It’s a Golden Age, apparently. You could have fooled me, but I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands to do something shocking – returning to the scene of the first ever 9+ score, at The George, Strand.
Golden age of corruption? Golden age of bullying? Golden age of pretending that your Nazi salute wasn’t really a Nazi salute on the basis that lefties over-use proclamations of being Hitler?
It’s certainly not a golden age of roast dinners.
I’m not sure reaching the middle of my 40’s is a golden age either, but I can at least take back control of roast dinners somewhat – and hence I decided to re-visit The George, in hopefully a slightly more constructive way than Elon Musk revisiting 1930’s Germany.

It’s my birthday, so I’m going to indulge more in myself and the blog, than that Nazi cunt. Maybe.
I Just Wanna Be Loved
Last year, 2024, was a poor year for roast dinners – the joint second worst ever. And 10% more expensive than the year before…pretty sure inflation wasn’t 10% at any point last year, but hey.
I kind of wished I could go to Blacklock every month.
Plus I started to wonder just how accurate reviews from 2017 were 7 years later – was The George, that I visited in 2018, still worth a 9.02? One of only 5 places that I’ve scored a 9.00 or over.
That and my to-do list has really shrunk – I think it was well over 100 places pre-pandemic, now just around 40 places.
Hence – time to go back to life in 2018, a time when Liz Truss was Chief Secretary to the Treasury, responsible for overseeing public expenditure and working on fiscal policy, something that would stand the country in good stead in due course.
A time when I was working in an office 3-4 days a week, on a third of the salary I’m on now, living in a grotty house in Harrow and suffering with the Metropolitan line’s signals having disdain for the colour green. A time when owning a Tesla was actually cool…I shit you not.
A time, when I could get a roast dinner for just £15.00. And it would have crispy roast potatoes. In fact, I had…
The plumpest, juiciest chicken, C.R.I.S.P.Y R.O.A.S.T P.O.T.A.T.O.E.S, the best cauliflower cheese dish in London and the wonderful parsnip mash with mustard seeds. This was just sooooo gorgeous a roast.
Hell, it was time when you might actually get punched for a Nazi salute. You know where this is going, don’t you?
Mistake No. 3
So for the birthday roast, our group was sat upstairs in the restaurant. If you haven’t been (surely you have followed my recommendation…you’ve had 7 fucking years to do so), The George is a pretty gorgeous pub – built in 1723, when Joe Biden was a teenager.

Kind of early 2000’s level of classy inside, with pretty gorgeous windows, pink walls and dark ceilings – downstairs is more pub vibe. We had the table around the corner, which was kind of like having a private room, though was exceptionally quiet when everyone was concentrating on eating.
One annoying aspect – I had to pay a £10.00 deposit for everyone, which is fine, except for having to chase certain characters multiple times. And also except for the fact that on paying, the deposit didn’t go against the bill but will be returned to my bank account. So I have to then send everyone their £10.00 deposit back. Yay. Thank fuck I have a limited amount of friends.

On the roast dinner menu at The George was pork belly at £24.00, and have I mentioned that it is my birthday? So there was nothing else on the menu.
Though you could also have had chicken at £23.00, sirloin of beef at £26.00 or a vegan mushroom (because there are non-vegan mushrooms?), spinach and pine nut wellington at £19.50.

And that’s what the Yorkshire pudding looks like.
Changing Every Day

Some pretty toasty pork there, but let’s start with the carrot, because it’s my birthday! Have I mentioned that yet? Though I’ve also just realised that if I doubled my age, I’d be 90. Anyway, the carrot was quite nice, maple-roasted apparently but I didn’t especially notice it, and I’m fairly sure I said the same the week before, and the roast before that and the roast before that.
There was a little bit of kale, quite mushy and lacking flavour or seasoning. I had some kale on the roast dinner last week, and the roast before that and the roast before that.
And then there was not so mysterious puree, as this week the menu advised it was parsnip puree – fairly pointless, and I really wish it had been actual parsnips, but there was nothing wrong with it other than being puree. Believe it or not, I had mysterious puree on the roast dinner last week, and the roast before that…and the roast before that.
Yes, I know I have the same meal every week. But somehow I’ve gone to a pub owned by the Metropolitan Pub Company 4 times in a row. And they serve the same vegetables every place, apparently.
Oh, and I found out this week that Metropolitan Pub Company are owned by Greene King – a company that really does know how to enshittificate. Do keep reading.

The cauliflower cheese we paid extra for, but it was my birthday so why the hell not.
It was kind of bland and mushy, though the sauce had some cheese on it. In 2018, I said it was the best cauliflower cheese in London. This might be the best cauliflower cheese on the Strand.
Do You Really Want to Hurt Me

The roast potatoes were pretty shit – they were dry. Notably so, and that’s really all I remember about them. Dry and a bit undercooked. Anyone know when I last had a good roast potato?
I didn’t mind the Yorkshire pudding, it was relatively fresh and soft, though fairly bland tasting – not that Yorkshire puddings are ever supposed to be especially a taste sensation. Gosh I wish I was born in India or something.
Then I turned over the pork belly.

