next week’s service charge is going to be more expensive than the average roast dinner in Macclesfield. Don’t ask. Just don’t fucking ask.
Fingers crossed I don’t need to spin the Wheel Of Crud again. I’ll leave you with Angela “this dress looked cool in 1989” Ekaette.
And the Wheel Of Crud is here – should you feel the need for a spin.
The Duke Of Wellington, Marylebone
Tube Lines: Bakerloo
Fare Zone: Zone 1
Loved & Loathed
Loved: I actually got crispy roast potatoes. Fuck a brick, all the trains were on time too. Beef sirloin was pleasant but fat needed some rendering.
Loathed: Yorkie was dry and brittle, vegetables could have had more imagination. Fat on beef needed server-side rendering (please get my joke if you work in web development).