It was so black that I channelled my inner Elon Musk and gestured towards the waiter. Not that kind of gesture.
Normally, I’d eat it (or just discard it) and write a scathing review. In fact, I did try to eat it but it tasted burnt and I spat it out.
IT IS LORD GRAVY’S FUCKING BIRTHDAY. LORD GRAVY IS NOT HAVING BURNT PORK BELLY ON HIS BIRTHDAY.
The waiter took my plate away without quibble.
Shall we start again?
Karma Chameleon
It’s a Golden Age, apparently. You could have fooled me, but I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands to do something shocking – and returning the roast dinner because the pork belly was fucking burnt.
Golden age of corruption? Golden age of bullying? Golden age of pretending that your Nazi salute wasn’t really a Nazi salute on the basis that lefties over-use proclamations of being Hitler?
It’s certainly not a golden age of roast dinners. Is it?

Looks like I’ve not taken back control of roast dinners.
Or even managed to get ChatGPT to make me a song about Elon Musk being a Nazi cunt. Pretty sure I did say that I’d make this blog all about me and burnt roast dinners, but hey, changed my mind, let’s call it democracy.

10 minutes later, a new roast dinner turned up – alas missing the pig in blanket that we ordered separately.

So, starting with the carrot, which was quite nice, maple-roasted apparently but I didn’t especially notice it, and I’m fairly sure I said the same the week before, and the roast before that and the roast before that, and the roast that I had 10 minutes before this.
There was a little bit of kale, quite mushy and lacking flavour or seasoning. I had some kale on the roast dinner last week, and the roast before that and the roast before that and on the roast that I had 10 minutes before this.
And then…nah of course I didn’t eat any more puree. I didn’t actually eat any more carrot or kale.

And the roast potatoes looked a bit more crispy than the original plate. Alas…looked.
So onto the pork belly which was a really quite chunky piece of pork belly – possibly an attempt to make up for serving me burnt shit. It wasn’t burnt – yay! Not even on the other side. Some herbs in the middle, as if they were vaguely attempting porchetta (this is what the other Metropolitan Pub Company pubs do) and the crackling had a pretty decent crunch to it. Alas, the meat was pretty dry. An improvement on burnt shit, but not overwhelmingly so.

We also ordered pigs in blankets, because it was my birthday. Alas, my little piggy went all the way to market and never came back, when I returned the burnt pork belly. We did chase it, and a bit of confusion later we had a few extra pigs in blankets – rather anaemic looking and definitely needed a bit longer in the oven, but herby sausages, and possibly the only thing I’m complimenting except the carrot.
Finally, the gravy was alright I guess. Inoffensive in flavour, though like most of the roast dinner having little flavour.

The George
So…maybe going back to 2018 wasn’t such a good idea, but at least the League Of Roasts will be more accurate now.
Other thoughts on The George – well, the apple juice was pretty nice stuff, though priced at £5.30 a pint which was a tad eye-popping. Those drinking beer were happy with the choice – there are more beers downstairs than upstairs in the restaurant.
Service was very efficient, there was no quibble when I returned my burnt pork belly – well, except for the confusion over the missing sausage.

Those eating the chicken were more in praise, the chicken was apparently plump with crispy skin, though one thought it was dry – the respective scores were an 8.00, a 7.50 and a 6.80.
Again, those eating the beef were complimentary on the beef, though one scored their roast lower because their Bloody Mary had no celery – respective scores here were a 7.00 and a 6.95.


The one veggie at the table scored hers a 6.00, possibly the lowest score she has given, and the wellington was burnt – it looked rather dry to my eyes too.
And for the others eating the very crispy pork belly, though not the blackened burntness of my original roasts, scores were a 7.00 and a 6.00.
I’m a bit lost as to how to score it. Had I continued on with the burnt pork belly then it would score in the low 5’s I reckon. Do I take this into account? Or do I forget it because they replaced it with no quibble?
Quite frankly, I think I have to take it into account – how can anyone at The George possibly think sending out blackened, burnt pork belly is acceptable? Dry roasties were the other main crime, fairly bland gravy and a total lack of seasoning. I cannot say that I’m especially amused. And it was my birthday. Paris was nice though.
The vegetables were decent enough, the second pork belly did have some good crackling around the edge…hmmm I’m struggling for compliments.
Sadly, I’m scoring The George a 5.95 out of 10. How the mighty have fallen – the first place to score over 9, top of the league table from my visit until I went to Blacklock the next year. And now, just a 5.95 out of 10.
I’ll be back next week – going somewhere that looks a bit shabby. Who knows, it might have an amazing roast dinner?

Summary:
The George, Strand (2025 re-visit)
Station: Temple
Tube Lines: Circle, District
Fare Zone: Zone 1
Price: £24.00
Rating: 5.95
Loved & Loathed
Loved: The vegetables were decent enough, the second pork belly did have some good crackling around the edge...I guess it was good that they replaced my burnt pork belly without quibble.
Loathed: How can anyone at The George possibly think sending out blackened, burnt pork belly is acceptable? Dry roasties were the other main crime, fairly bland gravy and a total lack of seasoning.
Where now, sailor?
Random roast review: Cora Pearl, Covent Garden
